Mercury, Part 3

Posted on April 9, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

The third part of this NaNoWriMo attempt from a few years ago (part 2 here, part 1 here). Whilst looking over this I remembered why I stopped before completing, and doing so was good for my health.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Purvell arrived on time, or at least the time that they had hoped to arrive and looked around the pub. They saw Clay and Rigby already seated and made their way to the table.

There was some small conversation around how long the days had become, though of course none were necessarily complaining. There wasn’t much room for complaint, really.

Purvell decided to get up and get a drink, as well as food. They were behind Clay and Rigby who already had. He found that he felt heavy when he tried to stand up, as though all their limbs were being weighed down by years of fatigue suddenly catching up. They didn’t feel tired, but they lacked the strength they required. The tedium of the past few months were beginning to take their toll and they needed something more happening so they could stay busy. They were not used to this kind of lack of work and it was beginning to affect them.

With a bit of struggle they were able to get up and off to the bar they went. People were moving through pretty quickly so Purvell didn’t have to wait too long, thankfully. They soon ordered and went to pay, but payment failed. It appeared as though it was a fault of the machine – the bartender suggested it had been playing up that evening – and after multiple attempts it was decided to let Purvell drink and eat for free. It was how it had been for most of the patrons that evening and the bar could write off the loss as something to invoice the machine supplier for.

Purvell, still feeling weighted but perhaps a little lighter now, seemed to glide on back to the table with their drink. From there, the conversation between the three became livelier and perhaps a little more animated. Debates about what things meant, if they meant anything at all, debates about what their research indicated and discussions about future funding all went through the wringer of three people gradually growing inebriated, but of course there was only so far the conversation could go before it became stilted.

In an awkward silence Purvell decided to bring up what they saw. Despite trying to put it out of mind they found themselves unable to do so. It lurked in the corners, looking for the right time to creep on forward. Ultimately there was no fighting it and so it had to come out.

Clay and Rigby sat there, thinking in silence about what was being said, wondering about whether this was even worth pursuing. For them there was far less niggling, far less eating away at the corners of their thoughts. They hadn’t seen it. The most they saw was something that likely was footage glitching in the slightest, most minute amount. They could get on with things and their thoughts and desire to know more was much more easily suppressed. For Purvell, they didn’t have that luxury and so they just had to talk about what had happened, about what they saw.

Purvell was trying to work things out more than trying to discuss anything, and even though they had the right words and terminology to try and reach a scientific explanation, irrespective of how rough it was, they still were left puzzled by what they saw. Eventually Clay and Rigby decided to join in to try and help come to some sort of rough consensus to at least put the thing to rest, but they too were unable to reach anything all could agree upon. All that would come up was another theory, all of which were hastily scrawled upon the underside of a coaster. Otherwise it was nothing they could all find themselves agreeing upon, not due to disagreeing with each other, but none agreeing firmly on even their own theories that they’d try to posit.

Nothing revealed itself as being superior over the others and so, after the third coaster, Purvell gave up. It wasn’t worth considering any more at this point, but they still considered it for there was little else that could be done. It was just phenomena at the end of the day, but it was interesting phenomena that etched itself firmly into Purvell’s memory. Yet, try as they might, they were unable to remember it in the way that they saw Mercury moving through the retrograde path. Each time they tried to picture it, the form changed in some manner, as though their memory was allowing it to change form.

Purvell mentioned this and Rigby wondered if this was like trying to remember the experience of being on acid, not that they had tried any before of course. Purvell said that it wasn’t, that trying to remember things that were experienced whilst on acid just brought up the experience as though there was no tripping, though Purvell only had the word of other people. Clay wasn’t quite sure what the other two were talking about, but they were adamant that they had never touched any drug and so there was no further pursuing the line of thought.

They sat there in silence for a while, puzzling over various things, trying to work out others on their own and letting the thoughts on Mercury retrograde pass on by as though they were viewed from a train window. Slowly the pub emptied, for it was getting late, and it was not long before last drinks were called.

More people left whilst the three finished off their last drinks. The weight had expanded beyond Purvell and became something dank and almost nasty. It was no longer weighing so much as it was pressing down, and it limited movement, but movement had to be made and leaving the pub was soon required. Under immense pressure the three rose, one of which was to the bathroom, and the two others to the exit.

Soon all three were outside and so they began to make their way home. All three lived near enough to each other and so the walk continued with some sort of joviality. Maybe it was the pub’s atmosphere that was weighing things down, for being outside added a bit of a spring to the step, though the three of them remained sluggish. The three of them also had to work in the morning. The thought of going to the observatory and sleeping there for the night was floated, but quickly struck down. Were they more sober they probably would’ve gone for it, but they were certain that the night crew would not appreciate three people being loud before passing out and smelling like the pub.

