tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-274592922024-03-14T18:14:22.492+09:30Through Balanda EyesIncoherent rants of a scattered
and disorganized dilettante
...clinging to a dreamDavid Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.comBlogger769125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-47888516957201706842020-04-06T13:10:00.001+09:302020-04-06T13:49:42.790+09:30Semi Isolation Cnineteen<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Just a few pics of my environment while I am still permitted to leave my dwelling. (Wherever that may be)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I have not posted about the impacts of C-19 community controls, there is so much that could be said about the ways we need to change our behaviour and how society is responding to the continual updates and adjustments to laws. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">In the NT we still have some freedoms that friends and family in other states lost weeks ago. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">It is only a matter of time before things become more desperate. But, before that time comes, we are still permitted to enjoy the little things that make life worth living.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Going for a walk is thankfully still permissible. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Nightcliff Jetty just before the rain</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Planning to create a non alcoholic cocktail from ginger, coconut water and the flour of the Clitoria ternatea plant</span></span><br /><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hhA5OYVMnu8/Xoqkm8u4bmI/AAAAAAAAF0Q/keVM0aSUkqEe8qOHZ3LuJazJrCOi5qiMwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/1586144407097243-3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I've also been baking bread and making pizzas! </span></span></div>
David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-20763392576211920032020-03-28T16:43:00.001+09:302020-03-28T16:43:02.145+09:30Fairy Rings<div>Stuffed up big time! I just found a really cool ring of mushrooms (known as a fairy ring)</div><div>So I stepped into the circle! Apparently to step into a fairy ring invokes a supernatural punishment and can condemn me to madness dancing round the ring for eternity! Or some other physical injury.</div><div>Now I'm gonna have to go back at night and run around the Damned thing 9 times to get them off my case! Why can't I leave these things alone?</div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gbxQqm6ud3A/Xn74-5fKe8I/AAAAAAAAFzg/aymUZl9GvnAkttsV79UJEr-B3bhPaHVBACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200328_162325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gbxQqm6ud3A/Xn74-5fKe8I/AAAAAAAAFzg/aymUZl9GvnAkttsV79UJEr-B3bhPaHVBACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200328_162325.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="2949" data-original-height="2208" width="592" height="442" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br></div>David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-32666331106057460972020-03-23T16:55:00.001+09:302020-03-23T16:55:20.671+09:30Breathing Sorghum in seasonSome photos from commute to life in rounds of days and hours....<div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o9_MGDxa8WI/XnhkUNBgDhI/AAAAAAAAFyo/SzDYoerk_00yqP9F3OM5Vr2jVDLbvu1QgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200319_083558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o9_MGDxa8WI/XnhkUNBgDhI/AAAAAAAAFyo/SzDYoerk_00yqP9F3OM5Vr2jVDLbvu1QgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200319_083558.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="3968" data-original-height="2976" width="564" height="423" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div>Sorghum shines but a few days</div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-b1QJrnCxrwo/XnhkVym2VmI/AAAAAAAAFys/l0rNudDr_zEdsYxRBVe4uOVVMRAzSUQkQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200319_190603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-b1QJrnCxrwo/XnhkVym2VmI/AAAAAAAAFys/l0rNudDr_zEdsYxRBVe4uOVVMRAzSUQkQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200319_190603.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="3050" data-original-height="2285" width="588" height="440" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br></div>David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-44625793934416529112020-03-13T18:30:00.000+09:302020-03-13T18:30:11.061+09:30Back on the beat<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Life for me over the past month has been full of new experiences and mostly joyful interactions and opportunities to share with others and learn about myself in new ways.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">It has been quite wonderful to connect with new people and to explore aspects of myself in a safe environment where people don't feel judged or devalued for who they are.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have made some new friends and have been spending time with new people...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the business of these social adventures I have tended to neglect my own personal solo adventures, rituals and times for quiet reflection.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">This week I have tried to withdraw slightly from the social and just spend a little time alone, in my own space, without company.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Over the past few weeks I've had access to motorized transport which has allowed me to zoom around town at my leisure. I have enjoyed the idea of getting back on a motorcycle and hanging out with other riders. I was looking forward to the camaraderie and the mobility that a motorcycle would present, went to the local bike dealership and found the perfect second hand bike at a price that was too good to be true! A Suzuki Intruder 250cc. In great condition! I planned to buy it but held back... I thought about the personal gains I had made through riding my bicycle, the solitary time, sweating it out on the paths and trails, the health benefits... and I sabotaged my chances of getting that motorcycle by waiting until the end of the day to pay my deposit. When I got to the shop it had been sold!</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I can't believe I didn't buy this beautiful machine! It was in perfect condition!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Foregoing motorized transport has been a little inconvenient back on my bicycle and am sweating it out on the time consuming commute to work along the coastal trail. It eats up a fair bit of my time but I know it is healthy for me in the long run.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Just thought I'd share this stuff as a marker in time. No matter how much I value the company of others, I do not forget the importance of solitude. </span></span></div>
