20 Years
I have nothing profound to say, except that today marks twenty years since I started this blog.
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Sunday Sweets
While half-watching The Logies tonight, I got a craving for something sweet.
One of the great things about living where I do is the great variety of closeby offerings.
So I wandered down the street and got some of those yummy sweets from Maya, an Indian place on Cleveland Street.
Gosh it was good. And because it’s Indian I’m sure it wasn’t at all fattening :)
Other highlights of the day included catching up with friends Patrick and Sam for a coffee this afternoon, and watching The Logies.
The truth be told I haven’t watched The Logies for years.
As a child I used to love watching them, but in adulthood it’s become the show I watch when I want to relax and not think all that much.
One of the issues is I don’t know who half the people are.
I don’t watch all that much television these days. And what I do watch is either on Foxtel or through downlpoads.
So when they announce the award for most popular such and such, I’m lucky to know even half the finalists.
It was quite good fun following the show via Twitter. Thousands of people must have been doing so, since I found it hard to keep up with the Tweets while at the same time Googling to try and find out more about who they were talking about.
I also spent a few hours today watching CNN and Fox and their coverage of the bomb scare in Times Square. It was interesting to note how, since they didn’t have any pictures to tell the story, they adopted a radio format of expert guests on the phone and regular updates.
It’s interesting that, despite the rolling news format, it’s only sparked minor interest on Australian television news tonight.
But then again, if the Americans had The Logies… :)
Telling your amputee story : Miles O’Brien
One of the constants of being an amputee is the need to repeatedly “tell your story”. From curious children on the street to family, friends, workmates, and medical professionals, you are constantly asked the question: “What happened to your arm or leg?”
Being a journalist, I’ve adapted to this fairly easily, but many people find it difficult. So, I have begun a process of trying to better understand how we tell our stories.
For The Limb Shift, I’ve spoken with another journalist who found it hard at first to tell even his own family. I discovered Miles O’Brien while Googling my own story to see what was out there. Despite sharing a surname and a profession, we don’t think we’re related. Nonetheless, I found an immense amount in his journey that I could relate to.
His story will feature in a future episode of the podcast, launching in October 2026.
Miles O’Brien’s life and career shifted dramatically at age fifty-five, following a severe accident while working as a freelance science and technology journalist on a one-man-band reporting mission in the Philippines.
After stacking heavy equipment cases in his hotel room, one of the cases fell and landed on his arm. Initially brushing it off as a bad bruise due to a “fairly good dose of denial,” Miles realized within twenty-four hours that the pain and numbness were far more severe.
Diagnosed with acute compartment syndrome—where internal swelling creates dangerous blockages of blood flow—he underwent emergency surgery, but during the procedure, complications forced the surgeon to amputate his right arm above the elbow.
The Immediate Aftermath and Mental Pivot
Rather than immediately notifying his family thousands of kilometres away, Miles chose to process the shock alone.
He confronted his reality by testing whether he could still write and produce stories to support himself, opening dragon dictation software and pecking away with his remaining hand. Recognizing that he could still work was a vital psychological turning point, moving him past a brief descent into a “very dark road”.
He noted that amputees inevitably face a crucial crossroads:
“Are we going to think about what we’ve lost or are we going to start working on what it’s going to be like to operate in life in a different way?”
Embracing a “power through” mindset inspired by Winston Churchill’s maxim—”if you’re going through hell, keep going”—Miles refused to sit on the sidelines, believing that taking time off would have sent him into a tailspin.
He finally reached out to his partner and children right as he boarded a flight back to the United States.
Life Since the Accident and the “MacGyver” Approach
Back home, Miles adopted what he calls a “MacGyver” approach to daily existence, solving each challenge like an individual puzzle rather than looking at the overwhelming whole:
“Every time I was presented with a challenge of how to do something, whether it’s tying a tie or putting cream cheese on my bagel. I had to be the one armed MacGyver.”
As an experienced pilot, getting recertified to fly became his ultimate benchmark of recovery—his personal “Olympics”. By placing a hook on the yoke of the aircraft and managing the throttle closely, he proved he could fly just as well as he did with two hands.
His professional life as a television journalist also adapted. Though initially reluctant, he appeared on CNN to tell his story, and continued reporting for the PBS NewsHour, choosing not to hide his missing limb. When discussing whether to use a cosmetic hand or shoot around the amputation, his executive producer simply told him, “Miles, we love you. Come as you are”. Miles noted:
“I realized that I didn’t want to walk around hiding anything. This is who I am… I’m comfortable in my own skin and I don’t feel like I have to hide it for the benefit of others.”
A Transformed Perspective
Looking back twelve years after the accident, Miles reflects on his transformation with candor.
While he contends with phantom pain and has explored therapies to manage it, the overall impact on his worldview has been profound. He shared:
“If I would have had the opportunity to go back, I wouldn’t change things. I’m happy with my life and happy how it turned out. And I’m happy how it has changed the way I view the world, the way I view people with disabilities and the way I view my place in the world.”