Soon they parted ways and Purvell continued on their lonesome past a few blocks to their place. It seemed like an eternity, though it was one measured in a period of a few minutes, and by the time they got home they were sobering up.

Once they were in they saw the time and realised that it was later than they thought. They weren’t looking forward to the morning and what awaited them and so they stood there in the dark of their hallway, thinking about things that didn’t matter as much as getting to sleep did.

After a few more minutes of stillness they switched the hallway light on. The switch gave a slight shock, which jolted Purvell into sobriety a bit harder than they would have liked, or at least gave them a few moments of non-alcohol drenched clarity. The place was old and they needed to get a few things fixed; they’d been meaning to look at the hallway light for a while anyway as it had been a bit faulty, but it was still something they didn’t need, regardless of how minute the shock was.

Purvell realised that they were spending far too much time being annoyed by the shock and so got back on with things. They made their way quickly through their pre-sleep routine and hopped into bad as quickly as they could. They felt that haste was of the essence and so it was haste that they moved with, but they found their thoughts consumed once more by what they saw. They tried to puzzle it out for a bit and wondered if it held any merit whatsoever. It was quite possible that it was just an event, if it was anything at all, for the more they thought about it the more they doubted that they saw anything. They began to wonder if they would be thinking about any of this had nothing occurred and it had just been a regular Mercury retrograde, but they also knew that there was no point in thinking about that either.

The more Purvell thought about it, the more they knew it was pointless to consider and the more they wanted to think about it. As the minutes moved they became more stuck upon a loop of thought and it was readily consuming them. There was almost a sense of obsession in it all, and even though Purvell knew the uselessness of all this fixating upon one thing, they found themselves unable to think otherwise. Maybe there would be answers in the morning. Maybe there would be nothing at all. Maybe something would unfold over however long was needed to take for these things to unfold.

Purvell briefly floated the idea of heading to where the path actually was, wherever in space it was, to see if there was anything to see there, but they also knew that this was exceptionally silly to consider and so once more pushed something out of their mind. It was too costly and there was no way that Purvell could get around all the requirements to do it without the required people being unaware and so it was discarded, and once more the event itself was considered.

The event was considered for a long time, and carefully thought out, or at least it was seen as a long time, but it was over in a matter of minutes for sleep, finally having its way, sent Purvell into something deep that only an alarm coming off as a siren a few hours later could wake them up from.

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Austin Wintory: Nascence

Posted on April 8, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

One listen.

I was hoping to get this done at the start of the month. Didn’t quite pan out. Got it down now, however, and I’m happy for that. The result is fine, could be better. Could be worse. I think I captured the song well enough, at least.

Austin Wintory’s “Nascence” is from Journey, the soundtrack for Journey.

I hope you enjoy.

—

A string, possibly a violin stirs. Alone, searching, drifting along. Moving through a space. Moving at the start of it all. Soon other sounds come in, gentle, creating more frame in an arid space. Dry.

Woodwind follows and the loneliness of the journey comes down. Loneliness and conviction, and sounds swell and rise up. They rise and expand and express more, looking to affect. They minimise, show a tenderness, show the arduous nature of what is to come, carry the full story along, and they soon come to rest and the song ends.

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Photographing

Posted on April 8, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

A photo of a person taking photos whilst on sand dunes.

This is my submission into Leanne Cole‘s “Monochrome Madness” for this week. PR of Flights of the Soul hosts this one, and she has chosen the theme of “Minimalism”.

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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One Thousand Word Challenge 279: Changing Space

Posted on April 8, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

It’s currently time for lunch and the space is empty. I believe it’s due to mid-semester break or something, but it’s still quote empty, and in a way it feels troubling that it is. It’s not, but it feels like.

I guess I’m just feeling a little lonely still. Alone. In this space usually filled with sounds and murmurs, but now just still. Machinery here and there, people shuffling about, but far fewer than usual. You can almost hear the silence. You can almost feel it. It’s odd. Or not, but I’m claiming it is as I can and am, so… yeah.

Just sitting here, writing. Trying to work out where to go next. Trying to work out how I carve a path from here to the end of the day. Trying to figure out a lot of things and figuring out nothing in the process. But that’s okay. It could be worse. Could be better, too, but could be worse.

So I’m sitting here and I think I can hear the sound of air conditioning. It’s so intensely a background noise that it could almost not be there. The sound could almost just be structural design. Another machine is humming, and it might be warming up. I don’t know; I’m not a machine person. At least with most things I am not.

