A dream and reality

Somewhere on the North Coast, a bit inland after we turned off at the hamburger joint.

It was some sort of arts center and a few people knew me. To my surprise I was there to install in a group show and there were various artists already putting their work together. I’d just arrived and was going around saying hi to them and getting their names, they knew me, but I didn’t know them…I mean they really knew me, but I couldn’t recognize them. It seemed like everyone I was meeting kept changing their appearance, and they were all friendly and laughing although I couldn’t recall their names even though they had just told me.
The police and emergency services people were there, and everyone was chipping in. It wasn’t a conventional gallery, more like a community hall, with a touch of kindergarten thrown in. Out the back was a storage room with all sorts of animals in cages. I was watching a mouse run on it’s treadmill, but it was a Stuart Little style mouse, running upright with a jumpsuit, and a camera attached to it’s back. It was transmitting video of it’s movements to a video monitor outside the cage, it was fascinating and I couldn’t stop watching. There was a giftshop near by, and there was an upturned aquarium with a reptile inside it, which crawled out and spoke to me, it was a bit threatening, and I was taken aback but the people around were re-assuring me. I liked their tender smiles and warmth.
Once the Emergency personnel started leaving and saying their goodbyes there were lots of tears and hugs. I was part of the mellee and telling them that we would see each other again and set up a hostel for us ‘creative types’ with no beige or cream walls, I assume we were talking about a retirement village where we could all partake.

Birch tree leaves
I have had the wondrous opportunity to observe birch tree leaves this season.
At the Cooks River, some weeks ago I passed a patch of birch trees growing tall and took a small branch home with me. I was delighted by the muted colour of the mild green leaf, backed by a pale blanket of felt. Time passed and the green has turned a rich dark chocolate brown, and the white seems even frostier and more velvety. What’s more is how the twig has new growth shooting from it’s tip, fresh green stock erupting out of it like an ejaculation.
I can’t help think this is synonymous with my life at the moment. Just taking the time to witness this transition is important to me, and the value of this process, to go from soft to hard, to change colour with death, and to still retain value in both states, and increased value in the alteration of states.

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Last full moon of 2010

An eclipse was reported so we went down to Bronte cemetery to watch, but because of the cloud coverage there was scarcely a trace, except for the blonde light coming through. We watched on, and finally the moon started to make its way out of the clouds, or through them, and it was so unexpected like a giant iris in the sky, staring out magically. I had a view in mind, of the lip of moon exiting the horizon line, but it was altogether different, and therefore a surprise. So much more subtle and moody, the filtering of diffusional light. A big lit up ship daintily sauntered by and I felt all at peace with the world for having such a sight before me, and the fortune to enjoy it. Those people on the ship would’ve had such a view!
For the first time I appreciated the fact that the moon is not a light source in its own right, I am nearly 45 years old and have taken so much for granted. I’ve always known that it was reflecting the sun back, but that night I fully felt it inside me, that we were watching a device mirroring the mighty sun. How complex, this strikes me as, and how vital to our entire existence! I thought about the complexities of humans and our intrigue with mirrors, and tangents of philosophy, and no wonder! As we thrive in this world where our days and nights and tidal flows are guided by these separate forces we have no control over, it makes sense that life is paradoxical, and this intrigues us.

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Copper tresses

Yesterday at Central station a homeless woman was sitting on the ground near the entrance of the country terminal. She had two big JB Hifi plastic bags with her and as I was smoking a cigarette I noticed her going through her things, as you do. She had a framed photograph of someone she loved, a bladder of vino and miscellaneous whatnot.
The sadness on her face was aching, with this beautiful shining long coppery hair blowing in the wind. It looked silky and glowing in the sun, I had truly never seen hair that colour before. I felt I just had to reach out to her and ask her how she was doing, and tell her how I was admiring her hair, and she lit up with such a gladness, of not being ignored but being part of the world around her. She said she had just had it done, and thanked me for the compliment. I felt glad I had spoken to her, as I had hesitated but then thought, that’s the world I want to live in, where strangers do reach each other and we are sharing this ground.

