The Stranger: The Wind Is Blowing Cold Across The Moor

One listen for this one.

I think I was just looking to describe the song here. Didn’t say much.

The Stranger’s “The Wind Is Blowing Cold Across The Moor” is from The Stranger.

I hope you enjoy.

Dry and hollow droning seems to gradually rise, then pause and start again. Something else finds itself in the movement and it seems more mechanical, though perhaps that is an illusion.

During the next pause a brief hum and the sounds rise again, and something appears among the noise. It is some sort of imagery but it is difficult to work out what it is, or if it is anything at all.

Eventually a low rumbling appears. It is masked but it is there. It too is not the clearest and perhaps that suggests some sort of apprehension to the unknown. It likely is nothing other than the shape of land, but not knowing can often lead to hesitation.

For a moment the sounds lower and a bit more is revealed, and it remains a low rumbling, though in a much smoother form. Noise floats around as the rumbling takes a central focus, and the rumbling grows louder, or at least more prominent. It hums out an eeriness as the noise seemingly picks up.

Something that sounds like the remnant of a voice becomes part of the noise and sound twists and becomes harsh, and the rumbling continues, and all is of a calm harshness.

Eventually all lower a little and suddenly the song ends.


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Skull Flowers

Last week I’d planned to take some photos using a bike torch as a light source. I’m still going to take those photos but that was postponed to take a photo of this skull vase with flowers.

I went in with two specific ideas for framing. When I was taking the photos I tried a few photos  with the below framing, and I think this particular one turned out really well.

I think the light balance and level of detail works in favour for skull and flowers as well as their reflection. I also think the shadow works with the sense of distance. It’s there; it’s apparent and even though it seems far it remains close.

This is my submission into the two hundred-and-thirty-fifth Lens-Artists Photo Challenge. The theme for this one is “Shadows & Reflections in Monochrome”.

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

Week 1 – Tina

Week 2 – Patti

Week 3 – Ann-Christine aka Leya

Week 4 – Amy

Week 5 – John Steiner

Week 6 – Sofia Alves

Week 7 – Anne Sandler

Week 8 – Guest host

Donna of Wind Kisses joined the Lens-artists team this year. It will be good to see how we can interpret her challenges.

Patti is curating this one. The next one is curated by Amy.

I recommend participating in the challenges. They’re open enough to allow for a fair bit of thinking about approach and closed enough to keep focus on meeting the theme of each one. If you don’t participate, you should still check out what others of the Lens-Artists community are submitting.

I hope you enjoy.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1219: Combining Self at Excessive Speed

I let the day get away from me once more. Not a good move, but now were’ here and soon I will be getting ready to head on out. I’ll just listen to whatever I want to listen to right now and that’s fine. It’s what I do most of the time anyway, and so… yeah.

The hours are ticking away so I need to grab onto what I can. Need to accelerate and become a speeding blur of something so fast that there is no telling what it is that I am. In this I will lose all sense of identity and perhaps a sense of self to go along with that. I will no longer be what I think I am (though there is always a good chance that I am not what I think I am anyway, but that’s neither here nor there) which will lead to becoming something else entirely.

Of course what I think I am and what others perceive me to be could be two very different things and so I might lose my sense of self and discover something new, but as others see this thing going right past them at a speed that seems impossible to move at, what I am to them will likely appear to be something entirely different.

What if I remain as myself but think I become something else entirely. What if I lose what I am even though it is right there with me throughout this whole ordeal? Perhaps some sort of new definition will be born if I somehow come to an understanding that my self was always there and never lost; I just lost sight of it.

This would occur after an indeterminate amount of time, of course. It couldn’t happen immediately as if that did happen then there would be no journey of discovery and transformation of perspective and that wouldn’t be as fun. Gotta keep the fun in there somehow. No fun, no journey.

Does the journey have to be fun? It could be entirely boring, dull, insipid. It could be entirely unpleasant, and that’s all okay as it is about what is gained from the whole thing rather than just having fun. The outcome could be one of failure, but even in failure there can still be something gained. Depends on the failure, really.

So anyway the new sense of self would combine with the old sense of self, or at least that is what I’d hope. I’d rather congealing rather than conflict and so in these suddenly a past that was always present becomes fully realised as present and two forms of the present merge into one and a new whole comes forth. It would be one that recognises both and sees them in cooperation for a better tomorrow and that would be just neat.