Sitting here, thinking to myself. Does this place exist as a place if no one is here to experience it? Well, yes, but (sorry to repeat myself) a place is more than just its physical existence, I think. It’s also the people who participate in it. It’s the activity within a place that helps it exist as one, but this creates a secondary place. It’s still physical, of course, but it’s the structure of interaction and activity that creates a secondary version of the place, and I’m trying to think of the term I want to use that I feel best describes this, but I’ve got nothing right now. Such is life. It’s all good and it’s all groovy.

So I sit here I sit here in a place that is empty and a place that is still. And of course it’s not empty, but it feels empty, but I’m going with that. I’m sitting here, writing about it and writing about how it’s odd to me, but it’s all okay. It’s all fine. There are other, more important things to think about, like when the best time to go downstairs will be. After going down the stairs, I will of course have to go up the stairs later. I need to prepare myself for this. I need to make sure that I know what I’m doing and how I’m going about doing it.

And so everything continues on and I feel myself sitting here. I know that I am sitting here. I know that I am trying to take up space and words and weave them into something that creates imagery, and maybe I’ve just circled a little too much into a swirl that has gotten far too close to its final point, and so what is left? Other than the sound of a door?

And now I can hear voices, and it approaches as though a storm. It approaches as though heavy waters, and I cannot tell if it is coming from downstairs or somewhere else on this floor. It grows loud and almost joyous. It holds a certain passion, and it surges and heaves, and diminishes. It shrinks down back into a level, thick layering, and it continues on forever and ever, droning, cutting into the silence. Replacing the place with a new place. A new form, taking over, moving, moving, moving somewhere, spreading out and moving some more. It does not stop. It is unrelenting. It is not unpleasant, however. It strips back the sense of isolation. The sense of loneliness. That’s something I can get behind, but in a way it makes it more difficult for me to embrace some sadness and milk it for all it’s worth, and then some. Ah well.

The building fills with life and it remains as it always was, but the feeling of its colours and shades and tones changes. The structure no longer feels as cold and rigid as it did before. It no longer feels like an isolating place, uncaring about its visitors. And the building itself becomes more difficult to notice. Sure, it must still be navigated, but that’s something else entirely. That’s not something to be concerned with or worry about. It’s easy enough to do and it’s done on a regular enough basis, anyway. You learn the shape and where to walk, and everything starts coming easy, and then it’s all grand and nice and all that other stuff.

And now the sound is spreading further, having consumed downstairs entirely. It is now coming up here, spreading even further. Spreading thinner, almost. It is expanding, but it is stretching. It is not growing. It is reaching, and now there are holes audible from where most of it is coming from. It continues on, spreading further and further, stretching out, breaking apart. Fragmenting, no longer able to hold a shape. It keeps on fragmenting, it changes its form and the space changes with it.

There are holes of loneliness, of isolation, and they are avoided, but the change shape with the sounds. They are moving around each other and circling, spreading in and around and growing and shrinking, and it continuously changes shape. Everything keeps changing, and some of the sound now grows distant, moving away, dragging itself along, dragging and breaking apart, trying to survive and failing to do so. And it goes on and on, and then it goes on some more, and it slowly disappears.

More sound clusters here, growing loud, louder, and louder still. Loud in a mostly quiet space, when there is no need, and it feels unnecessary. It feels too much, and lacking thought. Minimally cacophonous.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 13:26:91

I had what I felt was some good thought going on when I was writing this. However, I don’t think it panned out as well as I thought it would.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 278: Slipping

Posted on April 8, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Another day is slipping on by, but today I’m going to do my best to make sure that I don’t waste it. There is a lot to do, of course, but there always is.

Today is going to be a day of a lot of crap writing, but it’s only happening as there is something that I’ve been meaning to try and do for a while, and unless I get it done now, I won’t get it done. It’s sort of a “now or never” thing. I could reattempt tomorrow, but I’d rather today. I’d rather not keep putting it off, and if today goes the way that I hope it does, then tomorrow might just also.

So I’m sitting here. I’ve done all my work and I still have quite a few hours to defeat. I don’t know what to do from here, other than the things I’d normally do if I was not working, so that’s what I am doing. I am doing this and that, and then I’m doing the other things that follow. And I’ll get them done. I’ll knock them all down.

I know this place has been a massive roller coaster when it comes to quality and emotional expression, and I’m not feeling great right now. I’ve felt better. But I’m gonna be back on the road soon. I’m going to get back up and keep walking. I’m gonna keep moving. I can only push onward and get to the end of this and everything else that comes. I’m quite behind where I was hoping to be. I was hoping to be much further along, but life and other things. Plans don’t work all the time, or even half the time. Maybe some of the time, but really it’s none of the time. But that’s okay because you just keep on going. You push onward and look for a new day. A new down, a new tomorrow and you try again. I hope I do the same.

There’s so much pressing down on everyone right now. So much uncertainty about whether we have a tomorrow or not. Genuinely scary times. I feel that, however, now really is the time to live. Now is the time to be alive and live defiantly in the face of the sheer uncertainty that we face.

