One Thousand Word Challenge 266: A Move Toward Tomorrow

Posted on March 30, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

I had plans for today and they’ve gone right out the window. I should have not opened the window, it seems. Alas.

Another day wasted and another day I feel that my life is slipping away from me. Losing my reach, falling away, falling far far away from me, and I just sit here and watch it. I don’t chase after it for some reason. I think it’s laziness that prevents me from getting off my keister to chase after that which I feel I need, but at the same time, it could be anything. It could be everything. It probably isn’t laziness and, as such, I should stop blaming it, the poor bastard. Probably tired of me pointing the finger at it and forgetting that a few are pointing back at me. That’s the way it goes sometimes, however, and so laziness needs to accept that life and yeah.

There’s a nice breeze outside and the shadows in this room are growing longer. I’m growing longer. I’m growing older. There’s no stopping it at this point. Sure, I could sacrifice souls at the altar of eternal youth. I could also start forking out a lot of money for plastic surgery, as though that would provide a solution. Can’t restore bones that way. Can’t make bones young again. Time to replace all the bones. Sacrifices and bone replacement is where it’s all at. Surprised I didn’t think of this sooner.

I need to try and keep in mind that a temporary lull is not reason to spiral and despair, but sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it’s difficult, because through spiraling and despairing I’m realising quite a few things, and it all hurts. I need to remember that I still have myself. I’m still alive, so I can still turn things around and get back on track with my life. I can still make things happen.

I think for the first time in a while, I feel like I’m half of something else, and the other half is elsewhere, and it sucks. I think it’s good that I’m realising how I’m feeling and things are crystalising in a way, but it just sucks. After all the pain and damage and hurt caused, I find myself missing my ex, and I can’t do much about it. The most I can do is get on with my life, keep going forward and try to make the best out of a crappy situation.

I wasn’t expecting to feel like this a little more than a year out. I wasn’t expecting to feel low, and it’s draining. I’m glad I am feeling these things, but I need my time. I need to be able to live my life and feel a little bit more happy about things. I don’t. I’m just here, hurting, spinning the wheels.

I miss being held and holding someone, and I miss all the good times. I have trouble seeing them, but I know they were there. I don’t miss the trouble, but I do miss her. I miss having her in my life, and it’s tough. It’s tough because I’m letting mine slip away. I’m feeling it all and wanting to feel nothing, and I need help getting back up, but I feel I have to do it myself. I feel I have to try and push myself out of this without assistance, and that’s not great, but I should do what I must.

But then, when I get back up, assuming that I do, what do I do then? Where do I go from there? Do I chase after my life, try to make up for lost time? Do I give up again? Do I start a new life and go from there? I don’t know.

It’s a nice day outside. Sunny, light breeze. It seems peaceful and idyllic, and I’m so very fortunate that I can say that. I’m lucky to be able to say that I get to experience this slowness, and that I have the space and time to be miserable. To be grieving. To feel as though the other half of what I’m part of is missing. I wish that brought me comfort, because it doesn’t. I ‘m aware of it, but I’m not comforted.

Last year, shortly before going through getting dumped, The partner of someone I knew passed away. That was rough. Just an awful time. Then I got dumped and I was trying to keep space for that person and their grieving, but it was tough. But I tried and I kept trying. We were both struggling though.

They say that time heals all wounds, but you don’t expect wounds to get worse. You don’t expect them to get to a point where you can’t appreciate the idyllic feel of the scenery outside your window anymore. But life goes on and things change, and we grow older. I keep trying to hope for a better tomorrow, because what else can I do?

I often don’t feel I can collapse and fall apart. I often feel I have no choice but to keep going, and maybe that’s why people think I’m resilient. Maybe that’s why people think I’ve been able to stay on top of things as long as I have, but I haven’t stayed on top of much. I still just want my big hug, but it’s not coming. I have to keep going. I have to keep pushing on. I feel I don’t have a choice in the matter. I don’t feel as though I get to have a say in all of this.

What if my ex started talking to me again? What if she said hello? Would anything change? I don’t know. I don’t know if I could honestly say things would be better. It’d be up to her. But that’s the way things go sometimes, and maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up feeling better about it all. Maybe I’ll be okay.

Tomorrow still is another day, and it’s more life.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 17:57:74

This is from yesterday and it’s still raw stuff coming forward, but that’s what was in me.

Written at home.

