Would you believe it I managed to miss the eclipse the other night. There was an eclipse of the sun a few years ago and I was so excited it about it for weeks beforehand. Couldn't wait. Then, one afternoon I was indoors having a cleaning frenzy. It seemed to get quite dark all of a sudden so I just put on a few lights, thinking it was a bit odd. My friend got home a bit later and said wasn't it amazing, everything was so wierd and silent, blah blah rave rave.... The penny dropped and the realisation that I had been brandishing the vacuum cleaner in a bad mood while in the middle of a cosmic event was a shock I still haven't quite got over.
Yesterday I had to give a presentation in the Literary Journalism course on George Orwell's book, The Road to Wigan Pier. The previous two days had seen me struggling in front of the screen, constantly hitting the word count button trying to boost the total to 1200. I enjoyed reading the book but how hard it is to put the thoughts in order and then find words for those thoughts. In the evening I read a bit more of Alice in Wonderland because I feel I ought to - I am not sure if I have ever read it all before. The copy I have is really cheap and doesn't have any pictures. I don't know what happened to the blue hardback I used to have.
My next door nieghbour flew out to India on Sunday for a six week sojourn. I suddenly realised how much I would miss her. A couple I have sat a couple of silent meditation retreats with have moved in while she is away. On one level I feel I know them well but not on the level of every day chit chat and running in and out of each others houses with tidbits of idle gossip, extra soup we've cooked, cups of tea and the occasional muffin.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
ecstasy on the edge
Yesterday was- Bob Day- Bob Dylan was in town and I, oh how blessed can one be, went to see him. All day I was thinking about him actually being here in Perth, somewhere. The day was tinged with his presence. They were playing him in New Editions when I popped in on the way to pay the rent. At the bank the girl behind the counter asks the dreaded question, "have you got much planned for the rest of the day"* - and for once I had something to report - "YES , I'm going to see Bob Dylan tonight". By that stage I wanted to shout it from the rooftops and bore everyone I met. "I thought he was dead" she said as she stamped my paying-in book. "God I hope not", I said, "it won't make for a very interesting evening". Blimey where do people get their information.
The expedition to the Burswood Dome was launched by my next door nieghbour A. and our mutual male friend P. A. knocks on my door brandishing a glass of wine while I am still in the throws of choosing an outfit. She is flying off for a six week sojourn in India on Sunday and getting her life in order so that she can leave it all behind. Her and Freddie get comfortable on my bed and she discourses on her dramas as I put the finishing touches to my face and dab myself liberally with the patchouli oil.
We pick up P. and are off up the Canning Highway like demented groupies.
We braved the horrors of queuing for a park and hustled our way into the dome - which must be the worst venue in the southern hemisphere not to say the world. Anyone who has been there will know that it may be perfect to watch a tennis championship but as a rock venue it sucks bigtime. We had consigned P. to the ticket buying and found that the stage represented a vague shape on the far horizon. Luckily though I had my Dad's trusty binoculars with me and with their help Bob, when he arrived, in all his majesty, was visible as well as audible.
The show was amazing, he was amazing, the songs were amazing and right at the end during the encore the crowd finally rushed the red shirted attendants who were ever vigilant to keep us in our place and oh well, there he was, there we were and it couldn't have been more perfect. He actually looked like he was enjoying himself and in the end came out in front of the audience and raised his arms pointing his hands skywards - unheard of!
*not quite as bad as; "Hows your day going, are you keeping busy?".....Busy; a concept I try to avoid - but try and explain that to a bankteller.
The expedition to the Burswood Dome was launched by my next door nieghbour A. and our mutual male friend P. A. knocks on my door brandishing a glass of wine while I am still in the throws of choosing an outfit. She is flying off for a six week sojourn in India on Sunday and getting her life in order so that she can leave it all behind. Her and Freddie get comfortable on my bed and she discourses on her dramas as I put the finishing touches to my face and dab myself liberally with the patchouli oil.
We pick up P. and are off up the Canning Highway like demented groupies.
We braved the horrors of queuing for a park and hustled our way into the dome - which must be the worst venue in the southern hemisphere not to say the world. Anyone who has been there will know that it may be perfect to watch a tennis championship but as a rock venue it sucks bigtime. We had consigned P. to the ticket buying and found that the stage represented a vague shape on the far horizon. Luckily though I had my Dad's trusty binoculars with me and with their help Bob, when he arrived, in all his majesty, was visible as well as audible.
The show was amazing, he was amazing, the songs were amazing and right at the end during the encore the crowd finally rushed the red shirted attendants who were ever vigilant to keep us in our place and oh well, there he was, there we were and it couldn't have been more perfect. He actually looked like he was enjoying himself and in the end came out in front of the audience and raised his arms pointing his hands skywards - unheard of!
*not quite as bad as; "Hows your day going, are you keeping busy?".....Busy; a concept I try to avoid - but try and explain that to a bankteller.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Falling off the edge
This is it - my very first post from the edge. The main concern at the moment is the fear of falling into the abyss - becoming homeless - all the insecurity made it difficult to be a confident blogger since setting up this blog. Of course I am being a bit melodramatic, it's just that my landlords; a couple; have decided to split up and this dear little house that is ideal for myself and Freddie may have to be split up as well - and as yet I don't exactly know what that may mean but it does bring up fear and insecurity about my tenancy. Oh well, I am getting used to it now.....more opportunity to live in the moment. The thought of packing up and moving my books though does not fill me with excitement - I like them where they are, neatly arranged on their shelves.
Let me describe this home of two years. For a start it is in the most desirable of locations - walking distance from Freo and an easy walk to Booyembarra park where Freddie and I step out each morning. The dwelling is a one bedroom unit in a block of three (a triplex) and my nieghbours are single women like myself - and my next door nieghbour is a friend of thirty years. When I moved from a flat to this house I wanted two things - a garden and a dog! I did a visualisation of the type of place I wanted and this little place came very close - I even imagined a little fish pond -there is one just outside the backdoor. The rooms are very basic but the front window faces north so I get all the lovely winter sun. I have covered the walls with artwork mostly painted by my family. The bookshelves take up much of the wall space - a friend was here at the weekend and she said I would soon be needing a new bookshelf as they are overspilling somewhat. I said -no room-.......she looked around for a minute and said -the ceiling is a bit under-utilized-. Living in a space like this is comfortably cluttered and cosy - my desk looks out into the garden where I have gone crazy with flowers. When I moved in I splashed out on a Kilim rug which gives the room a bit of class.
Let me describe this home of two years. For a start it is in the most desirable of locations - walking distance from Freo and an easy walk to Booyembarra park where Freddie and I step out each morning. The dwelling is a one bedroom unit in a block of three (a triplex) and my nieghbours are single women like myself - and my next door nieghbour is a friend of thirty years. When I moved from a flat to this house I wanted two things - a garden and a dog! I did a visualisation of the type of place I wanted and this little place came very close - I even imagined a little fish pond -there is one just outside the backdoor. The rooms are very basic but the front window faces north so I get all the lovely winter sun. I have covered the walls with artwork mostly painted by my family. The bookshelves take up much of the wall space - a friend was here at the weekend and she said I would soon be needing a new bookshelf as they are overspilling somewhat. I said -no room-.......she looked around for a minute and said -the ceiling is a bit under-utilized-. Living in a space like this is comfortably cluttered and cosy - my desk looks out into the garden where I have gone crazy with flowers. When I moved in I splashed out on a Kilim rug which gives the room a bit of class.
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