Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1567: Slow Day

There’s something really nice about just sitting here, writing whilst my partner writes. It’s a slow day. A still day. We’ve done very little, but we’ve talked and talking is good. And it’s a nice day. A pleasant day.

Originally our plan was to head into the city. It was predicted to rain all day so the city would have been empty. This would have been great as we’d have it all to ourselves, or at least a good chunk of it. Would have been great for photography. Alas, the weather cleared. There no longer was reason to go to the city.

Well there’s plenty of reason, but the reason here was lacking. It was not what we wanted. Instead we spent the day at home and we’ve been sitting here, trying to no procrastinate but instead procrastinating, and now we are writing. I am writing; they are writing. This is all writing process, and this is great. This is a nice way to be about things as we can just take it easy. Relax, you know. Those sorts of things.

There’s something small and boring about this. Something nice and relaxed, and I like it. I like that we are able to relax in this particular moment. I like that we can have a slow day, because a boring day can be a nice day. It’s not what we planned. It’s still nice.

I find it nice as I spent so much of my life stressing about things. Frequently in a state that involves the distress of the conscious. Of pressure on the body. Right now… I’m mostly okay. I am breathing. I am relaxing. I am enjoying the time that I have, and I know I need to do more of that because I don’t do it anywhere near as much as I should.

I’m wondering to myself about the reflection 0n this table. I’m wondering about the spread of shadow upon a roof I can see. I see tiles and they seem layered over the tiles on other roofs. There are patterns and layers, and gradually this room is darkening. And it’s all so mundane and boring and wonderful at the same time. All this stuff.

I just feel easy and tired and… yeah. Just a good time. A nice time. A pleasant time. And I  feel myself growing incredibly tired, and that’s okay too because it means I am actually relaxed.

The trees sway as wind passes around them, and birds make their sounds before they fly about. The room grows old and tired, too, and two of us are trying to work out their thoughts. Two of us are trying to work out what to say before words are put into being, and there’s no pressure. We are creating, sure, but there is no pressure to succeed or exceed. We’re just getting the things done that we want to get done, and we’re taking it easy, and the day is nearly over, and it’s nice.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:48:04

I started off writing pretty quickly. Slowed down a bit, but that’s okay. I don’t mind here.

Am I happy with this bit of writing? Not sure. I like what I’ve written, but the way I’ve written it… Oh well.

Written at home.

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Willebrant: Galaxias

One listen, just went in, wrote and wrote and wrote some more. Not sure about the result, but I’m happy with the process on this one. It was easy enough for me to get this written, though it was a little slower than I’d hoped.

Willebrant’s “Galaxias” is from Stony.

I hope you enjoy.

The calm, the bird sounds. The water flows and it moves, and a sound rings out. A drop creating ripples. Energy spreading out from a point, spreading away. Energy transferred from one space to a greater body, and more sound rings out, rings away.

In this a narrative reveals itself, or perhaps it doesn’t. It seems to spread out like the energy and looks for memories to find a common thread within everything. A common thread that could explain something.

Something a little heavier seems to reveal itself between the rings. Something a little sadder, but it doesn’t take over. It stays in the back, and gradually it, along with the sounds, fade away and the song ends.

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Willebrant: mimosa

One listen, and this one came much easier than yesterday’s. I was quite tired when I tried to write yesterday, whereas right now I’m feeling much more awake, which is why I think this was easier. I think I did a better job in capturing something about this song, too.

Willebrant’s “mimosa” is from Stony.

I hope you enjoy.

Space comes into focus. A space of movement and motion, and slow days. Relaxed days. Peace, calm, perhaps. A deep nothingness meaning everything. Ecological process without the sense of gradual external stressors placed upon them.

Drifting slowly, drifting away. drifting into a peace, a slumber. Drifting and floating away, or rather not floating anywhere, but the image becomes vague. Blurry. Still specific, however.

And these sounds waft and float on there, getting on with their day, doing what they need to do. Keeping things easy, keeping things difficult, moving in and out of focus. The frame moves and what is there changes. Gradually, easily, peacefully, until the sounds fade away and the song ends.

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Willebrant: Mountain Trout

One listen.

I thought I’d have more come forward, but I was wrong. Oh well.

Willebrant’s “Mountain Trout” is from Stony.

I hope you enjoy.

Water, insects and bird sounds. A calm image is painted, or a lively one that is calm. Slow sounds waft in, paint more image, form the riverbanks. Something starts stepping up, echoing almost, and the air is refreshing, and the space almost seems timeless.

Another sound plucks and lingers, and it moves here and there, and the other sounds seem playful in a way. They seem reverent of their surrounds and playful. Around them is life and scene that we cherish and it all fades away as the song ends.

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Traversing Dunes at Dusk

I started this in early January, put it down, then resumed work a few days ago. Don’t know why it took me so long to get around to finishing it, but it did.