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Sitting on the Ocean

Posted on March 29, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

The sunrise, also known as the rising of the sun, also known as the commencement of the day. They’re often an easy thing to capture in a simple way and also easy to see a photo of and forget about, but still provide a good deal of amazement, both witnessed and seeing a photo of.

This was taken in January with my phone. I was going for a swim at Maroubra, saw the sunrise, wanted to get a photo to share with people, and so I did. A quick and simple photo that’s somewhat minimal. Has a lot of space which I like. I especially like how the sun appears to be sitting on the ocean.

This is my submission into the three hundred-and-ninety-first Lens-Artists Photo Challenge. The theme for this one is “Phone Photography“.

I would not have shared this photo to a wider audience had it not been for this challenge, and I wouldn’t have realised that this photo is similar to one I took back in 2015. Specifically, the one zoomed out with the same positioning.

I wrote that I didn’t think those photos were amazing and that I wanted to try to get better captures, but at the time I thought that the one that’s similar to this one was the best photo I’d ever taken, and I didn’t know if I’d ever capture a better one. I was wrong about that, and I’m glad I was.

The host of the Lens-Artists challenges cycles weekly between the following people:

Tina

Patti

Ann-Christine aka Leya

John Steiner

Sofia Alves

Anne Sandler

Egídio

Ritva

Beth

This one is curated by Tina. The next one is curated by Tina.

I recommend joining the community and participating in the challenges. They’re pretty straightforward, allow room for interpretation, and provide a good way to think about photography in general. If not, however, then at the very least you should check out what others submit to the challenges.

I hope you enjoy.

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Doves in a Frangipani

Posted on March 29, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

There’s a possibility that I’ve written about this before. I can’t remember and it’s what I want to cover right now so as to feel a little less wretched, so you’re getting something that could be a repeat. Could be. We’ll find out if I ever bother to go back through things.

There was a period where I lived in a place, and I think it was the longest I’d lived somewhere since moving out of home. I don’t know. But I lived there a while and it wasn’t a great place. I definitely wrote about living there, but that’s in the past. I guess this bit of writing is about the past, but that doesn’t matter. Or it does. Anyway.

So my partner at the time and me, we lived there a good few years, and at one point had the place wholly to ourselves. Moved to one of the front bedrooms and it was… I don’t know if I’d say it was great, but it was our home, and it was nice for that. But what was really nice was having a frangipani growing outside our window.

The window looked onto the front yard and the street, which had a few trees and was quite pleasant for having them. We’d get cockatoos, and I like to refer to them as seasonal cockatoos as that’s how they seemed to be seasonal, and they’d create a racket and be noisy, and you’d see them eat and play, and it was something I appreciated. Always good to see a bunch of birds. It was clearly an urban place, but sometimes it didn’t feel urban.

The closest I’ve ever gotten to feeling like I was living in the bush was in the first place I moved into when I moved from home, where the toilet was an outhouse built into the house. You’d have to go out the back and walk a few metres from the door and along the wall and you’d be there. Sometimes in the morning I’d be on the toilet with the door open and early morning sun would be shining through the trees, of which there were a few, and it was just lovely. Just pleasant. But I digress.

In the frangipani, occasionally some doves would rest there. They were more likely to if you didn’t notice or pay attention to them as they had as much a view into the bedroom as we had a view into the frangipani. But it was nice to see them there, resting, taking their time away from whatever it was that they were doing.

When it would rain, we could see a few more than usual, as the frangipani provided a good space away from the rain. It wasn’t perfect by any measure, but it was enough, and so we would look at the doves, admiring them and their cuteness, and they would probably look at us, not knowing what we were going to do, if we were indeed going to do anything. And once the rain died down, they would leave and continue doing the things doves do.

When I was going through getting dumped last year and my ex was in the process of moving out, we saw a dove perched on the switchboard box, and for a moment the relationship hadn’t ended. For a moment everything seemed to have been forgotten, and we were back in this joyous period. It was not long, but it was wonderful.

The dove didn’t want to move, and it didn’t seem to fear us either. My ex left, and it was gone in the morning.

Seeing birds rest in a tree, or somewhere more artificial in structure, things like these are small moments, and they’re worth cherishing.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 265: Heavy Sunday

Posted on March 29, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Yesterday evening I started writing this thing about how I had nothing to write about, and I even couldn’t write about nothing, and it made me smile a bit. I think it made me smile as it meant that, even though I was still writing about something, there really was nothing left in me at that point, which still becomes something but… you know what I mean. I ended up scrapping it, however, as I was too tired to keep writing at that point. Too many nights of not enough sleep and all that builds up and yeah.