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Sound waves

Queenstown MotelSo we were sitting at a restaurant and unable to hear what was being said around the table for all the noise being made by a group of drunk and rowdy women. Screaming and laughing and enjoying themselves thoroughly, but so disruptive to our conversation and to my precious ears! On many occasions that has been me, I am certain…I am loud, excitable and when drinking have no self control. I was so glad to get home to the calm presences and quiet, away from the ear-drumming caustic noise.
Last night we were going past a pub at 6pm and the roar of men’s voices was furious, resembling battle cries and wholehearted rampaging. I wonder which is worst, the men’s or the women’s abilities to pierce air and penetrate my brain.
I was always told not to let sounds get to you, or they would! What does that mean? I suppose if you are consciously hating a sound you are more aware of it when it re-occurs, and I have seen myself halt and wait for the follow-up sound, in a hush, straining to hear it…ridiculous.
I saw a programme about the noise torture devices at Guantanamo Bay, and I think this may have prompted this blog on noise. It is a sense that cannot be shut out and can penetrate your mental health and make life miserable. I recall having a studio next door to some cretins in the past who hated us and would put the Sound of Music on repeat before leaving the complex, a particularly odious act which I could never forgive them for. Not that I had ever liked the music to start with, it was just insidious and cruel.
Now that I have a dog I am aware of the sound quotient he detects in our lives and the tone of my voice, let alone volume in convincing him that things are ok, or to be alert for. But he still doesn’t come when he is called!

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Stinky pits

My new dog, Takara, who appreciates odours of all descriptions.

I adore the smells my body makes. Not all of them, and not all the time, but some of them are so engrossing, I inhale deeply and am fascinated by my own odour.
Today I had a shower then went to the gym. Within half an hour my armpits were busily exuding their sweat and whenever I got a whiff I was delighted. It was deep and rich and earthy. People mention that you can smell garlic on someone who eats alot of it, but I’ve never gotten the faintest trace of the smell, it is just me, or my bacteria to be more exacting.
I took another shower, and got back to zero, but within seconds my familiar odour began protruding again. Sadly, there aren’t many other people’s body odour that I am compelled to smell. However, my lover’s pits are sweet, he never wears deodorant, and admittedly after a hard day’s work, I am not attracted, but after showering I love it.
My pussy has it’s own odour that I confess to adoring. No-one wants to talk about these things, which I find odd, as they are us. This is what we are, chemistry, biology, matter. I don’t hang about crotch sniffing, but when I get a whiff, I’m entranced by the musky, rich, familiar and clean odour…it is me!

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Water baby

THAT day

After a great deal of stress I had the opportunity to immerse myself in Mother Ocean, down at Bondi a couple of weeks ago. I am still reminiscing about the gigantic sensory beauty of that initial dunking, as it was The Most Fantastic feeling I’ve ever had.
The water was pretty cold, and it took me about ten minutes to get in, but once in, it was incredible. For nearly a minute I felt an all over body orgasm, which isn’t the right word, but there is no equivalent giant sensation, of stress flooding out of me, and being washed deliciously and deliriously clean. I felt transcendental, almost out of body (yet clearly within), and was flooded by goodness, by greatness, by a satiation I have never experienced before.
Maybe it is worthwhile to experience huge stress, just so you can convert it into beauty.
Anyhow, I thought I’d share it retrospectively, as it was one of the most amazing moments of physical sensation I have ever experienced.

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Later in life

I love gardenias and pick them incessantly at this time of year from my neighbour’s gardens. I’ve tried growing them, but failed dismally. They smell so good, and the fragrance will fill a room for days, even when they have gone yellow. I really like the yellow colour more than the original white, it reminds me of bones. The scent reminds me of coconuts, but I wonder if that has to do with the suntan creams that may have essential oils in them.
I adore the smell of tea, as I have written before. It has such a crisp fragrance when loose, and once brewed, I find the smell altered. I like the smell of tea on the breath, and wonder why there aren’t tea flavoured breath fresheners available. I’ve found green tea mints, but not black tea. Who decided that mint was the freshest scent for breath fresheners? Sure, its okay, but there are so many other smells more enriching. Maybe it is a more successful masker. I remember reading that if you couldn’t brush your teeth, the next best thing was to eat strawberries. Yum. I haven’t had a really good strawberry in years though.
Speaking of masking, I am incredulous at the display of jacarandas this season. There is an avenue I cycle along that is lined with full blown trees. My eyes are filled with the lavender haze, and I can’t believe the quality of the colour. I know when watching the Tour de France, when they go through the lavender growing areas the camera almost can’t capture this elusive colour, it looks like it is being blurred out. When I am cycling along I get the sense of an invisibility of the blossoms. I was trying to describe it, and I could only come up with the term ‘cloaking’. I wonder if I am alone in this visual context. I guess we are so accustomed to seeing greenery on trees that when confronted by the lilac violence, it is a shock to the eyes. I really wish I had more colour like this in my wardrobe. I especially like the contrast between jacarandas and liquid ambers. But I don’t like the scent, it reminds me of cat’s piss.

