back. in. alice.
how many posts have i started like that? i keep leaving this town and coming back to it in various states of delight and deflation. after the rollercoaster of festivals where i waved around copies of The Diamond Anchor and smiled hopefully at potential readers, it's time to strap myself back into whatever reality i have left and see if it will still fly.
saturday was monster truck night, which i and a few mates watched from the hill behind where i live, as the speedway happens to be my next door neighbour. the v8s had been going vroomvroom on and off since thursday, so the novelty had worn off somewhat by the time the actual circuit happened, and there were only three monster trucks, and none of them crashed. they did drop a ford from a crane though. and set a few things on fire. that was satisfying.
while i was up there with one of my landmates in the afternoon a coronary arrest waiting to happen yelled 'go uranium' at us from his ute tray. we thought we were dressed quite normally. oh, this town just kills me with poisoned-water-table hilarity.
yesterday was the solstice, a time for intense life examination and letting go of the twelvemonth's accumulated baggage, which i appropriately spent scraping pleistocene grime out of the kitchen and repainting the walls in ultra-clean ceiling white until i started to feel like a psychotic bride. thinking about all the things i've done and been through since this time last year gave me vertigo. that could have been the paint fumes. i keep having those moments of 'excuse me, how did this become my life?' but i have always had a tenuous relationship with reality, so it is probably just a matter of finding my level again. moving whitegoods around seems to help.
housekeeping aside, it's back to the nine-to-five grind of the DSN, which i'm hoping to have editor-ready by the time my grant runs out in november. ever optimistic. i was starting to have nightmares in sydney that i hadn't written a word, so it's probably about time i was back at my desk. it is a little like flying, in dreams at least. if you stop and realise what a strange thing this is you are doing, you start to go into freefall.
i had better head back into that nice soft cumulus.
how many posts have i started like that? i keep leaving this town and coming back to it in various states of delight and deflation. after the rollercoaster of festivals where i waved around copies of The Diamond Anchor and smiled hopefully at potential readers, it's time to strap myself back into whatever reality i have left and see if it will still fly.
saturday was monster truck night, which i and a few mates watched from the hill behind where i live, as the speedway happens to be my next door neighbour. the v8s had been going vroomvroom on and off since thursday, so the novelty had worn off somewhat by the time the actual circuit happened, and there were only three monster trucks, and none of them crashed. they did drop a ford from a crane though. and set a few things on fire. that was satisfying.
while i was up there with one of my landmates in the afternoon a coronary arrest waiting to happen yelled 'go uranium' at us from his ute tray. we thought we were dressed quite normally. oh, this town just kills me with poisoned-water-table hilarity.
yesterday was the solstice, a time for intense life examination and letting go of the twelvemonth's accumulated baggage, which i appropriately spent scraping pleistocene grime out of the kitchen and repainting the walls in ultra-clean ceiling white until i started to feel like a psychotic bride. thinking about all the things i've done and been through since this time last year gave me vertigo. that could have been the paint fumes. i keep having those moments of 'excuse me, how did this become my life?' but i have always had a tenuous relationship with reality, so it is probably just a matter of finding my level again. moving whitegoods around seems to help.
housekeeping aside, it's back to the nine-to-five grind of the DSN, which i'm hoping to have editor-ready by the time my grant runs out in november. ever optimistic. i was starting to have nightmares in sydney that i hadn't written a word, so it's probably about time i was back at my desk. it is a little like flying, in dreams at least. if you stop and realise what a strange thing this is you are doing, you start to go into freefall.
i had better head back into that nice soft cumulus.
subscribe
5 Comments:
You are a fabulous writer. Even this quick post is full of life, energy and momentum. Captures a real sense of place, physcial and cultural and emanates a kind of wry intelligence. A stellar career in waiting, no doubt.
*shucks*
...i did not write that comment myself, honestly.
Well, I read it three times now Jenjen and I reckon I'm right and I don't reckon there's one person in the country is gonna disagree with me, haha, because it is true, you are a fabulous writer. I'll shut up again now.
and yourself, sir. i've duly added your fine blog to my reading list.
i suspect you are right about no-one disagreeing with you, but only because i certainly won't, and it's likely no-one else is here :)
I'm here too, but I don't disagree :)
Post a Comment
<< Home