So I scrapped it. This morning I realised that there was something that I wanted to write about, but I forgot at the time, so the writing was being done based on a self-deception, and that’s all wrong and all that, but that thing is what I’ll write about next, because right now I’m feeling really down and that’s what’s going to come out as that seems to always shove everything out of the way.

Please consider this your warning to stop reading if you don’t want to read about someone being really sad, because this might get really heavy. I’m yet to find out.

There are some things that I’ve realised over the past few days, and a lot of it has to do with a pervading sense of loneliness and isolation. Many years ago I was fine with just heading out and doing things by myself, regardless of if I was single or in a relationship. I’d just go and do whatever, walk around a lot, those kinds of things, and I’d be fine. I’d try to go to gigs with others, but I’d occasionally go by myself. I went and saw Shin Godzilla by myself, though that took a bit of effort on my part. Probably should’ve recognised the loneliness then. But right now, I feel incredibly lonely and isolated.

I don’t mind doing stuff by myself, but I don’t like feeling like I have to do stuff by myself. I need time away from people. I need time to unwind. I need time to sort out my headspace. This isn’t unusual. I also realise that the older I’m getting, the more I find myself yearning for a connection with others that doesn’t rely almost solely on me to initiate.

This does leave me wondering what it is that I’ve done in order to put myself in this position. What am I doing that people won’t tell me? It also makes me wonder why people expect space for their own follies and foibles but won’t allow the same for others. I wish I could say that this is solely about me, but I see it happen so much, and it sucks. It’s tough.

Speaking about me though, too many people in my life seem to think I have it together, as though I’m some resilient person who can get through whatever and keep going. That is somewhat true, but I’ve been doing it tough for a while, and I don’t know how much fight is left in me. I don’t know if I have the endurance to keep persevering on my own. In relationships I’ve felt on my own. I’ve felt I’ve had to almost always be the strong one, and when I can’t, that’s when things have started going wrong, and it hurts so much. It hurts because I’ve felt I’ve had to carry so much emotional and mental weight for two people, and it hurts because there have been issues, but they’re seldom, if ever raised, in a way that isn’t a way that comes off as hurtful or rude or uncaring, but then I’m the one who is told that I’m those things when I’m at a point where I’m not doing well, or I need the other person to work on themselves as I can’t take on more.

The best communication I’ve had is in my current relationship, and I’m about to end it because whilst the communication is working and it’s great, the relationship itself isn’t working and it’s not the right time for either of us. And that sucks as I’m trying to not spiral, but this needs to be done.

I’m wondering how much of my independence has been more of a coping mechanism than it has been me just doing what I do and my being comfortable with it, because I’m finding it increasingly difficult to be alone at times. I used to spend so much of my time contacting others rather than the other way around, and I’ve spent so many days alone, either out or in a room, doing very little, and I don’t know how much more I can take.

I don’t know how much more I can handle giving other people the room to be fallible and struggle with their issues, but not have the same in return. Sometimes I just need to talk to a friend, but I don’t want to continually offload all my shit on the same few people. Sometimes I need to talk to someone else, or I need someone else of those few to just reach out and see how I’m going, ask me to hang out, just that sort of thing, because I’m not coping well. I’m not handling life and I’m not handling the loneliness.

And yeah, sure, everyone’s battle to fight is their own. I get it, I know it, and I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is that I just wish more people would show that they care. I’ve been told things that are wrong with me, but never really told what it is that people find to be an issue, but I can’t remember the last time those people actually checked on me.

I’m grateful for the few who do, but it’s all so tough. Don’t assume someone who is seen as resilient, is. Reach out, because they could be struggling and need someone to listen.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 18:18:11

Slower than I’d hoped, but it’s the way it goes sometimes.

This is not joyful reading. Heavy, sad stuff, and I don’t feel right sharing it. It’s what I feel at the moment though and it’s what’s going to come forward.

Written at home.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1592: The Day Seems to Drift

Posted on March 28, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

This day seems to drift on wisps of time, or that’s how I feel about it anyway. There’s a nice breeze and a nice bit of light, and I’m just enjoying the time that I have. Enjoying the flow of the day.