Now is the time to walk and travel and keep moving, and experience the world. Now is the time to look after each other, and uplift those around us. Now is the time to strengthen community and understanding and outreach, and now is the time to embrace what is around us with care and love. All this fucking hate won’t get us anywhere, and it’s failing to do any good as far as I can see.

Tomorrow comes, but if we do not rise to the occasion, then how can we claim we did anything? Joy as an act of resistance, but joy for the sake of our hearts and souls, and mental health too. We keep pushing on and we keep on living.

In a few weeks I’ll be on the road again and I’ll be heading down south. I’ll be heading away from New South Wales for the first time in far too long, and it will be a necessary trip. It will be one that’ll be good for my soul. Give me time for thinking. Give me time for rest. Allow me to recuperate a bit, and maybe sleep.

I’m looking forward to being on empty roads and getting brief glimpses of the landscape that I won’t be able to hold. That I won’t be able to touch, but I’ll stop and get out of the car and look at it all, and take it all in. I’ll experience the world around me, and I’ll find myself spreading across and becoming one with the landscape. It won’t be transformative, but it will be soothing. It will help me relax and unwind, and that is something I need to do more of.

Everything is pressing down, but my back won’t break, and neither will yours. We don’t have to necessarily push back, but we do need to understand that the weight does not have to crush us. We can choose to bear it, and we can choose to put it down temporarily. Or at least, when we have the right tools and structures in place we can. If need be, we might have to choose to walk away, and that’s a good choice to make in a lot of instances. It’s not one enough people make, and I know that I’m one of them.

I can almost feel the road calling. I can almost feel it rolling underneath me as I move along it, through open, empty spaces full of everything, and I can almost feel it as it winds through mountainous passes. Long straights across an old country, following bends and curves through tall, enclosed regions. And I’ll drive and drive on, and drive some more and I’ll keep going, looking for something. Looking for something that speaks to me in a way that I haven’t been spoken to in a long time. And I’ll bring it back with me and share it around, because life is too short and there isn’t enough movement and freedom given to people. There isn’t enough, and we need it more than ever before.

Where did we go so wrong? At what part did we send ourselves off of a good path to something better? To something that allowed us to breathe? I wish I could say, but I don’t know. But it seems to me that a lot of things are really wrong with how we’re going about life, and that worries me quite a lot. It worries me as we’re just going on and on, and we’re not allowed the time or space, and so we have to make it for ourselves and others. But we can have it, and we should.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 13:23:96

Good speed, but looks like I’m reattempting tomorrow. The day got away.

Written at work.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 277: Time Passes

Posted on April 8, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Once more I find myself in Duoly Rob. I’m sitting here, thinking about my life choices. I’m thinking about where I’m drifting off to, and I’m thinking about the amount of writing I need to do between now and later in order to get later to now. All I really have to do is wait, but you know.

Time passes, there’s a few more white hairs on my head, and I’m tired and drained, but I feel alright. I feel a bit worn out and I’m trying to work on my posture again, and I’m sitting here full of worries and a sense of neutral expression at the same time. Something and nothing, I guess.

There is pleasant music playing, and the coffee I have next to me shakes with every stroke of the lkeys on this keyboard. There’s some traffic and the world is waking up, but I feel asleep. It’s going to be a long day. It always is, and it never is.

Time slips away like a fish, or an eel, or anything else that we might consider as being slimy. Time slips away and it doesn’t come back, so we need to make the most of it. Sometimes making the most of the time we have is doing very little, however. Sometimes we need to take it easy. Sometimes we need to rest. The body can only go so far for so long on very little, and if we aren’t taking care of ourselves, then we fall apart. We fall apart, and some things cannot be repaired.

Sometimes taking care of ourselves involves just heading out into the sun. To a park, somewhere. Having the space to relax the brain. Relax your mind. That sort of thing.

There are parks I haven’t visited in a while that I want to return to. Places I want to explore again, and I want to see them as I am now. See what they tell me about me, if they do indeed tell me anything at all. I want to go for a long walk, and whilst I want to see if these places tell me something about me, mainly I just want to see them again.

I used to do more walking and more hiking, and I think a good chunk of it is documented in this space. But I used to do more, and I have more room and space to do more but I don’t. And this is on me, really. I don’t move as much as I used to, and I have the ability to. I have the space to. But I don’t. I just hurt myself with this, really. I could do better, and indeed I will keep working to do better. Always do, always try. Right now, I don’t know.

Well mainly because it’s a day of work and I’ve other things to take care of, but you know.

