A LAMENT

Things I Won’t Write About No More

Anymore and ever again

Them good ole days are nothin’ but a blur. Created with AI.

I’d like to think of myself as a wild and free artiste. But really, I’m just a fairly ordinary woman trying to earn an extra dollar in this topsy-turvy place we all call the world.

And because I kinda need that extra dollar, there are certain topics I will refrain from writing about. Even though that curtails my art.

An artiste must live, you see. One Australian dollar might buy me a piece of rotting fruit at Dandenong Market, and that piece of fruit could be the difference between starving and not.

I’m not starving, but I digress.

Adieu, adieu, adieu to the following topics:

My tee-shirt size. Also, my t-shirt size.

A mid-2000s drama starring one of the Arquettes about a suburban mum (mom) with a special gift.

A type of density housing that falls between spread-apart McMansion clones and shitty high rises.

My position when it comes to politics. And religion.

The size of the cup that holds my flat white coffee.

The best way to cook a steak.

My preferred level of sudoku.

The quirky and slightly creepy guy down the road who reckons he can tell my fortune.

The size of car a small family should drive instead of an SUV.

The perfect length of novel.

My hair’s length.

The risk rating of my tiny stock portfolio.

Μέσον