David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-30512266737443625032020-03-09T00:30:00.000+09:302020-03-09T11:59:11.627+09:30Weather<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally Some decent rain in Darwin!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Storm clouds building early morning</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Then at about 9am she came down! Big one Rain! Flooding everything. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Interestingly the new Flood mitigation area near the airport appeared to make bugger all difference, Millions spent, large scale vegetation removal and excavation work to create a basin for water to stagnate in and Rapid Creek road was flooded as usual. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was working when I saw it and didn't have time to take photos but the flood mitigation area had a shallow pool of water sitting in it which would likely have been absorbed by the vegetation they removed to build the bloody thing anyway! </span></span><br />
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<br />David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-42950380342106624152020-03-05T15:11:00.001+09:302020-03-05T17:11:00.783+09:30Blue faced honeyeater & the Rubbish Warrior<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">So I was down at Nightcliff foreshore with Trev and he was giving me a presentation of the comedy skit he'd been working on and would perform at Happy Yes that night. It was getting pretty animated (as usual) and this Blue Faced Honeyeater came down from the tree and started interacting with him. As Trev was waving his arms around the bird started dancing and squawking and came right up close. They were both bouncing around,flapping wings and waving arms making a racket at each other. Trev raising his voice so he could be heard, which only invoked more flamboyant behavior from the bird! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">When Trev finally completed his performance he sat down and began to eat his pie. The bird stayed close and moved in fast to collect his share of the meal. He danced around on the table and took crumbs of the meat pie until his hunger was satisfied. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes I wonder why I continue to live here in Darwin.... a small town on the edge of the continent (Island?), It's a hot and sweaty place too far from any towns worth driving to, if Asia wasn't so close it could feel quite remote... But things like this keep happening to remind me why I love it and I stay another year! Where else could I possibly go after living here?</span></span><br />
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David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-75304448762844533612020-02-18T11:18:00.001+09:302020-02-20T10:53:43.816+09:30Jesus for Johnston<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday morning I received a call from the notorious Mr Jenkins, the 'Rubbish Warrior'. There's an election looming an Tevor is fully engaged in campaign mode!</span></span><br />
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<span courier="" monospace="" new=""><span style="font-size: large;">His persona this year: Jesus for Johnston!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span courier="" monospace="" new="">He asked me to help him get some props for the campaign, but I flatly refused. "I want nothing to do with your mad attempts to hijack the democratic system! Besides I work for a church! Do you think Jesus would approve of you doing this?"</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span courier="" monospace="" new=""><span style="font-size: large;">"Yes" he said then he proceeded to describe an interview inwhich he discussed his policy platform. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span courier="" monospace="" new=""><span style="font-size: large;">The question he was asked was "How are you going to reduce the cost of living for Territorians?"</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span courier="" monospace="" new=""><span style="font-size: large;">His answer was convincing and articulate. He simply repeated some basic instruction that Jesus had left his disciples a couple of thousand years ago which completely contradict the current capitalist attitude of smash and grab when it comes to our common welfare and the management of resources. </span></span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Sneak peak at Trevors policy platform:</span></span></b></div>
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"campaign slogan is JESUS FOR JOHNSTON The two planks of the campaign are LOVE THE LORD YOUR GOD WITH ALL YUR HEART MIND AND SOUL and THE SECOMD IS LIKE IT LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOUR<br />
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as you love yourself ie do unto others as they do unto you on that hangs all the law and the prophets THATS HOW I LIVE LITERALLY I LIVE WITHUT MONEY AND TRUST IN JESUS CHRIST OYU CAN DO IT TOO Thats hoe id reduce the real cost of living for the ggod burgers of johston LIVE WITHIN YUR MEANS AND BE SATISFIED WITH WHAT YU HAVE With food and clothing let us be content GIVE AND YOU WILL BE TAKEN CARE OF YOUR CUP IL BE OVERFLOWING UP TO THE BRIM AND OVERHEAD GOD BLESS 111How good is that amen..."</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span courier="" monospace="" new=""><span style="font-size: large;">I thought about it and agreed. I doubt that Jesus would mind his theatrical political performance if that is the message he chooses to take to the poles.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span courier="" monospace="" new=""><span style="font-size: large;">I saw Trevor on the side of the road this morning, in full swing, electioneering.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span courier="" monospace="" new=""><span style="font-size: large;">Stay tuned for more political updates and results.</span></span></span></div>
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David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-1721657606890285962020-02-16T07:06:00.001+09:302020-02-16T07:06:57.493+09:30SpaciousnessI can sit on a rock at the most popular recreational area in Darwin and have the place to myself. Sitting beside a bird with a neck like a snake that no one even sees.<div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0jbDEo1SZ_c/XkhkcER5cWI/AAAAAAAAFsM/Ea-_qRz3jv4X4BFP8Vwi0KOrPZhMJj_1gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200216_064154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0jbDEo1SZ_c/XkhkcER5cWI/AAAAAAAAFsM/Ea-_qRz3jv4X4BFP8Vwi0KOrPZhMJj_1gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200216_064154.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="2976" data-original-height="3968" width="399" height="532" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><div><br><div>Being comfortably invisible alone and encompassed by earth and sky and sea. The bird preens unaffected by my presence. </div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bZ80cWEWVXI/Xkhkdvd-kcI/AAAAAAAAFsQ/MiYGuSIlY3g5Qq-s_RbNPnY9y337aAvXQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200216_064440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bZ80cWEWVXI/Xkhkdvd-kcI/AAAAAAAAFsQ/MiYGuSIlY3g5Qq-s_RbNPnY9y337aAvXQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200216_064440.