This is a trace of a photo I took of my new partner standing on a sand dune. At dusk. I thought I’d use them as a base to draw a person with some slightly loose clothes on them being blown by the wind. Couldn’t figure out some clothes that’d be appropriate that I could draw well enough, so I tried a dress. That didn’t work as well as just going for my partner.

I hope you enjoy.

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Birthday Thoughts

It’s a quiet, calm day. It’s a slow day. Right now it is raining, and right now I kind of wish that I was back in Glebe, watching the rain fall from my living room, or watching it fall whilst walking around Blackwattle Bay. From the living room was always nice enough, or even from the balcony, really, but going to the bay and seeing water fall onto water… that was pretty pleasant to me. Nice, relaxing. Kind of dramatic, too.

My view is of the front yard, street and the oversized house across the road, and it doesn’t quite capture that feel that I desire right now. I do like that I can sit here and appreciate the rain whilst dry, don’t get me wrong. I like that I can sit here and write about it, too. I just miss place and scene, or rather, I miss it being within convenient reach. I don’t know if I’d go back and live in Glebe unless I could afford to without issue, and I’d only go back for the convenience it offers.

But I’m sitting here. I’m watching the rain. I’m hearing the rain. It has been a slow day and that’s good, I think. It’s what I needed… probably. Just taking it easy, doing very little. It has been nice. It’s also needed as I’ve stuff to take care of tomorrow and I need to be awake enough to do said stuff, so today being easy is good.

Today is my birthday, and it has left me reflective of the last twelve months more than I would have liked, but that’s the way these things go. I’m here, I’m alive and I’m still kicking. I’m in a new relationship with someone who is, so far, better than my recent ex, and I’m feeling tired and downbeat. Worn out and reflective, and drained. However, it hasn’t been a sad day.

Today I’ve received well-wishing from quit a lot of people, and it has been a bit surprising. I’ve also had people I haven’t spoken to in years reach out, and it’s left me feeling a bit emotional about the whole thing. I know people care about me and care about what I do. I know there are people who want to9 see me do well, but having so many people reach out… the last twelve months have mostly been tough. Just a real perseverance test, and I’m mostly fine.

Sometimes I still grieve, but it’s seldom for very long. But I did feel unlovable, even if I knew that wasn’t true. I did feel like I wasn’t someone people should care about. I was pretty down on myself. It was great that my friends had my back when I got dumped, because that helped me get through everything, but all it takes is one person to get in the way of that care fully sinking in. One person can do a lot of damage, even if unintentional.

The last twelve months were tough, and I’m glad that, even through it all, my friends cared about me. I’m glad that my friends still care about me. I’m glad that I’m in a loving relationship, too. And I’m glad I got through the last twelve months.

So my birthday today is a bit of a mix, but the people who care about me are in it, and for that I’m grateful.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 244: Eat the Roll

Alright, here we go. Third attempt. Going to try and get some real crap written now. Don’t know if I can, but still going to try. One should always try.

The music has been reset. I’m in a better position for writing. I think I can do this. I hope I can do this. I am doing it, but will I do it?

Oh no, the questions are creeping in again!

So anyway, I think I can do it and it is good exercise, really. Just getting all of these thoughts out and organising myself in a way that allows me to write quickly. That allows me to write rapidly. I am having some difficulty, but I can do it and I will do it, and maybe after it is all done, it will be done and therefore it will be… completed. For a few seconds, anyway.

But now I can look out the window and see sunlight, and my position is already relaxing and that is never a good thing. There are holes in the ceiling tiles and they are designed that way. They almost look like a net and I can see through them. I can see what lies beyond the net. It’s just the usual hidden stuff, and it’s not that interesting.

I’d prefer to be next to a window right now. Much better light and all that. Still, it’s not so bad here. This is an alright space to be in at the present moment, but it could be better. I could have won the lottery and therefore be doing my long and moody drive into wherever I will go.

I could also slide there, but the sweaty film has been removed and so I’d just hurt myself quite badly if I attempted that.

So anyway, I’m sitting here, doing my usual thing. Writing far more words than I should. Doing more writing than is necessary. There’s still a lot to churn out before it can be declared that there is nothing left to churn out. That’ll be not too far away, anyway. But I have a plan and writing utter crap is part of that plan, really. It’s all nonsense and it’s all moody nonsense, with a sprinkling of depression on your roll so you can eat the roll and as you eat the roll you can taste the depression and, therefore, feel sad, or something.

It’s all about the miserable factor, really. The more miserable, the more poignant. The more touching. The greater the crap, the greater the feelings. And it’s all about the cheap grab. Don’t go for the deep, stay in the shallow. You know, those sorts of things.

