A shot of part of Milsons Point Railway Station.
I think this angle gives an idea of the station’s length.
Unintentionally, you can see a small bit of the platform’s end.
The clouds almost seem like they aren’t there, but there’s a few faint traces in the sky.
I like that most of the shot is bright and detailed.
I feel that the shade is a bit too obscuring.
I hope you enjoy.
With no idea as to where to start, but needing to start anyway, he took to his station and decided to see what would come up with any random string of commands.
Hours upon hours passed and always the result was ‘null’. This was not desired as it meant more time would be sunk into trying to get the correct set of commands and time was limited. Sure, hours had passed, but that was hours less to complete what needed to be completed and thus it was more pressure to get to the end state, the end goal.
This was not necessarily out of the ordinary, but it certainly did not mean it was any more desired.
And so the pressure was mounting to find the right set of commands in order to get to the next part of this most crucial mission, for if it was not completed, there were threats to safety that would be carried out. It was still uncertain as to how “en masse” they would be, but it was known that they would be grave, regardless of what scale on which they would fall.
The only thing resting between him and the next move was a sequence of a particular order that needed to be completed in order to go forward. The sequence was totally unknown and there was no hint, so the only way forward was through guessing and making sure one’s attempts were not repeated.
And so more hours fed themselves into more hours as looping and cross-referencing and typing away whilst trying to resist the sweet allure of pressure continued on in the feeble hope that there would be a solution eventually reached. So many ways to organise so few an amount of commands and as it continued on, the hopelessness seemed even more apparent. However, of course, despite the numerous ways to rearrange the order, there was only a finite amount of orders and as such, each failure reduced the chances of getting another failure… or, at least, that is what he was telling himself so as to be better able to handle the high chance of not being able to succeed and thus being pulled backward rather than forward, or at least just having to stop there and stop.
Soon there was less than an hour to go. He was sweating; not profusely, but steadily enough to feel it on his skin. Mistakes were slipping in, but focus remained as sharp as before. Not too many combination remained, or at least that his how he felt. There soon would be some sort of success. It could be felt.
And then the time was up. There was no success to be had. There was no more chances after this. It was over, and the correct series of commands was yet to be discovered. There was nothing left to do. This is where it unfortunately had to wrap up.
There soon would be people arriving. The least he could do was wait.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 08:27:05
Not sure as to why this came out so seriously.
I think I was trying to interject a sense of tension.
At the end I think I was trying to create a sense of “clear ambiguity” for lack of a better phrase.
Written at home.
A shot taken from The Sydney Harbour Bridge of Bradfield Park in Milsons Point.
I took this photo as the dryness of the park appealed to me in some manner.
There’s still some green in the trees, but the grass clearly lacks that and is increasing in its patchiness.
I do think that it’s interesting as to how there’s water right next to the park, but both unavailable and of no use in its rejuvenation.
I hope you enjoy.
Long is the morning in the tooth, but it does not get up, nor does it move.
It merely sits there and waits until the afternoon arrives, for then it can go and rest and take a break and so on and so forth. It doesn’t necessarily need one, but it certainly would like one at this stage of its life.
There are other things that it could better apply itself to. There are other things out there that could make better use of its skills, but still it must remain seated and waiting until its shift can end and it can go on home and rest for a while. Maybe it will try to battle the fatigue this time around. Maybe it will try and push on through for a few hours and attempt to take care of a few home projects that it would very much desire to complete. Maybe that would happen and maybe there would be success. It is possible that that would lead to some sort of being able to branch out and do something else for a living. However, until all of that happened, there needed to be the fulfillment of the current role, which was to wait until the afternoon began so it could go on home and do the other things that it wanted to do.
Until then, there had to be waiting. There had to be the getting long in the tooth. There had to be many a thing that required patience, but patience could only go so far in this instance. There was the prevention of doing anything outside of the expected task, as it was indeed a necessary task, but sometimes it grated just a little too much to make the wait not drag and prevent the mind from wandering.