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="4864" data-original-height="3136" width="597" height="384" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br></div><div><br><div><br></div></div></div>David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-84653373268203271942020-02-15T21:18:00.001+09:302020-02-15T21:18:46.262+09:30Speck on a rock<div>I go to this rock between the jetty and the pool as often as I can. Take off the shoes (thongs) walk across the soft clay stone, observe the level of the water, sometimes high tide, sometimes low, feel the breeze. Be still. Today I lay flat on my back and focussed on the waning moon and watched the clouds drift across the sky. It almost appeared as though the moon was moving away in the opposite direction. I had a real sense of being a tiny organism, a speck on the surface of a globe spinning through space... what was I thinking or worried about before that moment? Can't remember, don't care.<br></div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Je_1OQQ8pdA/Xkfal_MPziI/AAAAAAAAFrw/UtydgWzT698eKtpRJqJ67gbeBsJcj6BBwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200215_074438.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Je_1OQQ8pdA/Xkfal_MPziI/AAAAAAAAFrw/UtydgWzT698eKtpRJqJ67gbeBsJcj6BBwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200215_074438.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="7360" data-original-height="3072" width="611" height="254" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div>David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-8660471995632442462020-02-13T09:24:00.001+09:302020-02-13T10:07:38.834+09:30Bringing home the honey<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">From a single ivory flower on the smallest battered bush on a salt swept rock, one stingless bee finds bounty for the hive.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">And on another flower on some other bush, another bee struggles and finds what it seeks.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">No matter how unlikely, or how slight the chance, life persists where unity exists</span></span></div>
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David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-92061960673006136702020-02-12T13:22:00.001+09:302020-02-12T14:04:56.925+09:30Interplay of Sun & Moon & Earth<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">We were talking for ages about balance and extremes, the topic constant contortions between the madness and the sane. And thimble of darkness that infiltrates the light and bright specks of something that interrupts the night.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The cliche symbology we tattoo on upon skin. The hardness of the Yang, softened by the Yin. Did you consider it spins? A centrifugal power that contains us all within!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">And the places where our feet fall and the people that we meet. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The wild delightful places that appear just off the street.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">To stand in the vortex between this place and that, and To be without breathing a mind sharp as a tack.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">To watch the Sun rising while the moon is in sight, and in turn as we're spinning she retreats from the light. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The power emitted in the spinning of orbs, and a life so committed to the life that it knows. To stand on the shore as the tide draws in and know that now is only time there has been.</span></span></div>
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David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-62867284979299871162020-02-10T07:58:00.001+09:302020-02-10T10:34:17.189+09:30About the bass<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sound! birds, wind, frogs, clap sticks... Music!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">The vibrations that pass through my ear canal and are somehow assimilated into separate causes, meaning, messages of warning, danger, safety, diversity, spaciousness, populated by innumerable other entities, each with its own frequency, rhythm volume... All conducted through my nervous system and processed in my brain in fractions of a second. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Identified, sorted in terms of significance, prioritized and delivered to the decision making department.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Last Friday I got a new set of ear bud headphones. The sound quality totally blitzed my old set.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's so weird, I don't know if other people have this reaction. When I had the volume up on a couple of songs the tone and depth of the BASS brought such a feeling of elation my heart sunk and lifted with the tones, skipping past the logic center, fast tracked to the heart! It brought tears to my eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was cycling along the coast and I just felt so overwhelmed with the beauty that I started to quiver and tears welled up in my eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I threw my arms up in the air and let out a howl and kept riding. Drifting, gliding... On two wheels but somehow in the air, my blood pulsing, skin electric, enveloped by the humid morning air... mind tripping, heart skipping wheels spinning, horizon drawing me near to a place beyond the clouds, gravity failing to hold me and the beat driving me on from my head to my toes tears falling behind my magic carpet on two wheels... Smile stretching, eyes reaching every soul I passed. Bass divining spirit through layers of reason.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">To have my hearing is a blessing. Making gratitude my foundation and embrace the bass.</span></span></div>
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David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-57314930862588383772020-02-07T17:18:00.001+09:302020-02-07T22:52:51.882+09:30The Greatest Smallest ForestThis week was the birthday of my friend Nathalie (Nat)<br>
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An artist, with many talents and a woman who I admired for her humor, her capacity to see through bullshit (including mine), her straight talking cynicism, her taste for strong coffee and her propensity for freedom over comfort and truth above conformity!<br><br><div>It was heartbreaking when Nat died at the end of February last year. I have missed her deeply.</div><div><br></div><div>She had so much talent to share with the world and produced art that in my opinion was the best in Darwin!<br>
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Nat was also pretty good at Calligraphy she designed and drew the guest book when Prince Charles visited Darwin in 2018. </div><div><br></div><div>My mum has a hand written copy of Desiderata that Nat wrote in beautiful calligraphy before Christmas in 2018. It must have taken her ages.</div><div>