I haven’t done anywhere near as much as I would have liked, and that’s okay. There’s still a good bit of day left, and I’m going to be awake for a while anyway. A lot of admin stuff and boring bits of life that make us wonder where we went wrong and if we’ve wasted more time than we’d like to admit. Those kinds of things.

It’s difficult to be productive sometimes. Right now it is, anyway. And that’s okay, I think, because I’m still pushing through and doing my best. Am I going to get as many things up today as I did yesterday? Probably not. I might try, but I probably won’t get there. Still, I tend to hope. I tend to do what I can and I tend to try my best, even when I am not at my best, so at least I can take some comfort in that.

Sometimes it is hard to do your best when the day is so pleasant, however. A nice, slow day, drifting along, going on about its day… yeah…

And it is a nice day, and pleasant and all of those things. I’m enjoying it. I’m enjoying the slowness and the low light, and the way it doesn’t seem to be moving at all. It’s late in the afternoon, but it doesn’t feel it. It doesn’t feel like much of a day at all. Just a point in time with a bit of light shone upon it to highlight it, or something. I don’t know.

But it’s nice and pleasant, and I’m kind of fine with a bit of lower productivity today. Sure, I’m going to kick it up a few notches soon and get the admin stuff out of the way, but right now this is nice. This is easy. I like this. I can enjoy this time that I have, and I can just float along a bit. I can float along with the flow of time and I can relax. Take it easy. Enjoy being lazy, a little, even if it does end up stressing me out. Way it goes, sometimes.

I’m sitting at my desk and I’m at ease, and this is a nice way to be. I’m not at east enough, I think, and that’s an issue. It has been an issue for the past few days and it’ll probably be an issue some time down the track. Right now it’s not and I like this. I like that I’m relaxing, unwinding, all of those things. It’s a good way to be. Never lasts long enough. I’ll start fearing lack of productivity, but right now, in this instance, in this moment, I can take in very little and relax for a bit.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:09:40

A nice, relaxed bit of writing. A bit of what I needed to do right now.

Written at home.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1591: A Mess of Words for Your Saturday

Posted on March 28, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Sometimes you wake up and do nothing. When that happens, what do you do? Well, you get to writing, of course!

I’ve always enjoyed a busy weekend, except when I haven’t, which is most of the time. I don’t mind a planned weekend, but a busy weekend… no. Most of the time. Some of the time. None of all of the time, and always none of the time. It’s how it goes when you get down to brass tacks, and so therefore I need to stride and whinny and moo and some other things that don’t really make sense given the context, of which there is little provided.

Yep. It’s one of those bits of writing where I’m just throwing whatever together and hoping for the worst.

I see that things are pretty bad out there, and I can tell by looking out my window. I’m waiting to use the bathroom, which is currently occupied by someone who doesn’t do enough around the house, and soon it will be free. It will be free, and so will I. Once it is free I will be able to stride out into the wide world outside, and by that I mean to the bathroom. I will stride to the bathroom, and I will carve paths to the future upon the gliding pain and pressure I feel within myself that slowly creeps up and creeps me out. And that’s the way it goes. That’s the way it all speaks to me and that’s the way I will continue with my life, but my life cannot continue unless I continue with it.

This is a bad way of going about writing, but it’s the way I’m doing it today. And maybe tomorrow, too. And the day after. If it gets to Friday, however, then no. Not then. Other days, however…

Feeling like a new person, except I don’t. Going to not do anything, except I will. Through my will I will will a way, and the way forward is not the way backward.

I should be writing about the wind over this. This is not entertain. This is crap. A lot of crap comes from these hands, and I need to stop with that. Only the purest of qualities can be produced through the work of the work that is happening, but… what am I even saying here?

I once had hopes and dreams and now all I think about are dreams and hopes. I’m wondering where I lost my way, and if I can ever find it again. There’s so much to do and so little time, and everything is just pressing on and in. Still, I keep going. I keep churning. Today and tomorrow are going to be busy days. Monday will be a busy day. I’m gonna crap on about nothing until I get to the top of the bottom of the middle of the top, and I’m not going to stop. Maybe my hopes and dreams lie within the crap.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:38:41

I’m a bit sluggish this morning and that sucks. Going to kick into high gear in a few hours, however. Might as well enjoy writing crap before I have to get really into the thing of things.

Written at home.