There were interests and there were desires to do other things, but the inevitability of being firmly entrenched in the role that it had to play meant that the morning, for all of its wanting to get away from the role of which it was part, felt that it could not, for it had no other skills in which it could offer to others for exploitation, thus getting it away from something that it had been far too long in, leading to further inescapable entrenchment.
Still, there was always a way out, even if it did not necessarily seem like something obvious or available. It was just that the longer the time spent in the tunnel, the longer the tunnel seemed to grow and thus the longer the journey it would be before there would be a way out. That is how it seemed, anyway. Longer and longer until the point where, despite the desire to get away from the role needed to be played, it seemed as though a desire to remain stuck overtook the desire to get away.
As such, the morning remained in its role, refusing to step away until the afternoon arrived and took over.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:00:65
So even though these are written “off the cuff” (most of the time), I’m aiming to try and get out a lot of fiction between now and the end of the year.
This one isn’t great, but hopefully it’s a stepping stone to something either entertaining or satisfying to read. Need to work on the flow a bit more and the sentence structure, I think.
Written at home.
But of course it was just another Monday in a row of days. This one just happened to be particularly the one that started with “mon” and ended with “day”, instead of the one that started with “sat” and ended with “day”.
There was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing interesting. There probably should have been something out there that was, but in our protagonist’s world, there was nothing new, nothing interesting. There was the waking of the up, the sitting of the down and in between all of that there was a series of events that concluded into very little other than another day of survival; another day of going through the motions and getting to the end so they could generate enough income to buy some more feed and continue floating aimlessly through life whilst occasionally being assaulted by the upper management.
Whilst nothing new, it did certainly feel like some sort of careful dance; or, at least it was analogous to a careful dance. Much flow and movement, resistance where required whilst being struck down again and again whilst actions unbecoming of professionalism were defended whilst attempts to continue on were made as difficult as possible for no discernible reason. However, there was no change. It was the status quo and that was the best way to keep it all. No one would bat an eyelid, no one would stand up and at the end of the day everyone went home happy. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Before all of that, however, there still was the morning to conquer. Would there be more walking or more public transport? Which way to walk? How to walk? Which bus to catch to get to the railway station in order to get to the office of occupation?
Walking would allow more music, but catching a bus would allow more reading. It was a tough conundrum to tackle.
Walking would allow one to be prepared for any more attempts from management to belittle and humiliate staff, but catching public transport would allow for the reading of words formed into patterns that resemble sentences; sentences that hold the appearance of structure and integrity, and it was a great way to lose oneself before the inevitable deluge that was the need to get through documentation and enquiries.
Well, so was music, really. There were plenty of options.
The sky was clouded and the faint smell of smoke hung in the air. It was, at this point in time, nothing out of the ordinary. Little would be changing and little would ever change.
Still, at least the route to the office could contain variation and that could change. There was a little control there, at least. That was always something beneficial.
There was always the choice in how one could relax. It didn’t have to be sinking into a couch and becoming an amorphous shape for a period of time before reconstituting oneself in order to go to bed.
But still, overall, nothing new.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:52:01
This feels really all over the place and it’s not what I was aiming for, but of course these seldom turn out the way I expect.
Though I’m not really sure as to what I expect with these in the first place.
Written at work.
Here’s an area I’ve photographed from this angle a few times now.
Not sure as to what this adds to the pile of shots of this view.
I do like the lines and angularity of the objects in conjunction with each other.
This is my submission into the seventy-fifth Lens-Artists Photo Challenge.
The theme for this one is “Nostalgic“.
I don’t feel nostalgia for the city, but some might; hence the sharing of this photo.
The challenge is hosted by four people and cycles weekly:
Week 1 – Patti
Week 2 – Ann-Christine aka Leya
Week 3 – Amy
Week 4 – Tina
This one is hosted by Tina. The next will be hosted by Amy.
I recommend checking out the challenge to see how people interpret each theme.
I also recommend giving it a go.
I hope you enjoy.
This was taken a few weeks ago whilst heading home from work.