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Please check out her work on her blog The Smallest Forest, it is full of so many wonderful surprises. I have no idea how long the blog will continue to be hosted. Chances are it will be taken down pretty soon.<br>
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<a href="https://smallestforest.net/" target="_blank">The Smalest Forest</a><br>
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<br></div>David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-26077202809073486822020-02-06T22:11:00.001+09:302020-02-07T10:18:10.221+09:30Specials entry<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Hi... this is a truncated post from my phone because I just lost an entire essay I'd written about Terry Hall and The Specials when my finger slipped on the screen of my phone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">It was about a coincidence and a realization that I thought was pretty cool but now I just want to go to sleep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Here's the short version.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I saw a cool video and song by The Specials, liked the band and the style of singer Terry Hall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">I also liked a version of Our Lips Are Sealed that I had downloaded onto my phone, not knowing who the band was that recorded it. (Not The Go Gos)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">So I looked up the band and they were called Fun Boy Three. The band Terry, Neville Stapple and Lynval Golding created after The Specials broke up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">So there it is. My big coincidence for the week!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">BFD! If you'd read my essay before I deleted it you'd probably be ringing me to say how you relate and how freaky that is because what I'd written was exactly what you were thinking exactly as you were reading it and how the convergence of ideas caused a spike in space time continuum and that all the socks you'd lost in the wash for the past 20 years suddenly shows up! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">But of course that'll never happen, because I deleted the whole freaking thing!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace; font-size: large;">Here they are, Fun Boy Three with Our Lips Are Sealed.. yay.</span></div>
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David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-18654020759210402612020-02-02T23:43:00.001+09:302020-02-03T07:58:07.532+09:30The scent of place<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">We arrived at the house, street green with trees and shrubs, but dry lawns desiccated brown.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Summer heat draws all moisture summons fragrance from living things.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The exposed soil has its scent the garden another, a special smell living, resilient beauty, tough and gentle. Each time a little different, always life giving in the contrast to dead bitumen streets. Mood affected by flowers in bloom. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The smell of roses is sometimes strong, but lavender will overpower everything, brush past the rosemary or crush it under foot or car tyre and it leaps up and fills the senses.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">On this morning before the dry sting of rarified aircraft ventilation had worn off, the garden did smell faintly of marzipan. I don't know why or how. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another dry, hot year, not many flowers blooming. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Definitely marzipan. Subtle... marzipan. Just slightly but enough to know. A sweet welcome. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Home.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">And in the paddocks a peppery mixture of dry dust and golden wild grain, the smell of grass and sedge. I have no idea what the grass is that produces that scent, I can show you the stem, the flower and seed, but I don't know the name of it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">We name, names mean something, but the sense of smell tells all. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">That grass rustles when the wind blows or when you walk through it. It smells stronger in the heat.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The eucalyptus has a smell too, it is strong and winds through valleys on updrafts and breezes, it moves with the change of air pressure. And the morning dew produces a trace of something else, sweet and heavy in the green grassy valleys of foothills between the city and the dividing range. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Before the fires consumed our forests, the dark moist earth of tree fern gullies had its scent too. If the intimate beauty of that place ever returns I'll remember the scent in an instant! But that will take a long time. A lifetime, maybe longer. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I couldn't wait to leave Darwin, the tropical air with its own pungent smells of dead rats, cockroach shit and mold. Every year when the rains come so many rats are flushed out of their homes to die on the road behind the bins and in gardens. So many dead things... </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Houses stink of food scraps rotting in the bin, but not our place, when I return from a trip I smell, frangipani, Moria or sometimes the happy plant. A home must smell good. A brief respite from the onslaught of death and rot. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">On my first day back at work I cycle past the vacant block where the overpowering smell of human shit, reminds me that 100s are sleeping rough, mostly unnoticed by office workers who only pass from air conditioned, house to car to office and back again. But I smell it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I smell everything and so little of it smells sweet. </span></span></div>
