Twitter Festival Round-Up

Aramis Fox

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TL:DR: In the aftermath of the Twitter Fiction Festival I’m now 3000+ words and 16 followers richer.

Well, that was fun. And kind of exhausting.

For the past four days I’ve been posting at an enhanced rate in order to intersect with the other readers and writers participating in the Twitter Fiction Festival in the hope that I might garner some favourable attention.

On day one I had planned to post twice as frequently as I normally do, which is to say four times a day. I also planned to post during what as far as I could tell were peak times for people on the eastern coast of the USA, which is to say 5pm their time (9am mine or thereabouts). So there I was, my four launch day posts all hashtagged and scheduled and ready to go, and twitter all seasoned by the four hashtagged posts I’d…

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Poet. Author. Beard. Husband. Dad. Four chickens. Dog. Cat. I can sometimes fix my lawnmower.

Posted in writing

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ta-wit-ta-woo
Quelle Grammage!
only a fan of 2/3s of the folk in this pic but mesmerised by the story @angustrumble relates below it. . . . I watched last evening’s general election coverage (ABC, natch) in the company of a high Commonwealth official, among others in an undisclosed location, whose name, it soon emerged, may not appear on the electoral roll for reasons of national security. I confess that gave me a bit of a thrill. Canberra: Bless! However, it was also fascinating, extraordinary, in due course to witness that person’s several mobile phones evidently going bonkers, and the measured plans, contingencies, forecasts, blue books of an entire federal bureaucracy duly (one presumed) shredded, turned upside down, just like that. Nothing at all was said, I should emphasise. One simply observed the body language, which was moderately graphic. Whichever way you look at it, this has been an astounding personal victory for Prime Minister Scott Morrison. He believes in miracles, the sexy thing. Pre-polling methodologies in this country, meanwhile, have quite obviously met with serial unforced error on a colossal, epic scale. Who would ever pay them good money again? On my way home, I collided with the (ex-)campaign manager of one of the independent ACT Senate candidates who was alone, drunk and in despair. The campaign manager, that is, not the candidate. This was at about half past eleven on the corner of Jardine and Eyre Streets in Kingston, right next to the rubbish tin, you know, the rectangular green one. He told me he wanted to burn everything down, which was worrying enough, but then he suddenly hurled his mobile phone into the gutter—smashed it to bits—and staggered off into the night. I found myself wondering: Who would touch politics with a barge pole? I should add that this frightening encounter left me, literally, picking up his bits and bobs, then dutifully popping them in the bin. Responsible, me. Back home, I had a cuppa and played patience. I’m not kidding. . . . #Repost @angustrumble with @make_repost
A chance op shop encounter with this Death Liger Lion of Chaos duelmasters card case has done NOTHING to help my attempts to not buy one of this sucker’s namesake toys on ebay. #duelmasters #deathliger #deathligerlionofchaos #metalasfuck #toys
Thursday morning tableau
They come up after rain. I often wonder how they feel lying under the ground at right angles to their purpose. #chewton #railspike
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