But you need to give yourself space to relax. Relaxing is a good use of time, but everything needs to be in moderation. Too much of anything can be bad, and it depends on how much is too much of course, but you have to be careful. You don’t have to always be aware; you just have to be careful. You have to strike a balance. Keep things going and staying in harmony with each other. That sort of thing.

I’m going to start walking more again. Sure, I’m powering through a lot at the moment, but there’s nothing stopping me from stretching my legs more often than I do. But I’m going to keep going and working toward whatever and whenever, and get back to how I once was. I’ve been living without  enough respect for myself for too long, and I need to start taking better care of myself sooner rather than alter. This sort of fog that I’ve been in is something I feel I may have willingly embraced, though I’m not entirely sure. It’s a difficult thing to think about, and I’m thinking about it. I’m thinking about it and wondering. Thinking big things.

Before all that, however, I might just go to a park. A park I haven’t been to in a long time, and walk around and see what’s about. See who is there, see people enjoying themselves. Give my brain a bit of a rest. That’d be nice. Probably won’t, but I want to believe I will. Makes me feel better about everything and all of that and a bit of the other. Helps me feel better about things, at the least.

There’s such a lovely world out there, and it’s a nice day outside today. And things keep going and life changes, and time passes. And we need to make the most of what we can and where we can and I’m just repeating myself, as though that’s anything out of the ordinary. But things keep going. Things change, people get older and we do our best in a cold world to live a little better. To try and leave things better than they were when we were growing up.

And we try to look after ourselves, too. Try to be healthy. Do what we can where we can, and do our best to not push things too hard and too far. We owe ourselves our health, and we owe ourselves an obligation to maintain it. And… well yeah.

What else is there to say? I’m thinking about the steps that I’ll take between now and the next ten days, and I’m thinking about where I’ll go after all of this. I’ll be able to relax and sleep, and sleep some more. I’ll be able to take it easy, but there still are a lot of steps and that’s good, because I’m always moving to the next step, and then I’m always on the first of the rest. And it keeps going, and we keep working on ourselves, and I’ll walk through some familiar spaces again.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 13:08:89

Decent speed and there’s some stuff in here that I quite like. Could be better overall, but I’m not complaining.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 276: Wait for Nothing

Posted on April 7, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

So I’m currently waiting for someone to come around to grab something so then I can head on out, and they’re late. No real biggie. It happens. No given time for when they’re going to get here, however, and I do have stuff to do.

It’s annoying. It’s frustrating. It’s all of these things that I want to say so as to be able to get to saying other things. It hurts the glands and I’ve had glandular fever before, and let me tell you, that was not a fun experience. But this hurts the glands and I am annoyed and frustrated and all of those other things that help get across the sense of annoyance and frustration and… yeah.

Can’t do much other than kill time and so killing time is what I am doing. I am doing my best t9o kill time in the most inefficient way I can imagine, and I’m imagining horribly. I’m imagining terribly. It is the way this all goes, sometimes, however, and so on and so forth and here is some more space wasted in order to get to the thing or whatever.

I really am running out of steam.

I’m racing. I’m racing hard. I’m racing across spaces and expanses, and I’m racing against myself. I am thinking about what it is that I need to compile and compose, and I’m thinking about how to get from here to there, and from there to here. How do I get this bit of writing done in a way that is as satisfying as it is interesting? Is there anything interesting that can be said and can it be said in a way that ensures that it is interesting?

What I’m really saying, however, is that the wait is frustrating me and I don’t know what to do. It’s one of those situations where I know that there are things that I can do, but I’m concerned about starting and getting into a good rhythm, only to have it interrupted, thus causing me to not have the whatever it is that I need ti keep the flow going, and thus starting up again and that’s never fun.

It feels like a long wait. A wait for nothing. A wait for something but really nothing at all, and little is changing. Sure, the time of day is changing. The heat outside is changing. The stages of the week are moving from to the next, and the air in here is changing, but I feel like I am in a stilled space. A space that does not reflect much of anything other than itself, or rather a life that wants some sort of ideal state, but cannot get there. Could be many reasons as to why, and it’s likely due to trying to bring back what cannot be.

So I’m sitting here, waiting, waiting some more, and waiting forever and a day. I’m waiting with all of my heart and I’m trying to fill the cracks and find the time, only to see it slip away so easily, as it always has. It always has and it always does, and that’s the way it goes, sometimes. That’s the way it always goes.

I’m wondering as to how much of my life I have spent waiting for things to happen. I’m wondering as to how much of my life I’ve just spent waiting. Is my life on hold? Am I just here, stuck in some perpetual cycle of nothing happening? Is everything that has come across my desk not actually mine, but rather someone else’s? I don’t know. Do I even belong to my own life? IS this a question worth asking?