David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-80070235064398887902020-02-02T11:04:00.001+09:302020-02-03T08:12:25.438+09:30A sleepless night<div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Two months of great health drinking water, less caffeine, eating less, but the last few days have been a bit different. Too much coffee! Couldn't sleep, mind slipped back into impulsive and beatnik tendencies.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was there I had the chance, </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'd heard the name but didn't know </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Wasn't ready, what would I do?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Big Sur, a park, a place on a Wild coast, a wilderness to visit. I was right there but I didn't go, I didn't know.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then one time alone in Bali, staying in the house of an ailing sober friend of Bill, (he was away receiving treatment for cancer). I found the book in Dave's collection, Big Sur. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I knew Kerouac, 'The Dharma Bums', 'On the Road'. The mad alcoholic adolescent decadence, I knew the life I'd skirted, the orbit drawing closer to final oblivion, I saw the collapse of reason, or ability to live in any reasonable way. I knew that life but without the glory, or romantic success of poetry beat ranting celebrity, without the intelligence, or fame, women or interesting friends to abuse and neglect. I knew it at its core reality and bleakness, I knew its sham and hope without reason.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">From the edge of experience chance brought grace, my trajectory deflected by the atmospheric density of the sphere, confounding gravity that pulled me down, I was cast blindly into the gaps between the stars and looking down at the waste resurrected.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I read Big Sur with a sober eye and truly saw the sadness of the life of Jack, a soul sacrificed for the sake of desire and self will, addiction and his own funeral pyre. I read it and I knew that with all of my experience and all that I knew I am the same. I would struggle with solitude. The forest is fine but like Jack I'd known that Emerson was right and I am weak! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">BUT I must go! I had intended before I knew what it was and now it taunts me like it tortured him! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">So many beautiful places to see, but I am compelled to return to visit Big Sur. To find a hidden hollow and without booze, or drugs or human company, confront the demons Kerouac put there for me!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">This has been on my mind for about 15 years. I don't know what exists there now. Don't know when I will be there, on the other side of a dying planet. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am watching the film right now as an actor speaks the ranting words I'd read years ago. Filling my head with the madness of the alcoholic author in the deathgrip of addiction, his soul clutching for hope too late.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is a rescue mission to find the man and chop a log for Jack.</span></span></div>
David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-26466972739505060822020-02-01T21:10:00.001+09:302020-02-02T10:28:56.990+09:30To the wallSaturday afternoon, miscalculation of plans... no plan, no idea, no patience.<div><br></div><div>I wasn't sure what to do, I did have chores and a responsibility to fulfill a commitment to a friend but I just wanted to fly.</div><div><br></div><div>Decided to go to the museum.</div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EZpzaq1lsxU/XjVjfUS-1hI/AAAAAAAAFnY/sPtxPbTPcHkvweCisIUz0K6BL5ikDnwOwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_204536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EZpzaq1lsxU/XjVjfUS-1hI/AAAAAAAAFnY/sPtxPbTPcHkvweCisIUz0K6BL5ikDnwOwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_204536.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="1838" data-original-height="2452" width="396" height="528" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><div><br></div><div>I totally recommend going, there are some really great exhibitions on at the moment. </div><div><br></div><div>A beautiful collection of art relating to space, moon and stars from a range of cultural and creative perspectives. (Worth visiting on its own)</div><div><br></div><div>There is a collection of indigenous and Macasan smoking pipes. </div><div>Smoking - The shameful vice of modern times, Lung cancer, chemicals, disease, anti social, obnoxious, imposition in public spaces, emphysema, broke poor, stupid expensive, death!</div><div><br></div><div>But, once an exquisite pleasure of the privileged elite, warriors, elders traders and pirates. In Arnhem Land this must have been more true than anywhere. </div><div><br></div><div>In Queenscliff I found this really old tobacco pipe in the shape of a Sultan's head and I thought, 'I want that'. I would smoke again with that in my hand and I'd imagine myself some time else. </div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wrp1fXC120s/XjYP9R2ZfBI/AAAAAAAAFoQ/3IezFlB8UP4_ku61a4OoLsJPSZztjTUJACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200112_163133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wrp1fXC120s/XjYP9R2ZfBI/AAAAAAAAFoQ/3IezFlB8UP4_ku61a4OoLsJPSZztjTUJACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200112_163133.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="3968" data-original-height="2976" width="568" height="426" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><div><br></div><div>The Sydney Nolan collection.</div><div>Although I was familiar with some of the paintings, seeing such a large collection I finally got the humor and the seriousness of this art. It is good!</div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1z84CfVXZiA/XjVjhdgfhQI/AAAAAAAAFnc/-bj25fpgu94K6OQs35y9MsqArutMVshCACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_135509.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1z84CfVXZiA/XjVjhdgfhQI/AAAAAAAAFnc/-bj25fpgu94K6OQs35y9MsqArutMVshCACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_135509.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="2976" data-original-height="3968" width="367" height="489" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><div><br></div><div>And the one that really grabbed me. A huge exhibition of Therese Richtchie's amazing work. </div><div><br></div><div>https://thereseritchie.com/</div><div><br></div><div>Now the exhibitions were all brilliant, but what capped it off for me was another one of those magical experiences. </div><div>So I've got my headphones on and I'm listening to my extensive collection of tunes on random play and wandering slowly through a room full of the most colourful, politically pertinent, outrageous and totally familiar creations. </div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RhOhZKxS_1U/XjVjiso_vbI/AAAAAAAAFng/qmnek1v8RGYe8m31Ik3Uqwi1OYOupmd6ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_130804_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RhOhZKxS_1U/XjVjiso_vbI/AAAAAAAAFng/qmnek1v8RGYe8m31Ik3Uqwi1OYOupmd6ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_130804_3.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="2976" data-original-height="3968" width="356" height="474" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><div><br></div><div>I'm feeling kind of elated, in a rapture of belonging and totally connecting with the images on the wall, I've got a warm fuzzy feeling and I'm looking at an image of a woman yelling at a line of NT coppers and Elvis Costello chimes in with a beautiful song 'Veronica' (look it up on YouTube, I can't embed it) before the song is over I glance down at the plaque...