Just a bit of The Old Hume Highway.
I drove this bit without realising, and I don’t recognise it, though it had been decades since I was last on The Old Hume, and it looked a bit different to this.
This road gave a lot of towns a business, and it still speaks of history and culture. It’s sad that it no longer what it was, but things change.
I hope you Enjoy.
Got back from my trip a few hours ago. Am wrecked. Got some processing to do, and a draft to start, which will be one of the last things here. Tomorrow things pick back up.
Here’s a photo of yesterday’s sunrise. It was… quietly dramatic, is a way of putting it.
Due to how massive the sun looked and how unobscured it was, it was actually quite difficult to get a balanced amount of light with the gear that I had with me. A VND filter would’ve worked wonders. Alas.
I hope you enjoy.
It’s night and I’m currently sitting in my car in Cooma. About to go into a receptionless area to sleep for the night. Was hoping to be there much earlier, but I like to dawdle, it seems.
I was hoping that I’d have something to say about the drive thus far, but right now I have nothing. It has been a long drive, and an emotional one. I’m looking forward to sharing the journey, but it might be a few days. We’ll see.
There are a lot of long roads, and plenty worth travelling if you’re willing to give them the time.
This has nothing to do with the photo below, of course, but I felt it important to say something.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
Just some coffee grounds suspended in water.
I hope you enjoy.
Slowly getting to the end of my photos. Would be writing more, but fatigue and all that.
I saw this tree in December, and it’s also in one of the other recently-shared photos. There were some humps of dry grass and this tree without others that were visible. Was interesting to me.
I hope you enjoy.
More terns.
I prefer the previous photo, but I still like this one. I think it has a nice bit of space to it. There’s a nice sense of size to the group. Still small, bit feels big.
I hope you enjoy.
Terns I saw toward the end of last year. There were more of them than this photo shows, but I liked this little group in particular.
I hope you enjoy.
I was hoping that I’d have the blog wrapped up by today at the absolute latest, but still have a few things to get through. Might be a slow few days, however.
Here’s a photo of a musician moving on stage. Photo sort of captures how vigorously they were moving.
I hope you enjoy.
One listen.
A bit surprised I got so much out of the song. I don’t know why, it makes sense, but I’m surprised. I’m not sure how well what I wrote covers the song, however.
Ryuichi Sakimoto’s (坂本 龍一) “Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence” is from Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence, the soundtrack for Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence. The previous song I wrote about, “Forbidden Colours”, is a vocal version of this song that Ryuichi Sakimoto recorded, and I think it’s interesting how – at least instrumentally – these two versions have a similar and different feel.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
—
Floating, shimmering, and slight slides of sound. Brightness and sound forming in, forming onward, carrying a melancholy, a sadness. Or a beauty and appreciation for life, or all and nothing.
Suddenly it all comes into view. Into framing. Percussion strong, punchy, and more percussion creating a melody, stepping around whilst other sound there haunts, almost. Trying to come into reality. Trying to come into a tangible shape.
It plays out, plays out with a weight, with a lightness. With formality and acceptance, and then something rises and and starts wobbling underneath, pushing the sounds up, almost. Lifting them above itself.
Back to the main melody and it’s all sorts of spaced and angular, and perhaps ornate in a rather simple way, so to speak. It has elegance and weariness, and it has so many things happening in it. And it continues with its walk, and soon something gets up. It gets up and it moves slowly, steadily, and walks forward to a light. It pulses in a darkness, pulsing not quite rapidly, but nearly there.
A slight stumble here and there, but it keeps going. Defiant, moving forward, moving toward, moving closer, looking, feeling a joy in it all, almost. Or perhaps it is feeling an inevitability, unable to escape cycles, unable to escape continues pain, unwilling to deny, unwilling to reject. Unwilling to resist.
Everything moves toward a conclusion, either terrible or joyous, and then a strike. A strike, a movement, an action taken, and everything fades out before the conclusion is wholly revealed, and the song ends.
One Listen.
Been meaning to cover this song for a while, just got to it now. Didn’t quite do it justice. Started getting a bit more into the zone toward the end, but it wasn’t soon enough. Ah well.
David Sylvian’s “Forbidden Colours” is a bonus track from the cd release of Secrets of the Beehive.
I hope you enjoy.
—
Keys rise in a silent space. All attention is on them as they play a mystery before brushing a little and creating deeper melody. And soon they are joined by other sounds, and they retract a little from the scene.
Something is now floating, floating gently, and the main melody is forming. Voice starts floating along too, adding its own bit of melody. And when it pulls away percussion comes in and the keys are prominent once more. Playing a steady flow, playing a steady drift.
The keys cede space for the vocals; the percussion remains steady, and there’s something about the sounds coming together in the way they do that makes them feel wrought with emotion.
A rising up, a stress of sorts. Stress and tension before relaxing once more. Almost like a body heaving and relaxing. And it relaxes, and everything flows along, gradually, steadily. And eventually strings take over a little, and they’re almost percussive, or implying percussion. They take the space, and soon the vocals return once more, lowering, rising, gliding along, but held close to the chest. Held close to the heart they come from.
This sort of dance in a quietened, darkened space, calling out, wrought with emotion… this thing continues on, almost lonely, or perhaps it’s self-knowing. Perhaps that’s the best way to describe it, as it all comes to a point.
When reaching that point the sounds roll and rumble with drama, with comfort, with open tears and expression, and loneliness, disappearing in anguish, wrapping in layers of soothing, of relation, and falling away as the song ends.
Stupidity Hole 