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Final: Untitled 4 (It Comes to us All)

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Not sure what happened here. Realised I was doing something, tried to stick to it as much as I could. I think it works well enough. Could be better, sure, but well enough for one listen.

Final’s “Untitled” is from It Comes to Us All. All of the album’s tracks are untitled,  and this is the fourth on the album.

As a side note, here’s a review of the album that I wrote a few years ago.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Increasing, growing, wavering, pulsing, layering. Growing, growing, becoming big, becoming massive, overwhelming, filling the space, then receding.

Growing, filling the space, some sound pulls away, sound changes, almost like rotating on an axis, and as it passes the melody moves through its stages.

Shrinking away, shrinking, then coming back. Pulsing warm, pulsing cold. Pulsing comfort. Continuous, drifting away. Drifting back, returning, following rings, following loops, as still as in motion.

Filling space, filling up, buzzing, filling space, dissipating, disappearing, wavering out of existence, shrinking, compressing, disappearing, fading away, and the song ends.

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Record Digging – Draft

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

So here’s this thing that I wrote, then decided could be the start of an essay on record digging. The full thing won’t be done by the time Stupidity Hole stops, so I figured it’d be worth sharing this now.

The final version of this essay will be published on From Somewhere out the Back. If you’ve been following my stuff here long enough, then you’ll recognise the name as the title for when I write about music releases in my music collection. I’d been intending to dedicate a space for those pieces for a while, and of course rather than hold to that, the space expanded to more than just music.

The draft below is just to give an idea of progress.

I hope you enjoy.

—

When I was a teenager I spent a lot of time browsing through record stores looking for music. Usually these would be quick, ten, maybe twenty-minute affairs as I’d have an idea of what I wanted to buy, and usually once or twice a month, but over time the visits increased to once every week or two, and occasionally they’d be for an hour, or sometimes hours if I was visiting more than one.

I spent a lot of time hunting down things that were difficult to get, such as Freibentos, and when I finally got a record player, I’d move more into the record sections, digging away, trying to see what came up. Before then, however, I did a dig at Goulds in Newtown, back in its old location. I dug through stacks of records and books, and unearthed Murder, Inc., Prong and An Emotional Fish. Good times.

But I spent a lot of time digging and listening, and I mean really listening to music, just taking it all in, being obsessed, but not so obsessed that I regretted doing my marine science degree.

My friend Ewe once told me that my knowledge of music was encyclopedic. I don’t think my knowledge is that advanced and probably never will be, but I am good at pulling out stuff that people might not know about artists they like, and I’m also good at finding stuff that people may like. Who isn’t, though? It just takes time and paying attention, and hoping you develop a good enough ear and understanding to be good at putting something forward.

I remember once someone trying to tell me the release order of some Godflesh stuff, and knowing that they were wrong. Shame. I also remember wanting to work in a record store. Still would be happy to, but I live in Sydney which makes it a challenge to do so these days. But I digress.

I’d flip through stacks and shelves, look at each record carefully, see what came forward. It’s what helped me get into Miles Davis. Would buy a record, bring it home, spin it when viable. Listen. Take it in, work toward understanding what I was hearing. What was going on.

In a some ways music as a physical format has been superseded, but there’s still something about the time investment a good-sounding record provides. You have to take it out of its sleeve, turn on the record player, get the needle in the right position, lower it, put it on. A record can be unwieldy, but its an intentional time investment. You have to be a participant in putting it on to listen to it, and so usually you’re making time to listen to one. You can put a record on in the background, but the issue there is that you’re going to be drawn back when it ends. You have to flip it, so when you put a record on you’re dedicating time and spending time with it. You’re making an intentional decision about how you want to hear and engage with music that requires some physical action.

I haven’t gone digging for a while. The convenience of being able to jump online and order, or just even put on a digital copy of an album is great. So much less time, but I feel that I’m not listening to stuff the same way. I’m still hungry; I’m still looking for stuff, seeing what comes up and I’m still listening, but there’s less time involved and the convenience takes away from the ritual, I feel. I don’t know if I could claim that this is a bad thing, however; it’s the way it is, but for what is gained something is lost, and that same kind of intimacy just isn’t there.

The last dig I did was at a record fare in Bathurst a couple of years ago. I was visiting Ewe and Anna, there was a fare on, so Ewen and I went down. Most of everything was overpriced, and nothing in particular caught our fancy, and sometimes that’s the way it is. It was still an enjoyable time in a way. The process of flipping through records, seeing what there is, and maybe something catches your eye. It can be like looking for a book, but not necessarily knowing how it’ll appear to you.