</div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XuBCBGKuWHA/XjVjkMVZyuI/AAAAAAAAFnk/Dw-2Mxa600cW6NXAtcJlWgAtJyjsMT9hwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_135729.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XuBCBGKuWHA/XjVjkMVZyuI/AAAAAAAAFnk/Dw-2Mxa600cW6NXAtcJlWgAtJyjsMT9hwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_135729.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="2339" data-original-height="3119" width="356" height="474" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><div><br></div><div>The lady's name is Veronica!</div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nUDmNzo_QGc/XjVjlrpltUI/AAAAAAAAFno/I5lNd65tGUUmDtL8xfyEMtQnxkse43PSgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_130718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nUDmNzo_QGc/XjVjlrpltUI/AAAAAAAAFno/I5lNd65tGUUmDtL8xfyEMtQnxkse43PSgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_130718.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="2976" data-original-height="3968" width="356" height="474" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><div><br></div><div>Nothing more I can say about that.</div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-psZW8vRTSys/XjYMwgtCOxI/AAAAAAAAFoE/1cXhxQ5zoLsdTGy1TKtPYSb_flQq9as_wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_131731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-psZW8vRTSys/XjYMwgtCOxI/AAAAAAAAFoE/1cXhxQ5zoLsdTGy1TKtPYSb_flQq9as_wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200201_131731.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="3968" data-original-height="2976" width="538" height="403" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div>Make life ART!</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-57303099203455949152020-01-24T22:53:00.001+09:302020-01-26T12:49:10.404+09:30Enlightened?<div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Vo45ZuM2L0w/XirvvH7rHKI/AAAAAAAAFm0/ZB0Et5TWLxsIA8kwYm0Ia9kOoxddu0vLACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200124_171442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Vo45ZuM2L0w/XirvvH7rHKI/AAAAAAAAFm0/ZB0Et5TWLxsIA8kwYm0Ia9kOoxddu0vLACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200124_171442.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="3968" data-original-height="2976" width="630" height="472" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><div><br></div><div>If I had something to say, surely I would have said it by now.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nMDbjY0qTCY/XirvweEh69I/AAAAAAAAFm4/_-jWIOdrJG0mC5x2o4ZMhM4PcqLACwrygCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200124_224916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nMDbjY0qTCY/XirvweEh69I/AAAAAAAAFm4/_-jWIOdrJG0mC5x2o4ZMhM4PcqLACwrygCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200124_224916.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="2275" data-original-height="2339" width="630" height="647" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br></div>David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-30906778028021073422020-01-23T21:04:00.001+09:302020-01-24T08:00:03.434+09:30Comes the rain<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Changing tides rush in and swamp our dusty feet in monsoon cool</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Wet windy crashing rotten tree</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fungi, Longrass misery</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Green grass towering, madness spreading Neighbours fighting</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">V8s sliding sideways through roundabouts and school crossings</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Nobody here to hear the commotion </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Flights south booked in advance</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Listening to a nut sing about the fishtraps and monsoon mushrooms and rice</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Turned the volume up full but I can't hear the tune for rain and wind and the vibrating walls of thunderclap sky.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Bloody January in Darwin!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">And a couple of snaps...</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Rude awakening</span></td></tr>
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David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-27447647078324680122020-01-20T15:56:00.000+09:302020-01-21T15:07:58.986+09:30A flutter in time<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">As a boy the future was vast and untouchable, tempting, full of mystery and promise...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">In my memory the known world of my own domain extended from my bedroom, to the back fence and toward the street but not across the road.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I went to pre-school and learned the way home, half a block, past the straggly mallee tree where the rock that looks like a turtle rests, waiting</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The street, from our house to the corner and the paddock across the road became my turf</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">On to primary school and I had a bike! I pushed the limits of what was permitted and rode beyond the field of my parents view. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I ventured to the creek at the end of the street where micro bats flew out of the pipes that carried water from under houses up the road. There were still turtles in the creek then, but the creek is now a drain.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">This was the time of my great expansion. The world began to open broadly before me, as far as I could travel before the street lights came on became open ground for discovery. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The horse paddocks of the Christian College, the wastelands of the proposed freeway, the derelict aquaduct all were my domain. A haunt for kids like me, proving ground for delinquency. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">We knew these places like the back of our hand. Smoking cigarettes and drinking pilfered wine, lighting fireworks and escaping marauding motocross bullies. We hunted rabbits, collected mushrooms and were always off fishing. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">By High School (Technical School) greater distances were traveled. Kids spent time at the mall, but the Plenty River became my second home. From Partington's Flat to Blue Lake every scrap of clay, all trees, every rock in the creek the weeds, the rabbits, the Redfin and eels, the stink of onion weed, the elusive maiden hair fern and swamp wallaby, the Rosellas and the sugar gliders, the floating pummis rock and the hidden shafts of old mines, the platypus, the echidna, the cow shit and the water troughs, the rusted tin shelter and the horses that follow my drunken self through the paddocks at night, all. