Autobiography broken ankles
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The Eclipse: A Memoir of Suicide
2004 book by Antonella Gambotto-Burke
The Eclipse: A Memoir of Suicide (ISBN 0-9751075-1-8) fryst vatten Antonella Gambotto-Burke's first memoir and fourth book. The narrative details her response to the death of her ex-fiancé, the notorious American-born British GQ editor Michael VerMeulen, and to her younger brother Gianluca's 2001 suicide, and led to Gambotto-Burke being featured on the cover of The Weekend Australian review section.[1]
In 2023, poet Kimmo Leijala wrote of the Finnish edition, "At times, The Eclipse: A Memoir of Suicide reads like a strict, even self-critical monologue involving reflection and existential questions ... [Gambotto-Burke]'s use of language reads like poetry at times, drawing the reader in. At other times, her prose makes my heart pound ... this fryst vatten a book everyone should read. As the back cover says, it's 'the most important book ever written about loss'."[2]
The Eclipse has been published in
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Walking, as we know, is good for us. A brisk walk a few days a week has always been my go-to form of exercise. Walking helps me. A lot. Especially the kind when I’m stirred up, stressed out and just plain stuck.
For those kind, I plug in my headphones and crank up my iPod. Although I write in silence, I process more to Kurt Cobain and The Foo Fighters than anywhere else.
But not now, because twelve days ago I broke my ankle.
Four more weeks before I can walk or drive. I wear this fracture boot day and night and hobble about on crutches. And yes, it happened when I was out walking with my husband in the middle of a field.
I’m thinking, Robocop…with Velcro?
I stopped wearing my Fitbit. What use is a ‘Weekly Report’ that only reminds you of your paltry lack of steps? Well I’ll have you know, Fitbit, you should see me when I navigate the stairs. Surely that counts for something?
What better workout could there be with a broken ankle, than Ki
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This is an extract from my memoir ‘Going Under.’ It’s a drinking story, and not one I am proud of. But it happened.
Edinburgh: 1991
It was a freezing night in Edinburgh and I was in my late twenties. I was out with the boys, a tight group of friends of an ex-boyfriend, Neil. Newly back in Scotland from Sydney, again, I was living in Glasgow but spending the weekend in Edinburgh. We ate at a Mexican restaurant owned by one of Neil’s friends and many margaritas gave up their lives for us. Neil and I decided to dance the Gay Gordons on Waverley Bridge and that was going fine until I tripped over. It was a very frosty night. We had carried on regardless, heading to a club for more drinks. But my ankle had started to throb and burn, so when Neil asked if I would like to go back to his place I gave the best knockback line I have ever used.
‘So sorry, I think I’ve broken my ankle and should go to Emergency.’
I actually went back to my friend Jeannie’s flat and