I think it is good to ask questions. Habitually, it helps us better understand things, but sometimes I think it’s good to ask why we’re asking something. Not always, but sometimes. Sometimes you have to let a question go deep and pointless, and you have to let it sit within you and tear you up, but you can’t let it tear you up too much. You still have to make sure you’ve time to look after yourself and going too far can prevent that.

So I’m asking questions about waiting and I’m asking questions about what I’ve done with my bedroom setup, and I’m wondering if I’m trying to give myself some sort of comfort in familiarity when the familiarity I want is not the familiarity I have, and so the questions just keep coming and nothing changes and so here I am, waiting and waiting and waiting for another bit of time to flutter on past, to go past my nose and drift away as it is subsumed back into the the great body of which it was always a part, and so everything continues and nothing changes, but changes continues and it’s all going on eternally, and I’m watching the light change. It changes from bright to dull and a little darkened, and it’s all sorts of pleasant. I see it through a window and I see my life slipping away, fading out of view. I don’t know what I can offer myself at this point, and this wait is starting to get to me in ways I’d hoped it wouldn’t, but that’s the way that life happens sometimes. You can’t do much to change it, and really I am not being left behind. Really, my life isn’t slipping away. I’m just here, waiting and the waiting is getting to me so I’m trying to eat time.

Still, it has been a pleasant day thus far, and there’s still a bit of time to go, and that’s all nice. That, being the day itself. Sometimes waiting is frustrating, but it can be pleasant. I just wish I wasn’t so concerned about getting into a groove and getting things done. It makes it difficult to wait when there are delays, but that’s life. That’s part of waiting for things, and it’s not so bad.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 12:22:14

Decent speed. Very much a mess, but a decent speed. I do like where this went, but I feel I may have been hesitant and veered away from exploring.

Written at home.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 275: Writing Writing Writing

Posted on April 7, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

I feel like I should keep going this morning. I feel like I’m at the start of a roll and so the rolling is now what will happen. Today is now all about rolling and in saying that, it will remain as such until I change my mind. Expect my mind to change, as they say, but there’s no money in there at the moment so you’ll need to spare some if I am to engage in this sort of silliness.

I’m also trying to et more done before I head out as I need to head out shortly, and so… writing writing writing writing writing writing and that’s not fun to write over and over again, let me tell you.

But I’m rolling. I am on the ground rolling and now I know how it feels to be rolling around and going here and there, and avoiding making a Bob Dylan reference as that would be too easy and obvious and all that stuff. Don’t want to give everything away now. Need to keep some secrets secret, or so they say, or some similar nonsense. But you know, it is what it is and I sit here and I keep rolling on the ground, therefore not actually sitting here. It’s the way it ways and the go it goes, and it will keep on going until I finally realise that I don’t need to say all of this. Could say other things, really. Plenty of things to say out there that aren’t about things that I’ve said before. However, I’m not a geothermal geneticist, so I can’t comment on that.

I can’t comment on being an astronaut, either. Nor being a doctor or a proctologist, specifically a proctologist, nor a baker, surreal dancer… I like dancing though and it’s a powerful form of expression.

So what can I comment on? I can’t even comment on rolling, really, as I get dizzy far too easily and, to be quite honest, I don’t enjoy being dizzy. I’m sure there are some people out there who do, but that’s not my thing. Perhaps I should speak to them and explore the scene and find out what it takes to be a professional roller. I could learn a lot. I could also learn nothing.

I could be hoodwinked. I could be hornswalggled by the masses. Then I could produce something that isn’t informative, and where would that leave me? I’d have face on my face and egg on my egg. Might be delicious, of course, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make. The point I’m trying to make is about something or something else, and if I know better (I don’t), then I know worse, and I should know how to guide around these trying times and find my way through quiet days where dreaming is the best of the best, and nothing is worse than the best worst that ever couldn’t.

Yep. Returning to senselessness.

But soon I must take off and head off to go speak to a medical professional, and I can’t comment on their line of work beyond my being an occasionally participant, and so therefore I won’t. It would be rather silly, and not the kind of silliness I like to engage in these days. There are other, far more important things to cover and there’s a lot of time and not much time at the same time, so therefore I need to think more about what I am putting forward. I need to maximise time and cut incisively and then go from there. I need to find where the threads are all leading and I need to get on with my day, too. Need to wake up a bit more also too. Too much throwing words together and not enough placing them to ensure that structural integrity is maintained. I’m not doing the best of jobs, but that’s okay. I don’t necessarily mind at this particular juncture in time. However, give it a few hours and I’ll be complaining. I’ll be crying internally and then I’ll rethink my life and go read about something that doesn’t interest me as that would be a lot easier than admitting that, perhaps, I made a mistake.