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I got older cars and motorcycles took me far beyond my territory, by then I couldn't wait to get away, I had a wandering spirit and visited the gorge less every year.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Eventually I moved away but to the gorgeI always returned. Just for a visit, just to say hi and to ground myself in 'My' country.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Over the last couple of years it's been a great joy to see Wombats have reestablished their territory in the silty soil of the river flats. Rabbits diminished by a nasty virus. There has been an increase in native animal populations.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The invasive Rainbow Lorrikeet has appeared too and taken over many nesting hollows... Red-rumped parrots and Rosella's are now few. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mountain Bike riders discovered the gorge and have made many erosive tracks but the landscape has remained constant despite their intrusion. I haven't seen a platypus for a while the river is not as healthy as it was, but the general habitat has persisted and continued to support a diverse population of many species...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Until the fire...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now With all the ground cover gone the soil has turned to dust and as expected there has been torrential rain. Soil and ash will be swept into the river and choke everything... Yes given time the land can recover... unfortunately with global warming comes increased frequency of extreme weather events. Time for recovery will not be granted.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The brief period of my existence on this earth, spending time in, on, around the place we call Plenty River I have had the great privilege to know it intimately. I have been</span></span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"> a 'part of' it and it is a big part of me. When I walk on it I take off my shoes and I breathe it. I let the hard clay cut my feet and the coarse river sand get between my toes. The thorny wattles have scratched and pierced my skin, mud from the exposed hillside has entered my grazed knees and shins. This river valley has fed me and kept me. I am of it and I will always return. Though my life is a hollow flutter in time, may this gorge keep me my breath, and blood, dust and ash. Return me to the River let my cinders mingle there. </span></span></div>
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David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-33925474787757228252020-01-07T08:56:00.001+09:302020-01-07T08:56:17.270+09:30"In honour of our escaping""I'll tell you this<br style="max-height: 999999px; color: rgb(60, 64, 67); font-family: Roboto, HelveticaNeue, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">No eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn."<div><br></div><div>(Jim Morrison - The Wasp -Texas Radio and the Big Beat)</div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BhyFPgbTG3M/XhPCFOjQZaI/AAAAAAAAFjs/lDH5nq-skm8TJ1jcCplm1h98BKUopFW3wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20191212_185954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-BhyFPgbTG3M/XhPCFOjQZaI/AAAAAAAAFjs/lDH5nq-skm8TJ1jcCplm1h98BKUopFW3wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20191212_185954.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="3968" data-original-height="2976" width="590" height="442" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br></div>David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-13725030876752572442020-01-05T08:24:00.001+09:302020-01-05T21:27:00.252+09:30Loneliness<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">On my way across town this morning I rode past the Jingili water gardens.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">At the edge of the park on Freshwater drive there is a Friendship seat. It was installed not long after a local woman who many of us knew, took her life and the lives of her two children. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">It's so hard to tell what good such infrastructure can do. Many times I've ridden past that place feeling empty and alone. I've read the words and seen the chair sitting in the blazing sun and wondered what peace can be found there, sitting alone.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The messages embossed on the footpath are encouraging, supportive and clear, but without human connection they seem empty and almost taunting.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">How do we care for each other?</span></span></div>
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David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-24789817903914492702020-01-04T14:24:00.004+09:302020-01-04T14:33:38.181+09:30As our world ignites<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our country is burning, we saw it coming, it's been burning for years, now the flames are here. When we saw it coming we were shut up and ridiculed, outlawed and shamed.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now it is hear and we have nowhere to go. We have to live in this space and our hearts are torn to pieces, together, right and wrong, rich and poor. This land will not recover from the state it is in. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">If we do not change it will cease to support us and we will be wasted along with the billions of living things.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">As people flee from the ravaged landscape, losing their homes, groups are forming to help them find shelter. Refugees from our own country... maybe now we will see just how precious hospitality is. Maybe now we will have sympathy for Refugees...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I approach the final pages of the book I've been reading, I came across these lines. I leave them here as a prayer for peace, for the love of mankind and in thanks to the Gods who remind us always to cherish life.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">"The Greeks had a word, xenia - guest</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">friendship - a command to take care of traveling</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">strangers, to open your door to whoever is out there,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">because anyone passing by, far from home, might be </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">God. Ovid tells the story of two immortals who</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">came to Earth in disguise to cleanse the sickened</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">world. No one would let them in but one old couple,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Baucis and Philemon. And their reward for opening</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">their door to strangers was to live on after death as</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">trees - an oak and a linden - huge and gracious and</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">intertwined. What we care for, we grow to</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">resemble. And what we resemble will hold us, when</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">we are no longer..."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">(The Overstory by Richard Powers pp.620-621)</span></span></div>
