I know very little about the behaviour of Intellagama lesueurii lesueurii.
I’d like to believe that they do prefer environments and surfaces in which they can blend in due to making it easy to escape predators and hunt prey. I think that this one was trying to blend in with this particular surface, which was a handrail made from rock.
Here are two other photos of the same eastern water dragon.
I hope you enjoy.
I don’t know as to why I am doing another one of these so soon after finishing the last one, but I feel as though I have a bit of a plan of which I want to go through. Perhaps this is some sort of experiment of which I am trying to indulge. I can’t tell you id that is indeed the case, but we’ll find out once I get to the end of this, or maybe we won’t It is all too early in the day to tell, even though it is almost the evening, and by almost I mean a few hours away. If we were not in the period known as “daylight savings” we would definitely be quite close to the evening. However, right now we are not and as such we are doing things that are related to the afternoon, even though they are not. Who is “we”? Well, it is a generalised group of people that I am making grand assumptions about in regards to what they do in their time in the afternoon.
Anyway, that is not the point of this writing, although there is no real point, but that may or may not come around later. What the point is is to express a whole series of words connected to each other without saying much at all. Hopefully there is nothing said, but I don’t know if that will indeed be the case. Not at the end of this yet.
Anyway, we’ll see what happens. Maybe this will be a dismal failure. Maybe it will be entertaining. Maybe there will be nothing that will come of it and then one day in a few years I will remember my writing this and think to myself as to how silly this bit of writing was. Maybe I will think about that. I know that I’ve considered some things I’ve written a few years ago to be a bit silly and perhaps even embarrassing, but I still leave them up. I wrote them and they exist and that is not something of which I can run away from in this day and age. Oh well. It happens. Learn from your writing mistakes and become a better writer where you can as you can only improve and get better if you try to improve and get better. It is a good way to go about things.
Yes, we should all do a bit more learning about things and become better at knowing things so we can be better to the people and the earth and the creatures and everything that we can be better toward. It is a good idea to learn and gain knowledge and then contribute to creating more knowledge. Always a good thing and I’m not sure why people rally against the idea.
Okay, I know as to why some people rally against the idea, but there are groups of people who rally against the idea of gaining knowledge and learning and growing and I don’t understand as to why those groups of people don’t want to learn. It seems like a bit of a loss and it also seems a bit disappointing. However, unfortunately that is the way that things go and sometimes you have to work a little harder to reach people so that they know better and thus the improvement of things can continue, hopefully unabated where possible.
It is a problem.
Anyway, now that I have that out of the way, I realise that I’ve put some meaning into this. There is now a sense of poignancy. It is now poignant, or maybe it is not. Maybe I am using the wrong word here. I don’t’ want to find out right now. I don’t want to learn. However, I have done what I was not aiming to do (assuming that is indeed not what I was aiming to do(and now the mask has come off. The veil has been lifted and summarily thrown away. I cannot abate the deception anymore.
Wait. I cannot hold onto the deception anymore. That’s better.
Anyway, here we go. now you all know and I have revealed top much and this is a problem as now I don’t know as to how I can continue with the writing of this post. I don’t know as to here I can go from here. This is an issue and I need to address it with the haste of someone that addresses things… hastily. That works.
Well, maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should accept my folly and just try to do better. That would make more sense. Well, maybe it wouldn’t but it would make for something else. Accepting responsibility for one’s own mistakes is a good thing to do. Helps learn and grow. You own your mistakes, you can change things around. Well, not in all instances, but perhaps you can make things a little better in some way. You can grow as a person so long as you keep an eye on yourself. If you’re not going to tolerate bullshit, that does mean that you should not tolerate your own bullshit.
Reflection and self-criticism is good, but being too harsh on yourself is bad. Don’t want to do that. Need to strike a fine balance so that you’re not just bogging yourself down in crap. At the same time, can’t just let yourself off the hook. Need to be a responsible individual for the betterment of the community. Need to do all that stuff.
Anyway, I don’t know where I am going with this anymore. I think I’ve been a little too something something. I don’t know. I can’t think of words right now.
I need to stop saying “I don’t know”. It’s not good. Well, it is good, but using too much can harm the context and make the term meaningless. Don’t want to do that.
Well, I think now that I’ve said that, I’m going to stop writing until I do more writing.
The time it took to write one thousand words: 09:55:86
Fast. I think.
I feel as though if I had twisted this into some sort of fiction then perhaps it would read better. There’s some good stuff in there, though it’s not said well.
Written at home.
This is the vocalist from Above, Below (here’s a photo of the band). This was captured when they were supporting Born of Osiris and Chelsea Grin at The Bald Faced Stag last year (gallery here and review here).
