Tunnel Vision

Riley and I were walking down the street this morning and it seemed like we'd been walking down the one street for a long time. Over and over again. There was the slightest sensation for a moment of being in a tunnel that has it's other end now joined to the entrance. Looping now and passing signs for turnoffs you'll never get to.

But actually I know that this morning is different to yesterday morning in a myriad of tiny ways and even though when we walk out the door we can only turn left or turn right - and that often feels very limited - well that's the same at every corner we come to on our walks and we end up seeing different things. This tree is blooming, that bird is odd, how weird are the clouds, the path has been brushed. LIttle things, but different enough.

It's at times like this when there is so little to take in, that I realise all over again how much I do take in. How much of this morning's walk I can remember (not reconstruct) and how much I am constantly learning about my neighbourhood just by walking around it. Then, being me, I turn this observation into a worry "I'm not stimulating my brain enough and I'll get wobbly and dim. Look how much it's noticing - my brain could be filling up on pointless information about yards and bins and cars!!"

What a drongo.

So I'm going to read more SciFi and fill my brain up with imaginary things instead!
A much better idea than watching the news I think!

Outside in the Morning

The air this morning was deliciously sweet. I wanted to drink swimming pools of it. The sky seemed as deep as the ocean and blue like a bird's heart all the way through.
All the crows flew to one big tree and spent 5 minutes loudly cawing over each other - scrabbling to prove their points before dispersing in gossiping gangs.

The Great Cull

Having set a date (no matter how randomly) for delivering a project, one's energy seems to magically align to making that happen. Why don't I use this power for good more often?

Finally I am able to face the 3 or 4 (I don't even really know how many there are!) folders of notes, drafts, versions (at least 3 distinct versions, not including the original sci-fi dystopia version!) and scribbles, hopes and fakes that make up the "file" of this work in progress. I have been kidding myself that it's "pretty much all there" for quite some time now, allowing hope and denial to take the place of clear-eyed editing. Having spent Monday night critically appraising the existing computer files (ack! so make that 5! folders of stuff) I realise that there is a lot of work ahead of me. Proper work, not collating or finessing or polishing, or the other hand-waving that I will try and get away with before I do anything requiring mental horsepower. I think, with my Realistic Hat on that I will be keeping less than 10% of the guff that I have, and that I am at First Draft stage rather than the hopeful Second Draft I posited earlier this week.

Rather than being depressed by this (as I have been in the past when the hand-waving hasn't worked) I feel invigorated. Scared of still producing nothing but crap come August, but keen to give it a go. There's nothing to lose.

Finally I understand that there's nothing to lose in trying to make this thing. Oh. Oh wow.
No really, wow. I can only get better (!), I can only make myself happier by working on this thing. There are very few things I would rather do with my time, and (call me crazy) it might all go well and be good. Woah!

I know I'm talking it all up more than showing you the goods this week. It's not that I don't want to share with you, it's that there's masses of culling going on and not yet enough (read: any)new stuff. Tonight will be new stuff time (I will alternate culling and writing so that there's some chance for the old stuff to grow and the new stuff to not be too swamped). Even this degree of deliberate focus is very very new for me, and intimidating. I write on-demand at work, but that is very functional and practical material. This experiment tonight may be wobbly-time. Anyway, if all goes to the Optimistic Plan can expect to see some samples here in June/July.

The once-deserted fairly landscape down in the new estate is overrun with building goblins now. Men in high-vis yellow and orange or high-risk tans swarm over the mess of concrete slabs. Wooden skeletons of rooms and roofs are massing themselves and sitting over the top of the oddly truncated plastic tubes that stick out of the slabs like the severed arteries of ossified giants. It's a cacophony of nail guns, oaths and earth-moving equipment. I find it a bit much for my 7am, but Riley is intoxicated with the variety of smells and activities. We compromise and go there every 2 or 3 days for the morning walks, and I try and keep my gaze averted to the trees over the gorge, rather than risk accidentally seeing a workman piss against his own truck again.