However, there might just be a spark of joy, too. There might just be something that reveals that it’s all worth it. All that suffering and all the other things people who are more often than not in a position where they don’t suffer as much as you tell you. But I do think the misery is worth it, sometimes, because it can help us learn things. I do think there are better way to learn things, however.

I don’t know. I just don’t feel right being happy all the time, so my view here is heavily skewed.

So the day continues and I keep on writing and I keep on racing the clock. I’m falling behind but I’m doing my time well, and there are only a few minutes before the end of the work day left. Only a few minutes, and I am one person writing far more than I should, but it’s worthwhile writing… I hope. I hope it’s worthwhile, if only because it is allowing me to keep on writing. It is allowing me to do the thing that I wanted to do. Or rather, I am allowing myself to do the think that I wanted to do. And so the day goes and I keep on racing and hoping. I keep on trying. You have to keep trying in life; it’s what helps you get to something at the end of it all, or something.

I’m running out of things to say. Can you tell?

Anyway, the day is nearly over. I am nearly at the end of it and soon I will go home and get stressed due to having to clean up after other people. I’m not looking forward to that, but I’ll get it done. I’ll survive. I always do. Not much else to do, really.

Guess I could succeed.

But right now I am sitting here, and I am appreciating the space. I am appreciating the time ticking away, and I’m appreciating being alive. It’s a good feeling. Who knows how long it will last. I’m not worried, though. I’ve got plenty of time to go through what I have to go through. I have places to be and people to see, and I have a desk to sit at that will allow me to sit in a position that I can only describe as “one of the positions one can sit in”, and that is a good thing. Or it’s not. This is yet to be determined. Or is it?

So anyway, there are only a few minutes left. I keep going. I keep writing away and I keep racing the clock, and I keep saying everything I’ve said before. It’s all cyclical, or a spiral, or something. But I can smell the minutes ticking away, and I just want to make sure I get out on time. I want to make sure that I taste that sweet, polluted air when I get outside, so then I can say “I don’t need to smoke.” I won’t say that, however, because that would be an utterly ridiculous thing to say in this situation, and I want to be as serious as I possibly can be, but I won’t. I won’t. I’ll step outside and I’ll be quiet. Probably suits me much better, or something.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 09:56:49

Happy to admit that this was not worth the time, nor effort. So many better things could’ve been written. Nothing would have been better to write.

Written at work.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1566: Pointless Writing

I was hoping to write much faster earlier, but that went out the window. I started thinking more about what I was writing and I’ve got this moody, underwater-type music playing and that all probably didn’t help. Gave me the feelings. Can’t do this with the feelings. Only makes things go bad, or something. So now I try to write a bit faster. Now is the time where I do the thing and the thing is more writing.

Ah, I’m gonna get moody again.

See, I can’t do this, sometimes. Sometimes I just want to write the most pointless crap anyone’s ever read, and instead I get all serious and heavy and downbeat, and that carries me through but it doesn’t make for fun. Who wants to read years and years of someone being miserable? Who really wants to read that? But I can’t be happy when I’m just listening to misery coming from my phone and into my ears. I can’t do that.

But maybe today is the day. Maybe today is the day where that all changes and I finally reveal myself to be the greatest best who ever didn’t. If that happens, I’d be over the moon. I’d be chuffed. I’d be so chuffed that no one could out-chuff me. Therefore, something something and so on and so forth.

I think my hands might be getting weaker at the moment. I think I’ve been losing too much sleep, and therefore need to bounce back by having too much sleep. I can engineer this, somehow. I can make it happen. The question, however, is: Will I bother to make this happen? Right now I’m stuck on trying to not be miserable, however, so I need to focus on that. I can focus on that by hurting my wrists even more than I already have.

I’m looking at this and I’m looking at the landscape I’m painting, and I can only wonder as to how far I must go before I can’t go any further. Perhaps there will be a day where I call it a day, and in knowing the name of the day I know the shape of it and, subsequently, how to proceed from here.

It’s not over there.

So it’s moody music and moody times, and I feel like I’m underwater, or experiencing life in a living room that has one of those underwater lights that always seem so cheap and tacky, even if a little wonderful. I feel like I’m meant to be on drugs and having a moment. Getting all deep for no reason. Don’t need drugs for that, though. I can get plenty deep sober, and dig far too deep doing so, too!

And so I am feeling it and now I’m starting to pull out of that, and I don’t know. It’s just another day in a chain of days. I know how to get through it, and the music is wearing off on me. Fine with being underwater still, though.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 08:31:90

Technically not pointless, but you get the idea. Also, slower than I’d hoped.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 243: Beyond the Windows

I have a bit of time and I’m trying to kill it. I’m trying to find the path forward. There’s a line of shade outside, and the sun cuts into where shade once was. Pushes it away. Removes it. Makes it shrink back to a different position. Moves it elsewhere.