Ultimately, the experience taught him that reaching out for help is a sign of strength rather than weakness. By leaning into what he has rather than dwelling on what he lost, Miles discovered a deep reservoir of resilience, turning a life-altering loss into a powerful personal win.
PS. We have the same surname, and we’re both journalists, but we’re (probably) not related!!
From Canvases to Chilli Chicken
It felt like old times last night when my friend Kate and I went to an exhibition opening, followed by dinner. We have known each other since the early nineties when we were both living in Wagga—she was working in the arts and I was at the ABC.
Our shared interest in art has been a constant throughout our long friendship, which has seen us through many chapters. I fondly remember one visit while I was in rehabilitation after my lower limb amputation, when she pushed me in my wheelchair through an exhibition at the National Art School so we wouldn’t miss out. Even though she now lives in Newcastle and I’m in Sydney, we remain close.
We both particularly love Indigenous art, so we were excited to visit the opening at Art Leven (formerly Cooee Art), a First Nations art gallery in Redfern. Getting there was easy, but I was a bit concerned about walking alone in the dark, so I took an Uber for the short 650-metre trip. The $10 fare was well worth the peace of mind. Afterwards, Kate and I were able to walk back together, which was lovely.
The exhibition was fantastic—a beautiful and interesting cross-section of Indigenous art from a range of different communities. The works varied from affordable pieces to one stunning artwork valued at $200,000. It was wonderful to see the collection, and Kate, having worked in a number of Indigenous communities and art galleries, brought a fascinating perspective on many of the artists.
After the gallery, we continued our conversation over an awesome Chinese meal at Yum House on Cleveland Street in Surry Hills. It’s a place I would highly recommend for its affordable, authentic food. It can be as spicy as you like, and we enjoyed a wonderful chicken dish bathed in chillies and a delicious double-smoked pork. Kate has previously worked in China, and I visited her there in 2010, which you can find posts about on this blog. And so we had lots to talk about given my recent visit there. This includes taking her mother (in a wheelchair) to China when she was aged in her 80s!
It was great to relive the old days of going out to see exhibitions. The whole evening has given me a renewed sense of confidence for getting out and about.
The Glasshouse – Hobart
“I’m sorry, we’re fully booked”, the maitre’d told us as we made our way into Hobart’s “The Glasshouse”. “However, we could offer you some seats at the bar or a couch”, she added. We looked over at the couches near the window. Two longish couches which could have seated six, with a low table in the middle. “Perfect”, we all decided instantly.
Though table dining is a lovely thing, for the gathering we had (work colleagues, sharing plates and wine), it was absolutely perfect. The food was excellent: oysters, king fish, lamb, deep fried mushrooms, and the BEST eggplant I’ve had in ages. There was lots of oohing and ahhing. And we all felt absolutely happy with the portions. The service was also excellent: there when you wanted it, and not in your face when it wasn’t there.
The restaurant was recommended by my ex and his wife, who are regular visitors to Hobart (they’ve bought a house here), and I’m glad he did. It was night, and we were deep in conversation, so we probably didn’t take in much of the water views, but I think it would be especially good around lunchtime or sunset. Though it’s a little expensive for “ordinary tastes”, it was a terrific night, and I’m happy to recommend it also.
Billie Holiday
I went searching on Spotify and Youtube Music yesterday for a comprehensive album or playlist of the works of Billie Holiday. Though it’s been at least 35 years since I bought her recordings on vinyl, and a few years later on CD, I was keen to find a good digital collection. You wouldn’t believe how many of the collections online DON’T include the song “Strange Fruit”.
In stark contrast, lyrically, to her other jazz recordings which are lighter love songs, “Strange Fruit” is an allegorical song about the “lynching” of black Americans. By “lynching”, I mean this.
Lynching in the United States was a widespread occurrence beginning in the 1830s Antebellum South until the civil rights movement in the 1950s and 1960s. Although the victims of lynching in the U.S. for the first few decades of the phenomenon were predominantly white Southerners, after the American Civil War emancipated roughly 4 million enslaved African-Americans, they became the primary targets of lynchings beginning in the Reconstruction era. Lynchings in the U.S. reached their height from the 1890s to the 1920s, and primarily targeted African-Americans and other ethnic minorities. The American South saw the majority of lynchings as it contained the largest number of African-Americans residing there, although racially motivated lynchings occurred in the Midwest and border states as well.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynching_in_the_United_States
In my heart of hearts, I can’t understand why a human would ever be involved in such terrible behaviour. The lyrics of the song are so incredibly powerful.
Southern trees bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root
Black bodies swingin’ in the Southern breeze
Strange fruit hangin’ from the poplar treesPastoral scene of the gallant South
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strange_Fruit
The bulgin’ eyes and the twisted mouth
Scent of magnolias sweet and fresh
Then the sudden smell of burnin’ flesh
The film I saw yesterday, “The United States vs Billie Holiday” argues when she sang the song, she was seen as inciting violence and the growth of the civil rights movement.
The film explores her life story from the perspective she was relentlesly pursued by federal agents to either a) stop her from singing the song or b) stop her career.