And what mistake is it that I would need to admit to? Why, the promotion of eternal inefficiency and bloat in order to write words “just because”. There are far better things that I could be doing with my time and the same could be said for my time doing things with me. It’s a crossroads of eternities and there is no reaching or leaving them. Perhaps, then, I should just reconsider the whole thing. Find out what I am going on about and go on about it in a different way. A better way. Look for the smoothness, reach the ridges, get to where I was always planning on going which involves driving across some sort of landscape that seems nice and pleasant and all of those other things that I can say that sound good in the moment. They don’t feel good right now, but they sound good, and sound is what I’m good at producing. Sound and a lot of crap, and there certainly is a lot of crap that needs to be written out before I can properly announce that I haven’t written enough crap.

Sometimes I do wonder as to what my contribution to The Internet is, and in what way it’s had an impact, if any. I do have genuine concerns about wielding words irresponsibly, and I don’t think enough people think about this. There are so many ways something can go bad fast, even if your intentions are good, and I think about this sometimes but I continue to write absolute crap. It’s a strange space to be in. I can stop, but I don’t. I just keep churning, so I should think more about what I’m doing and actually put that thinking into practice.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 11:27:41

I had warmed up well when I started this. I should’ve kept going when I got back home from seeing my gp.

Written at home.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 274: Another Morning Ramble

Posted on April 7, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

It’s morning once again. Funny how that keeps happening. Would like a brief respite from it, but that’s not happening, so instead I’m just gonna cram. Try and make up for yesterday, get all that stuff done and out of the way and then move on to wherever and whenever and whatever else it is that that singer sings. I don’t know; I’m just a person who doesn’t always pay attention, and perhaps attention is what I need to pay more of. If I don’t, I could end up paying other things and I’d much rather not. So yeah.

My gut isn’t happy this morning and that’s okay. It’ll be happy soon. I will make it happy by trying to treat it a little better than I have over the past few days. I’ll get through it all. I’ll survive. I’ll be okay and fine and all of those other things. And those things of otherness are what I will and will not on a hot and shiny day, and this is where I start going off the rails. However, I must relent for now, for I have a lot of day to cross through. I have a bit of time to pass and so in holding off I can go off the rails later.

It feels a little odd having the sun rise around an hour earlier at the moment. This is something I’ve gotten used to over the years. The changing in daylight savings is just part of my life, but this morning it feels odd and I don’t know why. I can’t explain it. It just does. I know I’ll survive, but… you know.

So where does that leave me now? I’m here, feeling odd about the amount of light at this particular time being different to what I’m used to and I’m just sitting here, writing about it and soon other things and it doesn’t matter so much anyway. There are other, more important things to worry about. There’s staying on task and getting through the morning and then getting through the day to worry about. There’s the music that I’ll be listening to to worry about. There’s getting through the day to worry about. There’s worrying to worry about, and don’t get me started on the repetition of it all.

And so, with a certain dullness I guess I’m just going to throw whatever into the next few paragraphs and hope for the best. It’s failed me before and I’m sure that it will keep on failing me, so therefore all I can do is keep on allowing it to fail me so that I can do whatever and yeah and so on and so forth and you get the idea.

Now I have to wonder about why I am continuing at this point. There’s somewhere around ten days left and then that’ll be that, and I’m still here, writing away. Still writing nonsense, and it’s fun, don’t get me wrong, but I could drop everything right now and I’d be okay.

Why am I like this? Why do I persist beyond what is reasonable? This is incredibly unreasonable. It’s unseasonable. It’s ridiculous and I keep on going. I go well beyond what is necessary, and then I go some more. I don’t stop and I need to stop at some point. I need to give myself some time to relax and take it easy, and I know that comes soon but I’m not allowing it. I’m not giving myself the space to breathe and I know that that’s the likely reason as to why I keep hitting these walls. Why I keep getting stuck and just churning out trash, but I’ve accepted my lot in life. I’ve accepted my fate. I keep going and I keep dragging out all the words and treating them without the respect they deserve, so I only have myself to blame at the end of the day. I only have these issues Due to my own impressive action through inaction, because I’ve chosen to take inaction which, in this particular instance, feels like an action of sorts to me.

But now I need to fill the rest of this space and try and work out something poignant. Something that touches the soul and reaches out and spreads further and further and moves away from me and then into you. Throwing words together in a way that appears to form sentences is great and all, but they should make sense. They should feel like they have context, unless that’s not the aim, in which case… yeah. You do the thing that you feel you need to do and I’ll keep doing the thing that I feel I need to do. We’ll go in circles and find the squares, and then the triangles will descend in order to mediate the foolishness of it all, and it will be foolish, trust me. Need to make sure it’s all foolish and plenty of foolishness. And then I will know where to go from there.

