Ha! Brought memories flooding back. The Silence of the Western Freeway. Sitting wearing my dressing gown on the pavement outside on a chilly dawn on Anzac Day 2020 with an artificial candle listening to the dawn service and waving to the neighbours across the road. Calculating the distance to my best friend’s place at the Sunny Coast to see if it was outside the perimeter allowed (it was). Rat-hunting. Going for daily walks around the neighbourhood and crossing the road if someone was coming the other way. Becoming addicted to watching the eagles, then later the bears on Explore.org. The weirdness of cueing one time at the roadblock at the Gold Coast border to show a bit of paper. Watching the ponytail guy on the daily briefings. Etc…
It reminds me of studying HS English at night school in Brisbane. We had to read excerpts of novels and poetry. And to get us to used to looking for metaphors it was things like Tolstoy , Dostoevsky and Ken Kesey. I just couldn't make the mental leap about sadness, depression and Russian winters and it was mostly because I was living in paradise where I never got cold and it wasn't damp New Zealand. Unfortunately the long dark tea time of the soul occurs often in Tasmania.
Sure, I mean not "A" material, but in those strange days this would have easily landed well
Ha! Brought memories flooding back. The Silence of the Western Freeway. Sitting wearing my dressing gown on the pavement outside on a chilly dawn on Anzac Day 2020 with an artificial candle listening to the dawn service and waving to the neighbours across the road. Calculating the distance to my best friend’s place at the Sunny Coast to see if it was outside the perimeter allowed (it was). Rat-hunting. Going for daily walks around the neighbourhood and crossing the road if someone was coming the other way. Becoming addicted to watching the eagles, then later the bears on Explore.org. The weirdness of cueing one time at the roadblock at the Gold Coast border to show a bit of paper. Watching the ponytail guy on the daily briefings. Etc…
The Outsider by Albert Camus
My mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I don't know, the government is shite at these updates.
Stations of the Tide
The bureaucrat fell from the Sky with his supply of sanitizer in his hands.
It reminds me of studying HS English at night school in Brisbane. We had to read excerpts of novels and poetry. And to get us to used to looking for metaphors it was things like Tolstoy , Dostoevsky and Ken Kesey. I just couldn't make the mental leap about sadness, depression and Russian winters and it was mostly because I was living in paradise where I never got cold and it wasn't damp New Zealand. Unfortunately the long dark tea time of the soul occurs often in Tasmania.
Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic sinus headache and rasping cough.
Ah, that takes me back...
Made me laugh on a despairing UK news day. Thankyou JB.