Sometimes you dig for stuff and you come across something by someone you’re familiar with, or something catches your eye and you don’t have an idea of how it’ll sound. If it turns out to be something you don’t enjoy, you’re still gaining something from what you’re hearing.

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Car Rant

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

I’m still hunting for a car. I’m doing it slowly as I don’t need one, and I especially don’t need one right now, but I am still hunting. Still trying to find one that I can be happy with and all that stuff. But it’s taking time, and I want something more modern with fewer bells and whistles.

An older car, it gets damaged, you take it to the mechanics and they fix it. They get the parts you need, whack the car a few times and suddenly it works again. It’s almost as though it was never damaged. Amazing stuff. Powerful. It’s great. You see a car as a pile of debris go in and then it comes out as though it was never damaged. Blows my mind.

You get a new car and they have a bunch of stuff I don’t want. I want a small screen at most, and I want as basic a display as possible. You can’t get that. You can’t get a car without adaptive butt warming and automatic crumple horns. I just want to press the go pedal and have my car go. I don’t want to press the go pedal and have my car ask if I am sure I want to go every single time, thus forcing me to take my eyes off the road and provide a DNA sample to confirm my decision to go. I’m rolling downhill and I need to start accelerating soon to maintain speed, I don’t feel the need to get me to fart into an oscillating sanctimony purifier is conducive to going much of anywhere these days.

You put a new car in for repairs and the parts they have means it needs to go to a black market and you get a horse and cart back, and the horse is mostly dead. And it’s like, cool, well at least I have this wheel, and then they’re like nah, you’re gonna have to pay for the wheel. And you’re just screwed, and now you have to nurse this horse back to health and once you do it just fucks off because it doesn’t know you and cannot discern your motives, therefore leading to it making the decision it feels is best in the situation, given the information it has at hoof, which is very little because all it has seen is you being resentful about the fact that you’re sleeping on the floor because the horse needs the bed to get to better health.

So now you’re stuck with this horseless and wheelless cart and you can’t do a damn thing about it. You’d go buy wood to make new wheels but you’ve nothing to bring the wood back with and you don’t want to go chopping down any trees.

But then the kicker? The part that was needed for the car, the one part that should’ve been easy, finally arrives but until you get the horse and cart back to whomever has your car at this point, you’re not getting the car fixed, so now you have to go on this journey just to find a horse that did the sensible thing so you’ve got to learn about tracking a horse and all that, only to find out later it’s had a family and is doing well and the whole thing is ridiculous.

I miss my car.

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Toilet Music

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

A few weekends ago I was walking through Marrickville and past a public bathroom. I had to use it, and quite badly, so in I went. Door shuts and locks. Some smooth piano jazz version of the chorus of “What the World Needs now is Love” starts playing, and I recognise it as something I’d heard before.

Somewhere around being seventeen or eighteen, I found myself in a park near where I grew up. Might have actually been twenty-one or twenty-two, but I suspect it was before then. Anyway, I was in a park near where I grew up and I had to use the bathroom. I went in, door locked and piano music started playing. I remember some of it being quite affecting, and it was a rather bizarre experience.

This happened again a number of years later whilst walking to Balls Head… I think. I wrote about it here and I think it was during a walk to Balls Head. It was bizarre then, too. Safe to say it was a bizarre experience this time around also.

I’m wondering why this is a thing. Who thought it’d be a good idea. Is it meant to soother the waste disposal processes? Is it meant to calm the user? Why is this a thing?

It is probably there to provide a sense of calm. Help people relax, or feel relaxed. I imagine it’s stuff that you’re not meant to pay too much attention to, either, but how do I know? What is the plan? What is the aim here? I mean, if I went to the toilet and some jazz pianist started playing JAZZ at me, I’d not feel very relaxed. Was the plan to see how close to terrorising they could get before it became terrorising people? Was it to lull people into a false sense of security whilst someone’s arms slipped through a crack to take wallets from pants? I don’t know!

Sometimes I wonder about these things a bit too much, but I’m glad they exist. I imagine the idea really is to just create a calming sensation. To fill a perceived awkward space. I just find it a bit odd, myself, but I can only imagine a lot of people out there who enjoy that little extra bit. It doesn’t have to mean much of anything, though I imagine it does.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say about this thing.

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