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When it comes to seeing

I have always had very good sight, I have wished for an Olympic event that could prove my award winning status. Alas, with ageing I am beginning to need more magnification, but am still reluctant to face the optometrist and expensive glasses.
I once lost my sight after a concussion for about 8 hours there was nothing going through the visual tubes, when I was 16. Gladly this hasn’t re-occurred, but it’s scare lead me not to take it for granted.
I have long been fascinated by those born blind and how they experience the world. I wonder at their fears, that aren’t visually based. For instance, are they scared of spiders? I know I am naive and I am sure there must be books on the subject, but I haven’t read any. I saw a film called Black Sun where an artist was blinded in a horrible attack and he describes the process of recovering his life after such a devastating loss. It is very good, and brings up amazing realisations.
Sometimes I do yoga with my eyes shut, but need to see my alignment to check on correct procedures…but I enjoy the dark closedness I feel in my interior when my eyes are shut. I wonder about visually impaired people and their interaction with the world if they don’t have such an ennormous clue base feeding their brains at a thousand miles a second. I have seen extreme sports where the blind have a guide, and I am thinking I wouldn’t try that course even with my eyes taped open, but extremes challenges are sought after for many reasons.

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Under the sky and over the sea

I have been very lucky to be taken to the beach yesterday and today, early in the morning by the great Jane. The water is still cold, but after a walk, I can’t resist a quick dip. What struck me was the footprints on the sand, I am so used to seeing shoe prints on the ground that when I realised I was stepping on only footprints, it made me laugh. It is such an elemental symbol of our presence, for as long as humans have been around, these prints litter the earth. Cute little toes and heels, stretching the length of the course, until washed away. All sizes, but all essentially the same.
I am feeling strong and instead of letting the waves push me, I push them, I coral the water with all my strength backwards. It is a face off, and there are no winners, I just absorb that energy and it pushes me, thrills me and elates me. Of course I would lose the battle, if there was one, I just like to demonstrate my force!
We have finally a new government, and I am thrilled it is not that evil Tony Abbot. Let them serve us. Politics have finally become interesting here, but I just see the waste, the policies that are reneged upon, the changes between parties and all the infrastructure required to adapt. Get the job done you fuckers. Show some progress, lead inspirationally and show some fucking vision please. There is a chance this country could be really a great leader in alternatives, let us not just kowtow to middle of the road policies, but leap forward!!!

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Massive wind today, I can hear it howling through the trees and around the eaves. It makes the trees dance! I am glad we are not bushwalking today as it would be fully dangerous. Last month I was waiting at the train station and heard a giant crack and this massive branch from a gumtree came hurtling down into the middle of the road, no-one was around but me to witness it, and all I could think was if there had been someone on the road, it would’ve killed them.
So it is rattling the objects near my front door, and shaking the fragile pieces on the table. Such energy. It seems to be blowing away all the foul smells that have accumulated in the house, I am so glad.
I hear the little birds piping up for whatever they are peeping for, clinging onto their respective branches, tweeting interminably. I hate mynahs, their incessant noise makes me crazy sometimes, and I try to ignore it, or drown it out with music…
Leaves are drifting in under the door!
Wind is movement, at times it can feel harassing, like it tumbles the thoughts around in my brain, but sometimes it gives me energy and I feel empowered by it, I hope today is one of those days, give me strength!

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