I’ve been meaning to share this photo but haven’t found the right time to share it, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself right now as the real answer is that I haven’t gotten around to sharing the photo until now.
Anyway, here’s a photo of a silver gull at sunset in the area known as La Perouse. It’s a lucky shot; the scenery is nice enough but I think the gull makes it better somehow.
I hope you enjoy.
One listen for this one.
I sort of let go, sort of thought about things. Some bits of this were easier to write than others but I think overall it works. As with a lot of things it’s highly impressionistic but I think it says a lot about the song.
Sakanatsuri’s “Into the Shade” is from Sadness Defines Your Happiness.
I hope you enjoy.
—
Quiet, quiet though growing louder. Into focus, into the present, shining , bright, endless. Cool and calm, carrying weight. There is relief but there is heaviness. Vague and specific move around each other but do not circle; they continue on, stretch and compress and remain as static as they do constantly changing.
Fragility unfolds though all is perceived as not being so and thought turns inward and grows out from there. It is a patch of respite under an overbearing sun and the ground appears cracked in places, but it also is lush and full of vegetation and this space is alive and vibrant and it changes as rapidly as it never does. It offers what it offers and in a moment all holds still and it lasts.
It offers relief and it offers joy, and it lightens the load, even if only for a held moment, and it continues on as it fades out, leaving one remaining sound to play out at the song’s end.
So one of my colleagues thinks that I cannot write all these words in under five minutes. My colleague is not aware of the length of time I’ve been doing this challenge of my own creation and so therefore he is going to be in a world of minor impressiveness, or something.
So anyway I think I can get it done and I’ve got nothing to go on and that’s my own problem, really, but I think I can get it done so long as I stick to the plan. That plan is to bang out as many words as possible in a small amount of time and I will get there so long as I keep my focus on the prize. The prize is the ending of this bit of writing and the opening of the door into the next world of writing, wherever that may lie.
So I think I can get there but in truth I have no idea. It is a lot of work and I need to go a lot faster than I already am, but perhaps if I try hard enough I will get there. So long as I try I can get there.
Already I am struggling to generate thoughts in a manner that gets me away from this little loop that I constantly ride, but I think if I can get off the loop then I will find myself on a road that leads to somewhere. There will be distance but I’ll walk away from the road as I’d rather go through the thicket. It is far less productive and far more destructive and I’ll get lost and then I’ll need to try and find my way back but I won’t be able to.
After going through the thicket for a little bit I’ll realise as to how foolish an idea that was. Then I’ll end up falling into a hole and in that hole will be a grand lake. I’ll be confused as it will throw off the perception of space, but there will be fish. I will have a rather cordial conversation with the fish and as I’m having that conversation there may or may not be a storm outside.
I’ll then realise and I’ll tell the fish that I have to go home. The fish, not understanding the human language, will approve of this decision and will bid me adieu. From there I’ll need to morph my legs into something better designed for going up a wall that has a lot of water and no traction and I’ll go up and then turn my legs back to normal and then after all of this I’ll just go back to the road.
The storm will have passed and that will be a good thing as I’d rather walk home in the dry and not in the wrt. Sometimes walking through the rain is fun, but in this particular instance it will not be, so yeah.
Anyway, that’s that little adventure.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:01:00
My colleague was still impressed.
However, I’m quite certain plenty of people could’ve done this in a much shorter time.
Written at home.
Two listens for this one.
I feel like I didn’t get much done here, though I was mainly trying to describe the song as it happened and I think I did alright there.
Spencer Nilsen’s “Heart of the Giant” is from “Ecco: Songs Of Time“, an album compiling re-recorded songs from the first two Ecco the Dolphin games.
I hope you enjoy.
—
Murmurings of a deep as gradually sound throbs into prominence. Mystery becomes apparent as woodwind moves among the sounds that are already there. It seems graceful in its motion and it draws long whilst the throbbing continues.
Soon the rhythm is scattered and many sounds are cast outward and a space is there, but they cannot be held away for long and soon the throbbing returns. Rhythm reveals itself and it continues onward with a sense of closeness, keeping space external to the procession.
Once more the sounds are cast outward and now the space is more internal due to the change in the closeness of sounds. Perhaps it is a pause for a moment of calm, or a slower descent than before. The scattering is familiar, but it seems different to the previous time.
Soon the sounds come close again and the throbbing continues onward as it fades out and the song ends.
A photo focused on part of this feature.
The droplets hang in the air and create some sort of noise whilst also expressing motion which is something I like.
This is my submission into Leanne Cole‘s “Monochrome Madness” for this week. Participating is pretty straightforward and something I recommend. If you do, then include the tag “monochrome-madness” in your post.
If not participating, then at the least check out Leanne’s photography as well as what other people submit.
A lot of what people are submitting will likely end up here.
I hope you enjoy.
And so the evening is now here and it has been a hot day and now I think of all the things that I could think of that relate to the day and try to compartmentalise them all but that doesn’t actually happen.
Today was a hot day and now it is cooling down and rain has arrived and it creates an assortment of sounds which is what I want to hear right now. There are other things that I want to hear but right now just the rain is nice; well, the rain and the music I’ve got playing but that will soon end as I will sluggishly crawl toward bed and slither under the blankets upon which I will undertake the act of passing out so as to be able to feel tired tomorrow.
Until then, however, I think of things that are here and now and I think about how I should end this. Then again, maybe I don’t but I am thinking about how to end this bit of writing, and I’ve realised that I still have quite a few words to go and so now is not the time to be thinking about how this bit of writing ends when there is so much to traverse in the way.