That she had a significant problem with drugs made her an easier target. If they couldn’t stop her for the songs, they could pursue her for her drug use.
The film explains her problem with drugs possibly came from her earlier life’s problems, being raised by an abusive woman who was also sex worker, and being sexually abused from an early age. There’s a telling scene in the movie which portrays the idea her own personal sex life as being defined in an abusive way.
Despite the darkness of the film, there are also some wonderful moments where you get to understand her humanity, and the joy she obviously enjoyed from her performances on stage, and her friendships with fellow musicians.
The two key actors deliver wonderful performances: the actor who plays Billie, and the actor who plays Jimmy, who plays the federal agent who became her partner.
There’s a suggestion (or at least that’s how I read it) that Billie’s death (from a drug overdose) was not of her own devices, that she might have been killed.
The film is somewhat harrowing, but it’s still a film I’d highly recommend.
And of course, there’s her wonderful music.
I won’t give away too much about the film, except to say you should stay for the end of the film to see some information about the legal status of lynchings in the US today.
Rhinestone Rex and Miss Monica
As we arrived in the theatre foyer tonight, I noticed a small poster on the wall for Felicity Urquhart. Felicity is an Australian country music singer who I work with. So in addition to the slight buzz of seeing her poster on the wall, there was also a slight sense of confusion.
Minutes later I understood why, as she, Gina Jeffreys, Sara Storer and Beccy Cole are amongst a number of Australian country music singers who are mentioned, and whose works feature in the new David Williamson play, Rhinestone Rex and Miss Monica.
The premise for the play is the apparent odd coupling of a country music loving tradesman and a classical music loving woman whose kitchen he is renovating.
Glen Hazeldine plays Rhinestone Rex, the tradie who used to be a country music performer, and who still appears on community radio. Georgie Parker plays MIss Monica, the classical musician forced to “retire” because of problems with her hands.
In the early part of the play, they trade barbs about country music and classical music which is all very amusing, and which had the theatre pretty much in stitches. That said, there’s a couple of quite funny “in jokes” about country music – such as how Beccy Cole got an entire album of songs from her divorce experience – which I seemed to be the only person in the theatre laughing at. David Williamson either KNOWS country music very well or at least has done his research very well.
As the play develops an obvious sexual tension develops between the two, despite their apparent “differences”. “So what do you reckon? Are they gonna do it?”, I said to my friend, fellow blogger/twitterer Tom 125 who came with me tonight, as we headed out for interval.
Unlike many plays these days which are far too long – and often laboured – this is about the right length. In fact, it ends quite suddenly, both Tom and I agreed as the play ended.
We also both agreed it was a really fun, lovely play. I’ve been a little bored with some of Williamson’s plays over the last ten years, as he has chronicled the life of Sydney’s middle class. He seems to have been writing for a while about people I really don’t care about: people with “first world problems” of little consequence.
In the grand scheme of things, this play “solves no problems”, provides no great commentary on modern life. But who cares? It’s bloody good theatre, jumps along at a nice pace, and provided an evening’s entertainment. I really liked it.
Twenty years of a blog is profound enough. Congrats.
Just had a look at the stats.
3,2000 posts
6,7000 comments
Goodness knows how many words.
Lots of memories.
Mazal tov James. That’s certainly an achievement and shows real commitment.
Thanks Rod. Sorry for the delay in responding. I really appreciate your thoughtful comments. We MUST meet one day.
No need to be sorry James. You’ve got family in Lismore who are still trying to get back on their feet after a disastrous catastrophe, and you’ve got a busy job. More than enough to juggle I reckon. I’m never expecting a response. I had toyed with the idea of coming to Sydney for Vivid/Biennale but that’s not going to happen now. Hopefully in the spring.
What an achievement. I’ve probably read most if not all of them though looking back I don’t think I’d read your post on WA Opera’s Faust. I was there too! Also at “Cinderella.”
One thing on a quick review I was amused to detect emerging was your trademark style of a snippet of dialogue or a little situation as the opening hook. Earliest I spotted was your conversation with the taxi driver in Riga, and then it emerges more frequently from about late 2008. To me that marks the transition from a kind of web diary (where you often start with a straightforward description of the occasion of composition – eg “I’ve just finished packing up”) to a more artful “blog.”
As they say: “Keep up the good work.”
Thanks Marcellous. Lovely that you’ve noticed my “style”. Re the Faust/Cinderella. I remember chatting to a colleague a few years ago and he remembered we had gone to see Death in Venice at the SOH a few years ago. I had completely forgotten seeing that, until I checked my blog. Memories came flooding back. So yes, this will be good for older days too, when I can’t remember things as well. Which makes me think – I must go back and check out that taxi conversation. I remember one from Johannesburg, but not Riga!
Congratulations! Thank you for always providing such interesting reading – the InformationSuperhighway is so much richer for having you in it!
This prompted me to check mine – 18 years this month which is astonishing. And means I’ve been following your adventures for more than a third of our lives!
We must be very old!! Still have fond memories of our chance meeting.
Hardly. If 20 years is more than a third of your lives, you must both be under 60. Counts as middle-aged still these days.