Spencer Nilsen: Heart of the Giant

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 to 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.

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Water Falls From the Path

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.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1210: The Rain Returns

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.

 

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This Gull

It almost appears as though this silver gull has no distinction between its head and the front of its body.

I hope you enjoy.

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Growth Around the Banksia

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.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1209: A Tough Choice

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.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1208: A Speedy Rambling

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.

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A Trail Cuts Into Vegetation

A photo taken in The Blue Mountains.

This one feels a bit weird to me. I think it has to do with the focus, but it could be a number of things.

I like the contrast between this trail and the vegetation. The trail is really bright and feels much like it harshly cuts into the vegetation. It also has some accelerated erosion going on but it’s not quite visible from this angle.

I hope you enjoy.

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The Appleseed Cast: View of a Burning City

One listen for this one.
There was a bit where I started thinking too much and so I tried to let go a bit and the writing smoothed out a bit. I feel like I could’ve written more had I not started thinking about what I was writing, but maybe it worked out for the best.

The Appleseed Cast’s “View of a Burning City” is from Low Level Owl: Volume I.

I hope you enjoy.

Quiet, rushing sound captures a background just before a drone cuts through it all in order to become another part. Noise builds around the drone and it seems to pulse for a moment, and something else rushes on and up toward it, swallowing the drone and taking it away.

The space is cleared and a guitar plays out almost alone. Off in the distance a synth gently emphasises and enunciates, but it too comes toward the forefront. As it does it reveals more of itself and the scenery seems to slow down, if only for a moment.

Percussion bursts in and brings with itself a change. The sounds keep a warm coolness and remain similar to what was before, but there is now a greater range. There is a soaring through a sky, almost. There is a heaviness in the air and it remains steady and growing.

All is focused and maybe fixated. The sound seems to slowly bleed outward and expand, encompassing more and more and it moves slowly, slowly unfolding, unfurling, revealing more of itself and leading into some sort of state of complete covering. Eventually the percussion shifts, seemingly growing into a state of covering some sort of unsteadiness and more noise moves through, and starts disrupting, and a great cry comes forward and heaves and violently thrashes and drones onward.

Eventually much of the sound gives way to the noise. It continues on, harsh and engulfing, but it’s not long before the percussion rises from it and continues its steady beat, getting through the noise stopping and being there as the song ends.

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Toshack Highway: Board The Bullet Train

Two listens for this one.
At some point during the first listen something clicked and I was able to get a pretty clear image, and maybe that has to do with personal experience. Not sure. Anyway, I felt that a second listen would help and it did.

I feel that this is a bit loose but gets a pretty clear idea of the song across. Some of this could be smoother, but overall it turned out okay.

Toshack Highway’s “Board The Bullet train” is from Toshack Highway.

I hope you enjoy.

A low hum fades in and rises. Something buzzing approaches rapidly and soon they align for something underneath to  lock onto and follow along, or maybe it is the thing that leads. The beat comes in and all is warm and relaxed, and occasionally a quick shimmer appears in the corners, enunciating and adding.

All is now of a smooth and warming harmony, and sounds rise up and sit along and follow and lead, and the beat remains steady. Inside all is still and calm though an elation runs an undercurrent. All seems to remain as such, but outside things disappear at differing speeds. Some is a blur, some is slow and it all marks some sort of passing, and maybe this is all a present future.

The future was yesterday and it is now and it is here and it no longer is the future and there is a contrast between the internal and external, and it all seems to just go on by, drifting and rushing past as motion continues whilst inside there is motion but it all seems static. It is a pocket of space contained within a carriage that moves through a greater space and the greater space leaves impression of what is close and something that feels more specific at a distance, and perhaps it is the same inside the carriage.

The sounds continue on, keeping things relaxed and keeping steady. They drift and linger and remain focused on moving forward. Pulses and blurs align and carry forward with a vague glow of imagery and ideas, and space comes and goes, though it always remains.

Gradually, eventually the sounds work toward a conclusion without a grand build and without doing much slowing and perhaps now there is something more metropolitan in this space. More blurs go on by and soon sounds start peeling away and find themselves stopping, almost as though they’ve pulled in to a station, though it is only a temporary stop at the song’s end.

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