Not much to say about this image. I don’t think it’s a great one, but I do think I captured a moment of energy quite well. There’s a sense of both fragility and aggression that I think comes through, but as with most of the gig shots I share, a sense of passion.
This is my submission into Leanne Cole‘s “Monochrome Madness” for this week.
I suggest checking out Leanne’s photography, as well as checking out what other people submit.
A lot of what people are submitting will likely end up here.
I hope you enjoy.
Walking out into the empty street. It is dark, it is night. The rain recently flecked the street with its being. No longer raining, but the lights stretch, somehow become brighter in contrast. The rain helps, reflects the light a little more. It’s cast hard against the darkened backdrop. Gotta go walk, gotta have my head low.
Walking along the street, few people around. Lonesome jazz plays in the background somewhere off in the distance of my mind. It’s the soundtrack to my walking, to my despondency, all that kind of stuff. Hard walk, lonesome walk. Gotta think about things, gotta think things through.
Got to work out what I’m doing with my life, work out if there really are any hard truths. Feeling despondent, depressed, down, hurt, all those kinds of things. Still gotta walk. The setting is suited for it, seems like this is out of some bad fiction. Still, gotta keep on walking. Feel the grieving. Feel the pain. Sure it will pass once this walk is over. Maybe.
Might not work out some things. Don’t know who hurt who, why I hurt, though I know the cause that started it. Still, don’t like how scenic and fictional this all feels. It’s as though someone is writing my story and the hands of fiction are hidden away somewhere. Don’t like not being able to see what it is that is guiding me, all that other crap. Still, gotta keep walking, gotta try and work it all out.
Some cars drive on by, off into the dark, or maybe it’s the light. Not sure which. They drive off to something that makes it far more difficult for me to be able to perceive their existence. No puddles on the road, makes it easier for me to walk and feel confused about the whole thing. Just keep on walking. The silence is palpable. The soundtrack is in my head, but the silence remains thick and strong. It is almost overwhelming. Of course there is no real silence, but that is how it feels right now. Like all sound drifted away and all that I’m hearing outside of my own thoughts is just an imitation of the idea of what sound is meant to be like.
Keep on walking, keeping a low view of what is ahead of me. Noticing the ground in front of my feet a little more. Seems to have a lot of detail in it; details that I normally would not recognise, such as the cracks that seem unable to be covered over. Perhaps they can be covered over, but without a proper fix they will remain there, underneath the surface. Maybe they’ll spread and create more damage than already has been caused; maybe they’ll stay as they are.
Gotta keep on walking, through this street scene. Keep walking away and through the night, through a place that recently accepted rain, making lights stronger and more pervasive among the darkened backdrop of the lonesome urban night.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:22:67
I think I started off well and ended up dropping the ball early on. As such I consider this writing to be something that needs work on. Need to develop a bit more.
Written at home.
Another shot of this drummer who is known as Liam Merrett-Park and performs in Crooked Colours.
I like how dark and still this photo is. I also like the colours feeling kind of muted.
It’s not a great shot for showing the musician, but more the idea of “scene”, I think.
Here are some other photos from the gig.
I didn’t use this photo for what went up on Culture Eater. I think if I cropped it I would’ve ended up doing so.
The gallery for Crooked Colours’ gig at The Enmore last year is here, and the corresponding review is here.
I hope you enjoy.
So once upon a time there was a frog. This was an ordinary frog and it did the things that a frog does. It wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. It may have been sitting on a lily pad at some point once in the present, past, and perhaps even in the indeterminate future, but other than that it just did frog things. There were times that there was croaking. There were times that involved walking. Sometimes there was spawning.
As far as I am aware, there were times in which the frog was not immersed in water.
Anyway, there was this one time when the frog was both a frog and not a frog. Of course this caused some serious issues over its own recognition of identity and self-worth. It was stuck there for a while, paralytic at this contradiction in reality of which was the reality in which it had found itself living with. This caused more than one issue, of course. There was stress, anger, anguish, confusion, abrasion, bewilderment, angst, and so on and so forth. There were plenty of things that were causing issues.
Eventually the particular issue was resolved and the frog was then fine, or something. However, it did not enjoy the contradiction as somehow the brain of a… I don’t know… something too ridiculous… had been swapped into its space of cranium and therefore the contradiction was caused.
Anyway, once the contradiction was resolved it realised that it did not mind the experience too much, but of course something else happened and then it just went back to doing the things that it was doing in the first place.
Bear with me on this one. I’m tired and and trying to get flies to stick to walls.
