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My brain is broken
An update - or really, an apology - for my paid subscribers.
Newsletter
An update - or really, an apology - for my paid subscribers.
Newsletter
Recently, I bought one of those little high-density units off the plan, nearby in Upper Hutt. It's exciting - you get to see it take shape before your eyes. Above all, it's easy. The developers take the decisions for you. Until they don't. Today,
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Here's what I reckon. You can be bitter if you want, or closed. You can complain that this is not your culture, these aren't your ideas. You can tell yourself it's all too trendy, too new, even though it's as old as
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Since Thursday, when I read the news, I have asked myself: how can I say this nicely? Then I realised, I don’t want to say it nicely. I figured that out this afternoon, under the stage lights, in the crowd, watching the dancers. For today, at least, I am
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I posted this two years ago, in the Facebook days, but it seems relevant again now. Kids are still more important than cars. Leaders of every stripe need to know it.
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A confidential update for my lovely paid subscribers - please note the difficult content. Thank you for being the kind of people I can share this with.
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It was only after her death - I was thirteen at the time - that I realised. My Nana was one of the most interesting people I’ve known. She had three of my favourite qualities: intellectual curiosity, a moral compass, and the occasional urge to wind people up for
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In the first post in this series, I promised something a little less boring than it sounded. Can I deliver again?
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Not concerned with accuracy. Not concerned with detail. Not concerned with public health. Not concerned with financial stewardship. Not concerned with intergenerational welfare. Not concerned with our ethical - our constitutional - commitments, dating back to 1840. Just concerned with the weak and lazy comfort that comes from, you know,
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This is a confidential update for my lovely paid subscribers. Be warned, it's one of those posts where I crap on about my personal life.
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When I was sixth form, in religious education class, we talked about abortion. By that time - we’d been children raised in the faith, but were now sixteen and seventeen - we knew the dogma. The difference, I suppose, was that we now felt old enough, cocky enough, to
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Kia ora Dave Has the sexy Christian coldcall approach worked for you? Like, EVER? Because even if I had eternal life, you'd still be waiting. No one reads a shit line like this and thinks, Yahweh to go, Dave! You need to altar your approach. Guess you'