Of course, however, others would still have their own perception of what I am and that wouldn’t stop until I slow down to an acceptable speed.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:34:75

Not a bad speed. A bit of messiness here, but overall I think I get something across, even if it is not much.

As a side note, this was going to be titled “Understanding at Excessive Speed”, but I felt that would be a better title for something else that that title inspired as I wrote it, so I’m saving it for later.

Written at home.

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Susumu Yokota: Azukiiro No Kaori

This was written over two listens.

I queued this up tow rite about a while ago and didn’t get around to doing so until now. I planned to last night but something else took precedence and so I didn’t. I don’t know if the wait had any impact, but I like the result here. I feel it would’ve been better to try and interweave the song’s sense of smallness, as well as its sense of isolation, but I think that overall I described the song well enough.

Susumu Yokota’s “Azukiiro No Kaori” is from Sakura.

I hope you enjoy.

Beeping and stretching, and soon something else hums into existence. It strikes, stretches, then flickers and as the beeping continues as though a steady anchor. They rise in their prominence and soon find themselves joined by voices of a a crowd, perhaps joyous whilst also unaware of itself.

The voices seem almost disconnected and cutting into existence and harmonies with a prettiness whilst the beeping and strike continue with their pattern, though eventually the beeping stops. Its exit is not noticed and its disappearance eventually is.

For a brief moment another beeping comes in with urgency, though it does not last long and soon disappears. Perhaps it is the first one announcing its departure; perhaps it is one that was meant to join earlier but had to leave at this point and so rushes past.

A tapestry of stillness is weaved through the sounds’ motions as they orbit each other. Their motions are smooth and peaceful, and they look inward whilst avoid pressing.

Eventually the voices fade, leaving the strike to continue on for a few moments before finding a place to stop as the song ends.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1218: Walking Down the Street

Alright, so seeing as I dropped the ball on the earlier attempt it’s time to do another attempt for today. I don’t want to as I’m in that state of laziness that requires a lot of energy to do very little, but here we are and so here I am.

It feels a little weird getting something done so far away from going to sleep, but it’s nice. It feels good in a sense, but I shouldn’t be congratulating myself just yet as there still is plenty of time to stop and procrastinate and stretch things out to an unbearable degree. If this happens, then it is what happens but this is something I don’t want to do, unless I do, in which case I do want to do this and… yeah.

Where was I?

So I was walking down the street in the way that most people do and I noticed that I wasn’t actually walking down the street. It was at that moment that I further realised that the street was walking down me… then up me. I was being trampled by that which I was meant to be trampling, as ordained by divine right.

I was not going to stand for this mostly due to it being very difficult to stand when a street is walking all over you. As such, I decided to call out to it and kindly request that it stop, but this did not work and so I had to deal with this.

Now the thing with streets walking all over you (ort at least in this instance) is that they take their sweet time and then extend that by quite a lot more time. As such it took a while and I had to wait. I could not read for I had no book with me and I could not listen to music as I had nothing on me which would allow my ears to be treated to the sweet nectar of sound. I had to stay there and wait and wait and wait some more.

The plus side to all of this is that it gave me a lot of time to think about things. I was able to think about where I was going in life and how I ended up in this situation, and I thought about these two things for quite a while. Unfortunately whilst I was unable to come to an answer for the former, I realised that with the latter there was no explanation as to why it was happening to me.

From there I realised that the universe has a chaotic nature and its inertia is powered by reaction to happenstance. A series of events with no rhyme nor reason, or at least none that I could discern within the limitations of my human brain.

Eventually this stopped and so I got up, dusted myself off and waited for the next breeze to arrive so I could float home as a cruel mockery of birds.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:42:03

Silliness abound here but I think it works. This feels around the right length, covers nothing and carries no worthwhile meaning. Overall for now I’m happy with this.

Written at home.

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Rambling Through a Desert

This was done as a five-hundred word challenge.
Forgot to log the time before I put it here.

Oh well.

I hope you enjoy.

Alright, time to get to it. Time to make the most of the day and turn it into a ball, or a series of shapes…

Wait; not going there again.

I see a breeze and I keep a window closed. Clouds sit above and seem to make things look more intense, but I’m not entirely sure. It could just be the fatigue holding me firmly within its ironclad grasp. It could be many things.