And clearly I’m trying to stretch this out without much to go on, and perhaps that’s okay. I seem to do better writing so long as I keep going. So long as I shake off the morning cobwebs and keep powering on, I’;m usually okay to do the things and all those other things. Therefore, whilst I’m still going to share this, it’s best to treat as just warming up and little else. It can be quite a lot, of course, but it’s not. But it does offer a base to work from and working from this base is what I will be doing today, unless I don’t do that, in which case… well, I’ve no idea, really. I’m just churning and churning is what I’m doing. And I’m yearning to find the right words in the right form in order to get across everything that I want to in a compressed fashion, but that ship has probably sailed.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 10:47:06

Not the best, not the worst. Still bad writing.

Written at home.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 273: An Easy Day

Posted on April 6, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

What a day. What a day it has been.

So shortly after getting the previous rambling up, I left my place. I was heading to a café where one of my favorite baristas work. Was going to catch the bus, decided to walk there instead.

Normally public transport would be fine, but in this particular instance I was able to do the walk in less time than it would have taken to wait for the bus, then walk from the bus stop. It was a walk slightly over forty minutes, too. Normally fifteen minutes to drive there, too. At most.

It was a nice enough walk. Good tunes playing, pleasant temperature, all those things. And it was quiet, too, which was also appreciable. Just a nice, quiet and easy walk.

I walked through Campsie and went past a place there a bunch of people I used to know lived at one point. This is going back years ago, and I spent a bit of time there. Probably not as much as I think I may have, but it was enough. It looked mostly the same, just a little bit older. A little bit more worn out. I’d been past the place a good few times over the years, and this time it was more just a place I had been to a few times than it was anything else, and I could appreciate that. I could appreciate it not being much of anything to me, but those memories will come back at some point, I imagine.

What affected me was walking past Cooks River. I saw the pathway that runs along it, and whilst I still live near the river, it’s not the same. I realised I missed the area of Croydon Park that I was walking through, and I missed being able to walk that bit of the river freely. Where I am now, it’s fine. It’s nice. It’s not the same. Never is, really.

But I thought about the space, and I remember during lockdown walking along there and seeing more birds out than I previously had, and it was quite wonderful to witness. It was incredibly pleasant. And the space was pleasant at almost any given time, anyway. A breeze blowing through felt better than in other areas, somehow.

But I found myself missing it heavily, and wanting to be back there, freely. Be back there with a person I no longer know, walking along, taking it all in. Appreciating the space for what it is and appreciating that time I’d have with them, and the only aim is to just head to a point and head back, and take it easy. Take it all in and be at ease in life, because that’s about all that would need to be done, walking along there, seeing some other people. Walking along and hearing birds and seeing some, and enjoying life as it is. It’d be wonderful. But things change, and the areas we leave are images we remember. They’re not the same when we return.

And so I got to the café and spoke with the barista a bit, and then I walked back, once again doing the walk faster than I would have if I waited for the bus. A bus I could’ve caught did go past at one point, but I still managed to get back to where I live faster than if waiting for the bus I was “meant” to wait for.

The walk back was as uneventful as the walk there. Nothing too interesting. Not many people around still. Just an easy walk back to where I live, albeit a rather sweaty one. I was pretty wrecked by the time it was all over, and then I head to head out once more, this time to look at a vehicle, and that was less eventful than the walk. Less draining, too, which was fine by me. I prefer to be less, rather than more drained. Not sure why I’d want to be feeling things more when I can be feelings things less, though I’m feeling the drain quite heavily right now. The way it goes and all that, really. And now I sit here, going on about nothing, trying to stave off fatigue for a little bit longer so I can try and make sure the day hasn’t been a waste of sorts.

That walk took it out of me, but it was necessary, I think. I’m feeling it. I’m feeling exhausted. I need more exercise. I’ve let myself go a bit too much, so it’s time to get back into the swing of things. Just get back into being fit and staying fit. And healthy. Need to stay healthy, too. Need to try, at least. Doing an absolutely awful job of that at the moment, but I will keep trying.

I need to probably stop thinking about the past so much, too. What was was, and I’m still here. I’m still alive, trying to get on with the getting on. Trying to keep my head above water. Trying to not slip into some sort of obsolescence. Just need to keep going and not think of times that perhaps I consider as being better than where I currently am. Just need to keep on going.

And so, what else is there to say? I was hoping to get a bit more out of talking about walking, but  maybe I should’ve written this earlier in the day. Had I done so, I imagine I would’ve gotten a better result. But sometimes these things happen. Sometimes you think you’re gonna get something done and then you don’t, and when you get to it the moment has passed. There are worse things in the world, really. This is okay. The day was good, it started well. There was some sadness and a good deal of joy, and now I’m here, taking it easy. And soon I will be asleep, potentially dreaming up some sort of experience.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 16:54:78

Bit slow and the writing is quite lacking.

Written at home.

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