David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-51244792711007517732020-01-03T16:26:00.001+09:302020-01-03T22:30:34.802+09:30Into the greyThere are some words and phrases that really bug me. One such word is 'segway' I hate it when people use that word.<div><br></div><div>Another one is 'juxtaposition'.</div><div><br></div><div>I don't know why I don't like those words. They serve a purpose, they have a meaning... like the word 'doppelganger' has a very specific meaning. Why do I cringe when I hear it? Is it because they're words I was late to learn? Do I harbor a secret subconscious resentment against people who knew the words before I learned their meaning? Ave they been overused by particular groups? </div><div><br></div><div>Anyway, this is not an attack on words, it's just a post about an interesting sight, and a photo.</div><div><br></div><div>As I was riding through the university grounds I had my eye on the Amazing storm clouds, while simultaneously checking out an Osprey nest at the to of the telephone tower...</div><div><br></div><div>Thought I'd take a photo for the memory and put my bike in the foreground... beside a couple of bins... with the engineering building at the base of the towers... </div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mVnettVNxOQ/Xg7lhmP-l8I/AAAAAAAAFiI/YIXeZPeP2PgK0LPks1hVhVXbpkRTdXytACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200103_160624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mVnettVNxOQ/Xg7lhmP-l8I/AAAAAAAAFiI/YIXeZPeP2PgK0LPks1hVhVXbpkRTdXytACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200103_160624.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="3968" data-original-height="2976" width="707" height="530" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br></td></tr></tbody></table></div></div><div><br></div><div>So what's it all about? The paradoxical convergence of a Wild raptor nest perched atop an icon of the modern age accompanied by an industrial building, in contrast with the uncontainable weather, which would soon deliver lightning that could be drawn to the tower, where the birds sit... while in the foreground, a machine of efficiency, parked by a bin, representing excess and waste.</div><div><br></div><div>'JUXTAPOSITION!'</div><div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B9JXr_InTgs/Xg7ljc2VPCI/AAAAAAAAFiM/W1PpjAUwA00NP9A9loUZz5WAzBnXWfcYgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200103_160651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B9JXr_InTgs/Xg7ljc2VPCI/AAAAAAAAFiM/W1PpjAUwA00NP9A9loUZz5WAzBnXWfcYgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_20200103_160651.jpg" border="0" data-original-width="2816" data-original-height="2174" width="707" height="546" class=" " title="" alt=""></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br></div>David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27459292.post-709789386868864992019-12-31T23:38:00.001+09:302019-12-31T23:38:05.873+09:30Last call<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Spellbound by music I saw my life unfold in the lyrics of my favorite songs.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">If I thought drugs or alcohol could enhance my emotional contact with the world then music was always part of the equation.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I never had the gift of a good voice or even a basic sense of rhythm, I didn't learn an instrument and couldn't dance but the feelings were intense and I committed totally to the experience... on the inside.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">When I became acquainted with the Dire Straits song 'Your Latest Trick' in the late 80s, the lyrics '<i>It's past last call for alcohol</i>', sent a chill down my spine, fear of running dry! The rush for last drinks was ingrained in my DNA. Threat of supply being cut off was a grim reality. The writing was well and truly on the wall for me for a long time before last call actually meant THE LAST CALL! </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I may have overshot my last call by a couple of years but, rock bottoms are like that, you get more chances to experience the worst, until the very end and there is nothing left but Korsakoff's or Death. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">I stepped off the train before it hit the wall.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="e24Kjd">On this day 24 years ago I was offered a second chance at life. I put my hand out and an opportunity was presented to me freely with a handshake. I was welcomed into an exclusive club and assured there are no fees! I'd already paid the price of admission!</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="e24Kjd"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="e24Kjd">Music was fundamental to my emotional survival as a drinker, it also created the matrix of my emotional vocabulary, how I related to the world was directly related to the music I listened to. Music was like a surrogate emotional coach. It was all highly emotive and lacked maturity, but the feels were strong.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="e24Kjd"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="e24Kjd">In sobriety I found I could no longer listen to much of the music I related to and relied on for many years. New tunes had to move into the space that bands like Pink Floyd occupied. At least until I had some time under my belt. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="e24Kjd">Someone introduced me to Ted Hawkins... Rough and Gritty in your face alcoholism and misery! As brutal as he was the music spoke to my sobriety. I got it. I discovered lots more music that related more to my recovery than to my addiction, music can be like that. You find meaning from listening, new connections are made, new understanding. A new reality.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="e24Kjd">Right around the corner tonight is a Latin band, with dancing girls... I may move that way some time. But tonight I am sitting in my own space, enjoying a healthy meal I made for myself. Sitting alone in my own space. Just feeling the simple joy of taking one sober breath after another and knowing that I could have missed the whole thing!</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="e24Kjd">Grateful for the comfort, grateful for the pain. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="e24Kjd">If we see each other in 2020, I'll save a smile for you, maybe we can play a new tune and with confidence take the next step that calls the living to dance. </span></span></span></span>David Jhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06041580123414270092noreply@blogger.com0