This day will be created from a series of thoughts and suggestions from the self to the self and in that I will find the answers that I seek, but there are no answers that I seek for what I am doing is just trying to make it to the end of the day before I fall asleep. There isn’t much to do and it all stretches out and becomes beyond reach so I drag myself along even though I could just quickly walk and I feel the sun beat down upon my back.

There is no sweat but I am perspiring and all that is coming out is heavy weight that keeps attaching itself to me unless I decide to return to bed, in which case it will all disappear. Problem is I cannot return to bed as I am required to sit here and wait for things to happen so I can leap into action, so I keep on walking and I keep feeling the drag but I will get there. I need to get there and topple all of this so I can be free for all of a few minutes before I need to get on with the getting on once more.

Actually I think I’ll just stick with the struggling. Rather walk through the desert getting increasingly heavy due to the amount of weight adding an increasing amount of drag which I then have to battle so as to be able to keep on going. Heading over sand, get a bit of drag. Heading over something smooth, get a bit of drag. Get a good bit of momentum going downhill, get a bit of drag.

It’s all a drag.

I wonder if there will be water, or maybe some ice in which I could just skate over for a while. Having not skated on ice before I’m sure I’ll get it right the first time around and there will be no issues to worry about. Of course I could not have this happen and instead be forced to face the challenge of the wind picking up sand and blowing it all over the place, and sand gets everywhere which leads to a lot of discomfort, let me tell you. There was this one time where I went bushwalking and went to a beach and ended up with sand in my socks despite my thinking I got rid of it all, and my feet felt salty and I had to walk back to the station in discomfort.

It was not much fun.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 201: A Rest at a Beach

There was a strong sense of relief once the beach was seen.

The beach was a quiet one. It usually didn’t see many people on account of the best path not being the one that ran by it, and even then, those who saw the beach mostly walked past. For most trips there generally were far better places to stop. In this particular instance the trip was lengthy and had already crossed a few islands. On one of the more remote islands of a trip as long as this one meant the beach became a good place to rest.

There were a few alcoves along the beach that allowed for easy shelter and the area seemed safe enough; at least they hadn’t heard of anyone having to worry about defending themselves, or disappearing, or suffering from some sort of injury that would be more common in that particular area.

They followed the narrow path down to the beach, weaving their way around trees and rocky outcrops and the beach grew larger as it was approached. It had a fine sand and a moderate slope, and it seemed to stretch a while before it met the ocean. On this particular day the surf was strong, but it didn’t seem dangerous. Toward the back of the beach vegetation grew over the sand, stabilising it more and more, and there was a nice view looking inland obscured by some cliff at one of the beach’s ends.

It was quite idyllic and it was quite isolated.

They eventually reached the beach and made their way to one of the alcoves. Carefully they took off their pack which was much lighter now than when they had left home, and they began to set up for the evening. The alcove’s floor was rocky, thankfully due to being part of a rock platform, and from where they were it seemed like they wouldn’t have much trouble with large waves, or waves of any size for that matter.

As they set up they listened out for anything other than sounds of the beach. They had a good view of it from where they were but they could see no one and they could hear nothing other than what they’d usually hear at a place like this. It helped continue the sense of solitude they’d had for the past week or so. Sure, they had seen various creatures around and they were certain they’d see some more where they now were, but they didn’t seem to impede or press into what they were feeling.

After setting up they went looking for some dry wood lying around. They wanted to boil water and have something to drink and eat something that wasn’t more food fine to eat uncooked, but much better cooked. The previous places they had stayed hadn’t had room to safely start a fire and they were fairly certain that it would be at least another few days until they reached another town, though possibly it would be another week or so; they were on the path that took more time and was often considered less safe. There were a few more bridges they’d need to cross on this island, as well as some to get across the next few. They didn’t want to have to wait for a hot meal at this point, even if it was relatively not that far away.

Eventually they found some broken branches and a good log and they seemed dry enough so they returned to the alcove and got to work. It was not long before they had their billy set up with enough water in it for tea and cooking a small portion of the remaining food they had. They considered going to catch something but they decided against doing so. They were staying only for the rest of the day and the night, and they felt it better to spend less time in the sun, just in case.

As they waited for the water to boil they consulted their map and saw that they were roughly on time. It was still quite a while before they’d reach the city – about a month at the rate they were going – but there were at least a few villages on the way. Maybe they’d take transport when they reached on, reduce the travel time, though they felt that may be too risky. Besides which, there were things along the islands that they wanted to see and going by boat, or even by cart made that much more difficult.