I feel as though the bushfire smoke in the area led to an eerie, dry-feeling photo.
A lot of that has to do with how the smoke was affecting the sun’s light.
The way the light is cast kind of seems pretty whilst not exactly seeming pleasant.
This is my submission into Leanne Cole‘s photo challenge for last week.
The theme for this one is “Gold”.
I suggest checking out Leanne’s photography, as well as checking out what other people submit into the challenge.
You can find the challenges here.
I hope you enjoy.
I was shooting a gig two days before the last exam I had to sit for my undergrad.
Not the smartest of moves, but it sure was a fun gig.
This is a shot of the vocalist of Golgothan Remains who were the opening band.
I’m not so sure as to how well this photo works as a representation of performance, but I think it works well as a representation of form.
I think that there’s a slight sense of depth in the photo based on the way the singer’s hands are positioned, and I like how the hair looks as though it’s in the process of fanning outward.
This is my submission into Leanne Cole‘s “Monochrome Wednesday” 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.
Today a portion of New South Wales continues to burn. It continues to remain on fire in what appears to still be the early part of a prolonged bushfire season. Yesterday was pretty bad. A lot of the fire season thus far has been pretty bad, but I’m going to try and not talk about that.
I’m going to try and not talk about the building in which I work filling with smoke yesterday and my employer essentially telling myself as well as the other employees here to keep on working whilst they try to solve the issue by opening the building to more smoke. I’m going to try and not talk about that; after all, my place of employment was not the only place to have that happen, and even though it was pretty bad, there are people out there who are getting it far, far worse. All things considered, I’m pretty lucky.
However, I’m also going to try and not talk about those who are currently facing the most risk from the bushfires. It’s bad; it’s really bad and it makes me really angry, but I’m going to try and not talk about that.
As much as I respect the people working to stop the fires, I’m not going to talk about them either. I’m going to do my best to not talk about how hard they are working to prevent communities and the rest of the state burning down. I’m not going to talk about how many of those working are volunteers, and both they and the paid staff deserve more than our respect for working as hard as they are to save people as well as animals.
As much as I really want to, I’m not going to talk about Scott Morrison – a person venerated by some – putting forward either a new or amended religious freedoms bill (I’m not sure if it’s new or not) whilst these fires are going on.
Nor am I going to talk about Scott Morrison essentially saying that we don’t need more firefighters and they don’t need more help. I’m not going to talk about the fact that he seems to be avoiding the issue of the fires as much as possible. Of course, I don’t know what happens behind closed doors. I also don’t know why using taxpayers’ money to fly to Sydney to go to Bellevue Hill to attend an event being held by one of Rupert Murdoch’s children right now could be seen as a good thing. There are are rumours saying that Scott Morrison has been avoiding speaking to fire chiefs about the current fire problem, so I don’t think that his flying off to an event is good, but there are a lot of things I don’t know.
I’ll really try to not talk about Gladys Berejiklian saying that now is not the time to talk about climate change, then later on say that she believes in climate change and that protesters should do something instead of protesting. I’ll also try my best not to talk about how the party of which she is a part cut funding for fire services earlier in the year.
I won’t talk about these things, but I do have one question that I feel is pertinent:
At what point will enough be enough?
This was taken last year at a gig featuring a most excellent band.
Not sure why I didn’t do anything with this shot at the time.
Actually, I think I am sure, but now it’s sharing has become appropriate by happenstance.
There’s some great line work in the pattern, I think.
The shape of the lines works well with the colours, and some of it almost seems to be coming out of the head’s silhouette.
This is my submission into the seventy-fourth Lens-Artists Photo Challenge.
The theme for this one is “Abstract“.
The challenge is hosted by four people and cycles weekly:
Week 1 – Patti
Week 2 – Ann-Christine aka Leya
Week 3 – Amy
Week 4 – Tina
This week is hosted by Patti and next week’s will be hosted by Tina.
I recommend checking out the challenge to see how people interpret each theme.
I also recommend giving it a go.
I hope you enjoy.
Stupidity Hole 