It’s a still day. A dull day. One wants to stare out the window and wonder what else is out there, and I know what else is out there. I’ve been there. There is more to life than this. There is so much more.

I remember when I was still working in St Leonards, there were times when I’d look out the window. I’d look out on a day with minimal cloud cover, and things seemed different. Things seemed at a distance, and you could see Sydney CBD, both close and far away, and I’d stare out. I wondered if that was all my life would amount to. I wondered if I was going to be stuck in that job for the rest of my life. It was a tough time, even when things got better. Even when I was working toward a better tomorrow, because I’d been in call centres for too long by that point.

That was in 2014 and 2015 and that was during my dealing with the aftermath of getting dumped, and that ex I have to thank in a way. Had she not dumped me, I probably wouldn’t have gotten back into writing as hard as I did.

I’d look out the window there and into the distance, and I’d feel trapped. I’d feel stuck. I felt there was no escape and I couldn’t amount to much of anything, and those feelings kept me there, for as much as I wanted to get out, there wasn’t much a point. I was worthless and it wasn’t worth trying. That’s probably beyond the surface of what I felt, which was mainly hopelessness.

I said it a while ago, but I’ve had trouble with fitting into other places since St Leonards. I made some great friends there, with Ewe being one of them. I met some wonderful people, and it felt like a space full of outcasts, in a sense. And perhaps, in a way, we belonged to each other, because we were a good crew.

When redundancy came we scattered in the wind. We mostly went in different directions and lost contact with each other. Or rather, most of us did. Some of us remained in contact and still do. But otherwise a lot of communication stopped, which was for the best. Plenty of us only communicated because we worked with each other. We were a group that fit together only in the conditions of being in the office.

I remember watching storms roll across and through the area, and I remember the way they’d change the landscape. Things disappeared and the hopelessness would be met with a sense of isolation. In a way, it’s easy to feel isolated in a good few office spaces, and if there’s unnecessary pressure and toxic management, it can really come forward. But you survive and you keep on going, and you wake up on another day and you try to get through it all again.

I remember walking from the city home, and it was a decent walk. An easy thirty minutes, around that amount of time. I remember walking through crowds, and I remember walking to the city to catch either a bus or train, too. I’d sometimes be walking in the dark, and it was nice as there were few people around. I’d get to where I’d need to get to quickly enough.

I remember listening to Serious Beak and Killing Joke in 2015, and really enjoying the albums they put out in that year, though Serious Beak’s I enjoyed more. And I remember that, once I’d gotten past the stress of not having another job immediately lined up, feeling okay with things. I felt okay as it meant I could study full-time, and that was something I desired more than I did having another full-time job.

Steadily the day of redundancy was approached, and rules became a bit more lax in the office, and people were happy, and some weren’t. But I think, collectively, redundancy was something we all looked forward to. I know that, eventually, I did. It was just nice to know where we stood, and there certainly was a sense of relief in having it confirmed that it was coming when we did. We weren’t surprised as word had already gotten out.

I think of my leaving of that place, and maybe I reflect on that as my current contract is drawing to a close, and I’m wondering what lies beyond the windows. What else is out there. Those sorts of things. Thinking about when I’ll can stop worrying about hopping from contract to contract. Hoping I can stop worrying.

Obviously I was younger in 2015 than I am now. Things change. I’m tired. I haven’t had an experience like I did working in St Leonards since. I felt like I belonged. I don’t want to go back to that, however. Even if it was the greatest thing in the world, I wouldn’t want to go back. Working there was foundational to who I am now. It helped reinforce how I feel people should be treated. I went through a bad time there, and met some great people. I could write about some of the silly things that happened there, and maybe one day I will. Not today, however. Today I’m going to try and take it easy. There’s work here to do, and there are windows to stare out. This space is quiet, and it’s pleasant, and it’s also empty. It doesn’t feel like the future, and I will drift on to wherever comes next.

Here, when I look out windows, the views don’t leave me feeling trapped. Everything feels more pleasant. Everything is within my reach.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 19:12:48

Slower than I’d hoped. I started thinking quite a lot about what I was writing. I don’t think it shows, but it’s there.

Written at work.

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A Bright Light Surrounded by Night

This is the same utility pole as the one in this sunset photo. I wanted to get a photo of it with more of it visible. Didn’t work, but I got this minimal photo, which I quite like. Feels a bit vague and isolated.

This is my submission into Leanne Cole‘s “Monochrome Madness” for this week. She is hosting this one, and has chosen the theme of “Taken Within 10km (roughly 6 miles) From Home”.

This challenge is open to all, and I recommend joining in. If want to, check out more information about it here, and include the tag “monochrome-madness” when you share your photo. If you’d prefer not to join in, then at the least check out Leanne’s photography, and what other people submit.

I hope you enjoy.

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