Joy of Riley

The sun came out this morning, and for a brief hour or so it was a clear sweet day. From bed I could hear seven or eight bird calls and when Riley and I went walking, it was lovely to hear the birds enjoying themselves and smell the hay of mown lawns. Riley was exuberant running and doing little hop jumps. Then throwing himself into the grass and rolling wriggling along on his side on his back, then trying to snorkel through it. Snuffling and huffing he had no cares or worries, just the sheer joy of being alive and having fun.

The sky was beautiful soft blue, clear and strong above, shading slightly to the edges of sight. Moon worked her way towards the brim, but was sadly fading as sun brightness pushed her to the background. But for our walk she was there and I love those times with sun and moon in the same sky. We’re all together.

13 Crows

Riley and I went to the oval yesterday for a change of pace. I needed somewhere to walk that there was a path. It's wet everywhere all the time, and all the grasses have seeded. Icky. We went down and the oval had been slashed (at least some parks are getting cared for - everything else is badly overgrown - hence my desire for the paths. Although it does shit me a bit that even though there's no sport on it's still the sport field that gets first attention, not any recreational area. On the other hand, as I seem to be the only person walking for recreation, I can understand that it's too much to ask for an appreciative audience of 1).
Anyway. The grass hadn't been collected, just left there in huge clumps (don't start me) and there was a lot of crows strutting all over the place, cawing, pecking at clumps and generally behaving in a slightly gang-like manner. I know that in Europe there are all kinds of omens indicated by Ravens, their number and their activity. I wonder, are Ravens as common as crows? Everyone would be having omens left right and centre.
So I counted the crows and there were 13. "ooooh" I thought, "that might not be great...." but there were definitely 13, no getting around it, until shortly a whole nother gang flew in and then there were 23 or 24. It was hard to count them while they were milling around and really going for one particular large grey clump (which I was happy to continue supposing was just wet grass and not a rabbit). What kind of omen might this be? Abundance? Being beset by an overwhelming number of enemies? Don't be a rabbit under a slasher?
It remained unclear.
Riley and I did our two circumnavigations and got out of there. Afterall, what good are omens you don't understand when Breakfast is waiting?

Fungus Estate

Riley and I went for a walk this morning down to an unpopulated estate. It has new roads, lights, footpaths, signposts, everything except houses. No houses. It backs onto one of the reserves, the Bremer, and a picturesque (but way too noisy) railway bridge. There's always plenty of birds in the trees, and as it's on a good rise, a great view of the swollen dirty river broiling it's way towards Brisbane.
I like walking that way because it's a walk that has decent paths and if the mood and the weather are right, we can do it a long way and take an hour, or the practical way and do it in 30 minutes. Riley likes it because it has plenty of sniffing and peeing, and some good stretches where he can have a good run.
The thing I noticed again today, is after all of the rain we've been having how many fungi grow wild. Such a huge variety of toadstools and weird things that look like something a giant animal coughed up out of it's throat. The colours range from softest ivory through to orange leather, and the structures too are amazing. Classic toadstools, and fake mushrooms, then the sides of leather, the blobby ones, the ridgy ones, tiny flimsy looking things just sketched lightly and really pointy ones, caricaturing themselves.
So we were walking through this estate, almost eerie in being completely empty of the houses it was designed for, but walking past a lush and continuous display of fungi. It was an odd juxtaposition, and really set the scene for us to be kidnapped by faeries or fall into a parallel world.
I don't think that happened, unless I've just been dreaming that I'm at work.
I will be a bit disappointed when people finally start building here, even though it is crazy to do all this expensive development and not use it. I wonder what the hold-up is? There aren't even any "For Sale" signs up. It feels so private at the moment, but we'll have to share it eventually. Until that time, Riley and I can sneak down there and dream our separate dreams.