So anyway, there was one time when the frog immersed itself in water. When it had immersed itself it shortly realised that it had no reason to be in the water and so removed itself from a state of immersion and then walked off to somewhere else so as to be able to do some other things. There are things that frogs do of which I am not privy to, so you’re just going to have to use your imagination on this one as I’ve no real idea on what was happening. It did what I knew it did, then it left the scene and as I’m merely a spectator I was no longer able to see what the frog was doing. Sure, I could’ve gotten up, but I was fixed to my position and so I had no choice but to watch the scene from a fixed angle.
Let us all assume that the frog left to go and play korfball or something. That works. Frogs now play korfball. That is what the frog did. It was on a team of recreational korfball players and that is what the frog went off to do. Of course, in doing so, it had plenty of fun.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:29:19
Not sure if I can explain this one.
I can confirm that it is indeed rather silly.
Written at home.
This was written yesterday in one short sitting and then edited over the last hour.
I feel as though as far as reviews go this is acceptable. I don’t think it’s great, but I feel as though I’m developing something.
I think that at the very least I described the music well.
Most of my interview and review work now appears on Culture Eater.
My colleague and I set up a Patreon to further develop Culture Eater as a source of good quality arts coverage from both ourselves and our contributors.
We’re looking at what we can give to supporters as we don’t want to set up a one way relationship, so suggestions are welcome. Podcast Eater is one of the things we’ve got going.
Please consider supporting, or at least sharing the Patreon page with others. Please also check out what our wonderful contributors are contributing.
I hope you enjoy.
—
It all starts with a lonesome piano. It’s perhaps a little too much on the melodramatic, but opening Whale Fall‘s It Will Become Itself with the dramatic “It Will Become Itself” feels appropriate. Violin comes in to meet the piano as it makes some notes stick out and strike at the heartstrings. There’s a sense of the scenery here; perhaps it is the representation of being on a beach and staring out, bitter and burned out.
After that what may or may not be It Will Become Itself‘s centrepiece: “El Caracol”. The song fades in its guitar noise as a fuzzed out warmth for which cleaner guitar builds on and plays over. Percussion slowly and gently comes in to caress, as does trumpet. The warm noise falls away and now all others play in some sort of unison. This is a comforting and relaxing melody. It’s not that it sounds happy, but it’s just easy on the ears; gentle, soft and caressing. Eventually Whale Fall switch to something that implies an impending bigness.
A brief drop away and a little more softness, then crunchy guitar comes back in. It crashes on the beat and recedes. A few repeats and the piano joins in, mimicking itself a little from the prior track. Gradually the band build into something bigger but keeping things from overflowing. Before going for the expected crescendo Whale Fall instead pull back. They keep attacking the riff they’re building on though, giving it more of a sense of a push, but then let it dissipate.
Quiet builds, then sounds akin to oceanic creatures form in the distance. Sound remains restrained, though much of what is going on feels like a suggestion of increasing mass and intensity. Bass sounds play out gentle notes as noise starts to march forward from somewhere behind the fragile percussion. Horns sound out, announcing the arrival of something massive. Percussion picks back up. Slight shift and the horns become more frantic, the percussion much more tense. Then once more the building energy shifts into something else.
Now what feels like an “off” reflection of the earlier calm section plays out. Gears shift and build quickly on this new setting into something a bit more murky and menacing. Tremolo sounds flicker in and out before once more peeling back.
The lonely piano returns with all the weight of drama that it carried before. Once more it wrings as much emotion it can out of its notes. I think I understand why this section is in “El Caracol”, but I’m not sure if Whale Fall are trying to articulate the plight of gastropods, express the history of a structure at Chichén Itzá, describe a whale fall in a joyously sombre manner, or if they’re just being self-congratulatory.
Once the piano also away a little bit of guitar and strings over ambient washes remains. The drama, whilst still prominent, changes shape. Suddenly a form of beauty reveals itself as that which was there gradually flows away, leaving little remaining.
“The Well” is much smaller in scope. Careful strums wobble around a loose percussion flow; piano plays and controls the melody whilst adding a wistfulness to the proceedings. The lonesome trumpet finds a moment to speak out and paint the scene a little more; a scene of walking out into the night street after it recently saw rain. Either that or perhaps Whale Fall are presenting themselves as a sad bar band. There’s a reach through a thin veil of smoke and thoughts seemingly mean to turn inward rather than outward. Perhaps this is a reflection on the title track, though perhaps putting the emotional wight in a different context and a sharp suit.
Suddenly a shift into “A Street Scene” with very little fanfare or smoothness; It just kind of happens. However, the two sections feel like a natural fit to each other. There’s a bit more of a liveliness, perhaps based on the idea of… well… a scene on a street. Most of the music pumps down and builds up a busy energy whilst some sort of synth-like sound occasionally rises and floats on away from a pulsing shape. Percussion keeps everything steadily moving forward.
