weekend squiggles

This squiggle of light appeared on my writing room wall one morning earlier this year. It has never returned.

I have had: cold symptoms sequencing in reverse to the norm, a meeting with a lady who can teach me Reiki, a quiet weekend, unusual bedtime reading material; motivation to do yet another purge and sort of my belongings, space clearing, rearranging the placement of my bed etc. I watched Mansfield Park and liked some occasions of its cinematography, ate apples and pasta strewn with tabasco sauce, circuited the gorge and didn't go to meditation.

I'm It!

Brita is my cousin. We talk well together. Have an understanding. And she tagged me.

What were you doing ten years ago?

Ten years ago I was living in North Hobart in a terribly old dark share house. Apparently it was once a notorious public house. It was on the corner of a major intersection. I had to bend my head to walk down a small tunnel to my bedroom. I had my 19^th birthday party there. My friend Scott climbed onto the roof of the lighting shop next door and plucked out the sequins of their gaudy signage. He spelt out LSD. Everyone used to comment on it for months after. In the end, I fell in love and hardly stayed there ever again. I was studying cello and english literature and drinking lots of red wine.

Five things to do today

Drive my son and a friend to St Peters Pass, retrieve my son’s bike from back of a friends car, print out a short story, keep warm warm and kick this cold’s arse, and later creep into the casino to hear Jeff Lang.

Three favourite snacks

Slice of pumpernickel with butter and jam

Bowl of pasta with parmesan and butter

An apple and a little brown paper bag of roasted mixed nuts

Four places you have lived

I have lived on two islands all of my life, I have lived in strange disjointed share houses each with one unusual, misplaced room that no one knew what to do with, I have lived in a four room cottage with four other people, a tiger snake and a rabbit, I have lived in a salubrious suburb in the only house that had a fire bath in the back garden made from tip-shop finds.

Five things you would purchase if you were a billionaire

I would buy a home with lots of remnant native vegetation and a separate studio, look after my loved ones and the balance would be divided into three: cultural, social and environmental donations.

Six people I want to know more about

This is the one where I seriously question my distinct lack of curiosity . . . the woman who has the wonderful pink sunroom with white chalk scribbles all over it and a wisteria vine drenching its window, the two sisters who walk this city incessantly, always in skirts, with matching vinyl handbags and wonderful wild hair, the story of the three men who have bought the house down the road and are renovating it as a group project, my great-grandmother who was born in England and adopted into a South African family, and the whereabouts and circumstances of my other great-grandmother’s disappearance with her only son c.1910.

And I shall tag: Danae Sinclair, Lingo Franko, Fuffenscheit, Idiom Zero

pleasant audible medium

have to say that this medium is a bit dried up of late, everything getting channeled into other containers

went to watch Sex & The City with my sister last night, mild air as we walked in, sharp as we left, I didn't see that movie, I hovered in front of it, laughed a couple of times, got wet in the eyes a couple of times, robotic emotions, but actually quite pleasant

woke this morning without a voice, have oiled it into audible with coffee, garlic, last night's paella

Meditation makes me as high as a kite

I had this dream a couple of nights ago, triggered I think by my drunken reading of Brida (I wasn't drunk but I read it so fast it made me feel sick) and then a meditation session.

I dreamed of meeting people who were travelling back through their past reincarnations. At one point I was in the round and tiny room of a tower and a woman was about to morph into the moment of her last death, mauled or suffocated by a lion. Myself and my unidentifiable companion glided onto the top of wardrobe to be out of the action. The physical point of reincarnation was the third eye and this could be identified by a small pus-y hole.

Meditation makes me as high as a kite.

And so I wonder at its addictiveness.

The architecture of writing is preoccupying me.

I am so looking forward to walking around a large city anonymously.