The rain is getting louder and it forces a cool air into the room and that too is nice. However, I wonder for how long it will be nice as eventually it won’t be that way. Eventually it will be something that will just be there and so once more it becomes part of the background constantly pressing inward but never quite getting there. There will be much to say and little said and I’ll stare out the window and wonder why for a little while, but then nothing will come of that and I’ll just get on with things. It’s the way things go and there’s little I can do about the rain and its presence.
Maybe I should be like that and instead ruminate on the rain and its qualities and what it does and does not represent but that’s not for here; not right now, anyway. Soon I need to hop under the sheets and sleep but before then I need to think about how I’m ending this bit of writing and I still have no way to conclude it and I’m at the final stretch, depending on what amount of words you consider as being the final stretch. Maybe it is yet to begin, and all of that being said I don’t know if I can even think of something good that will tie this all together, and maybe that’s just how it all goes.
Maybe we’re just running on one spot and we have all these pieces and have no idea to get them together so we try our best to make sense of it all.
Bah. I’m just going to stick to thinking about the rain falling through the night.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:53:95
I sort of got a bit lost in that writing. I had something going, wandered away, found something else. It happens.
Written at home.
It almost appears as though this silver gull has no distinction between its head and the front of its body.
I hope you enjoy.
Here’s a photo of a banksia. Vegetation grows around it and it serves as a memory of an area affected by bushfires.
This is my submission into the two hundred-and-thirty-second Lens-Artists Photo Challenge. The theme for this one is “Looking Back“.
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
This one is curated by Sofia. Anne curates the next one.
Also, Donna of Wind Kisses joins the Lens-artists team this year. It’ll be nice to see how people approach her challenges.
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.
So there’s this gentle music playing right now and occasionally it is cut into by the sound of a drill going off. It creates a contrast that wasn’t needed but it does make one think.
Anyway, now that I’m done thinking I need to think about escaping the heat but it has found me and so there is no escape from its warm and sinewy grasp, and I am a glass of milk well past its best before date among the heat’s elongated and pulsating fingers.
Oh, woe is me, for this fate upon which I have been forcibly and irrevocably thrust upon is not one of which I wanted to approach. It is quite unlike a dashing dalliance and I am not being swept off my feet. No, I am here and slowly the heat embraces all and it does so in the same way that a flower falls and decays over the same amount of time it takes for a fly to appear and disappear, depending on how long your attention is held by the fly and its incessant buzzing and that is a really annoying thing.
Sometimes I just want the fly gone but it is there and it seems to move in the form of vignettes if those vignettes were more like a sprig created from only the most horrible of pleasantries. It cuts into the air and breaks the space and sense of stillness and suddenly eons upon eons pour out in a most violent manner and then you’re dimension diving but the issue is that you’ve forgotten to wear good pants and so you’re stuck in the pants you’ve been wearing for the past three days so now you’ve got to find a washing machine but you don’t even know what they look like in these new possibilities and its all endless.
Endlessly boring.
You’d think that at the very least the doilies would look more interesting but they still have that same sense of kitsch that you don’t understand because you were too young to at the time, but little do you realise you’re approaching that age where the things you think of as fancy people younger than you think are trash and so the cycle continues and you’ve learned nothing about how things can change and how you should never leave the path of growth.
Somehow you notice a sour cream stain that wasn’t on your shirt before and then you realise you brought the food you hastily made before sitting down only to be bothered by a fly, so perhaps you can use them as a way to change your trajectory by throwing them away from you and hoping the thrust somehow makes you go back and then you can be back home, but now you’re stuck with a problem.
See, you get rid of the food and then you don’t have the food. You might have to make some more. You eat, you may be stuck.
It’s a tough choice.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 09:23:37
I stopped to think a few times but overall I think this turned out well. The writing isn’t good but this was really fun to write and it goes somewhere. It’s just silly and potentially absurd stuff.
Written at home.
Aiming for four minutes. Not sure if I will get there but I’m still going to try.
This morning that was not the plan. The plan was to just write and get something out there, regardless of how lacking it would be, but that’s not a good plan. Well, maybe it is a good plan but it was not the best plan I could’ve come up with. However, now that the starting of the work day draws near, I need to get something out and so, not having much time I decided the best idea would be to race ahead as quickly as I could and just hope for the best.
Really, that’s how most of this goes, so nothing different from the norm there, except once more I’ll be trying to get it done faster than usual.
Is this a good idea? No. This is a terrible idea, but it is one in which I am engaging and in engaging with it I still am growing in some manner, though perhaps it looks more like stagnating. Maybe it is stagnating and I’m going nowhere once more but still I will persist and still I will continue to do the thing that I do here which is provide a whole lot of nothing and in that nothing there will be nothing revealed, but we always forget that nothing is something, or do we?
There are fare too many questions at this current juncture in time. What I need to do is keep on writing and keep on punching on through the wall of text that I am creating. If I can do that, then surely success will be in my hands and finally I will receive all the recognition I truly believe that I truly deserve, and the millions upon millions of dollars that I…
I don’t know where I was going with that.
It’s a rainy day today and I hope it remains that way, but the sun is coming out and if the sun comes out too much then the rain will no longer be here and I’ll be forced to reckon with the fact that I have to move plants around. I don’t want to move plants around as I’d rather leave them where they are, but the summer sun tears through some of them and so there are things that need to be done so as to protects them from its burning heat and searing light.
well, I didn’t quite make it but I got most of the way. I already know this as I can see the timer counting down and I can see the amount of words remaining and there just isn’t enough time to get the whole thing done in the time I hoped to get it done. Still, once more this is a learning experience and in that experience I’ve gained something, though what that is I’ll never know, unless somehow I do know, but admitting that makes the mystery less mysterious.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 04:53:07
Unfortunately it didn’t rain for much longer after I finished this off.
Oh well.
Written at home.
Stupidity Hole 