There’s a build and rise in noise and it creates this weirdly loud, but warm and rather peaceful din. Some melodic falls that fit in nice and snugly for as long as necessary. The music is “moving” and they help to provide direction in that movement. The song grows more into the shape of jazz, but once it reaches a required point, some sounds gradually pull back and make room for space
As “A Street Scene” drops out, “Pacific” fills the void. Whilst it begins quiet, it does not stay quiet. A light flickering of sound at the edges, then percussion makes itself known. From something formless shape is provided and the percussion guides through what feels like unknown territory. Outside sounds start rising and become shaped, but never quite get there; at least, for a little bit. Greater context forms, more surfacing, more stuff becoming clear. Gradually the percussion gains volume and greater clarity, as does guitar when it finally higher than other sounds.
Guiding it all the percussion becomes a little fuller, but pulls back to allow room for other sounds. A dance continues onward and gradually grows in intensity and menace as it rolls and shifts into something more direct and grand in size. It cannot last, however, and instead of letting it grow too large, once more Whale Fall pull back before making their next approach.
Here the main melody of “Pacific” returns and shifts. Guitar staccatos, flute appears joyously and trumpet sounds out triumphantly. The song transforms into something with a clear certainty. A sense of elation takes over and celebrates, if only for a moment, for it too must disappear. The song relaxes and eases itself into the quiet, and It Will Become Itself ends.
It will Become Itself is based off a thirty-eight minute improvisational jam. Considering the repeated musical motif(s) recontextualised as required and the transitional nature of the songs, it makes sense and is all the better off for it. Additionally, at quite a few points Whale Fall could go for the big riff and do the expected. At all possible times they don’t; here they’re more interested in their music holding depth over having superfluous crescendos.
Often Whale Fall sound like they drive toward a common goal of making the music move. Whether this was intentional or not, it’s something they pull off successfully as overall It Will Become Itself flows well; really well.
It Will Become Itself is available here.
Train tracks: The arbiter of dreams, desires, philosophies, meaning, lack of meaning and so many other things, or something.
What does this scene mean? Does it need to mean anything. Is there meaning within anything pertaining to this scene?
Well, maybe. Truthfully I just enjoy taking pictures of railway-related stuff, though that’s probably obvious at this point.
I’m rather happy with the sense of distance in this shot, as well as the lighting. Just gives the image a nice feel to me.
I hope you enjoy.
Well, it certainly is a Monday today as defined by the period of time known as “Monday”, or something. I’m sure that there are counter-arguments to that, but I’m not interested in entertaining them. Not really interested in trying to be entertaining at all, if I am to be as honest as I can be at this given time. I think that is due to the encroaching eight hours of power of which I am to endeavour upon, which is something I don’t want to do but must, but that is the way that the things go at the moment.
Weather is not great outside, so I guess it is fine. I think today will be a good day. I have no idea as to why I think that, but sometimes it is indeed a good thing to think. Better than thinking that the gloomy weather will somehow cause the havoc of which I am unable to see or experience, but somehow feel as though it were something distant creating some sort of pressure and malaise in the universe that I cannot perceive, but still feel. You know, when the feeling of something feeling “off” comes into effect. That is what I mean. I think.
Anyway, I really need to start getting into the getting going to the place of work that I refer to as work. Sure, the only difference between that and now is the changing of the screen of which I am on, but still, that does mean the travel of sorts.
Yes, I am throwing stuff at the wall and hoping that something sticks. I shall keep on going as that is what I want to do at this particular hour of the morning, I think.
Anyway, work starts soon and I shall continue with my racing forward toward creating more mess that isn’t worth reading in the slightest. Maybe this might all make too much sense given particular and very specific context, but if it doesn’t, then perhaps I have found some success and I can continue on as though the success was all mine and not something that came via pure luck. There is always hope and there is always action and in my dancing with the two, I’m sure that there will be some sort of bridge of which I create through happenstance, I hope.
Anyway, now that I’ve got all that I want to get out of the way, I think I should express that I really need to start doing these earlier and not just before the commencement of work. I’d also rather go tp a beach somewhere and relax a bit, or maybe even go bushwalking. However, there is a time and a place and right now is neither. Right now is the dealing with the customers and I need to be prepared and ready to go in order to help them out to the best of my ability.
Anyway, I need a shovel. I need to dig a hole.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 04:48:35
Been a busy day of work thus far.
Instead of this being morning waffle, it now is afternoon waffle.
Written at home.
Stupidity Hole 