Eventually evening arrived and rain began to beat down on the area. They could see the violence as it drowned everything out; eventually combined with the dark the view itself was mostly smothered. Wind hit the alcove and so, already preparing to in case of unwanted attention, they put the fire out. Not having a light source to use to read or draw, they gradually fell asleep to the sound of the rain, wind and waves heaving and thrashing throughout the dark.

They woke before first light and, despite having had to have slept on thin bedding on a rocky surface, felt well-rested. Perhaps it was their getting used to having to sleep on whatever surface they could. Perhaps it was just fatigue catching up at the right moment.

They started a fire and began boiling water, and drank and ate as they watched the dark and listened to the waves gently lap at the platform’s edge. Eventually first light appeared and they’d soon have to pack up and continue, but they took their time staring out, trying to work things out.

Soon after first light a robed figure appeared somewhere distant along the beach. The figure looked to the waves, then walked toward them. As the figure approached they sat there, unsure as to what to do but kept a knife ready. The figure waved and so they cautiously waved back, and it was not long before the figure was at the alcove.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 34:32:23

Really slow. Much slower than I’d hoped. Realised what I’d written would need to spill into a second thing, then realised that it was due to too much bloat.

Coming back to the worldbuilding thing I’m slowly working on, trying to thread in a bit more narrative. This doesn’t cover much, but I’m filling in bits and pieces. A lot of this is going to be set over a large series of islands, many of which are close enough to reach by crossing bridges. There’s likely to be many small towns / villages rather than large cities, though I want there to be one large city, perhaps as a connecting hub of sorts.

Here are the other rushed bits of writing I’ve done for this thing.

Written at home.

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Hat Hill

Not the best photo of this hill but I think it worked out, at least in terms of framing.

This is Hat Hill. I don’t know why this is hill is known as Hat Hill, though I’m sure I’ll find out at a later point in time when I go back here to take more photos.

There’s something idyllic about this view. It may have to do with the clouds. Not sure.

I hope you enjoy.

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A Poem About Trying to Force Something Out

This is pretty  much as it is.
I was trying to think of something and nothing came so I wrote about trying to force something out when I’ve nothing. The result isn’t anything good, but it works.

I hope you enjoy.

I do not wish to try and force
And so I push and force some more
The nozzle does not drip
I cannot reach the pipes
But I keep on trying to get something out

There’s not a sound so I reach in
I try to pull at something
Even though I can see it in there
It remains out of reach
And I keep trying to force it out

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Jesu: Deflated

One listen for this one.

This is a song I’ve wanted to write about for a while but I feel it’s one that I wasn’t sure I could do well. I think I may have been right about that hesitation, but I imagine that I would have done better had I waited a while longer. Improvement with time and all that.

I think the issue here is that whilst I do get an idea of the song across it took a while to let go, and even then I didn’t let go enough. I think that, other than not being a strong enough writer right now, it also has to do with having strong familiarity with the song.

Jesu’s “Deflated” is from Opiate Sun. The version I wrote about is the demo version which was featured as a bonus track on the Japanese release of the EP. Personally I think the demo version is more interesting due to what was removed for the final version, but maybe that addition didn’t work beyond the demo. It’s also possible that Justin Broadrick was concerned about an overabundance of “solos” on the EP, hence the lack of additional guitar doing something above the main melody on the final version.

I hope you enjoy.

Guitar rings out whilst bass drifts low and percussion stomps. Soon vocals find their way in and seem to float among it all and melancholy finds its way in. Together all the sounds lock into each other and follow a rhythmic flow. They keep it all together through their descent and drift and move with a sense of ease.

Eventually there’s a sort of pause and additional guitar seems to move and phase above the pause. It goes up, down and up and here, there and everywhere. The other sounds have a brief pause before they look once more at descending. The new guitar stops and the descent commences.

Keys now appear as the original guitar, bass and percussion keep their steady pace. The keys highlight and accentuate and something maybe dreamy and fragile, and certainty comes forward. Soon that new guitar returns and once more it ripples and phases, and calmly howls, and everything seems to grow increasingly overwhelming.

Climactic, yet calm this is and it just envelopes all and pulls something out, and touches in a raw manner. It continues to do so, even when the percussion and new guitar pull away, leaving a few sounds to linger on until the song ends.

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