Flotsam on the Clyde

February 20, 2017 § Leave a comment

Yesterday a walk on the shores of the Clyde River at Helensburg, waters which feed into the firth of Clyde. There were many mussel shells, empty and brittle, cracking beneath foot, creating smaller pieces still on their way to sand. Lots of detritus, industrial, from the maritimes. Sea glass, all shades of green that I could see.

Inspired by shapes here, voids, the nesting of items together and items out of their natural element. The colours muted, with gradients. I like the idea of slipways. The idea of boueys adrift, unanchored. What is it to be ‘unanchored’ or set adfrift? Cast away, come loose?  Unsecure, lost, lost at sea. Never making it to sea.




February 24, 2013 § Leave a comment


I have a lot of rebuilding to do. Dealing with my own negativity and fear, become more driven, positive, use my time well, work. Then to be better for others. Be truthful, respectful, loving. Build people up. Dont let my fear control or dictate how I interact with others. I had a bad dream last night that made me think a lot about how I want to be as a person in love and how I will be remembered by others – in this life or the next. That I want to move people, touch their hearts, but never scar them. How I can ask for forgiveness but can never expect it.

I want to walk along this jetty with you and sit at the end of it and tell you my fears and my dreams, and I want to hear yours. Look you in the eyes, hold your hand and be present with you.

I have a lot of rebuilding to do, and I am not too proud.

January 14, 2013 § 1 Comment

Everything feels cloudy. Feeling out of place. The cold, the relative intensity of the season. Facing a lot of mirrors, maybe learning more about my failings than strengths. The turn in the weather is making my bad ankle swell, ache. It is quiet here in the suburbs. Sleeping in a single bed, reminders of holidays spent in mildura and with my nana and papa. The rooms void of a person, so things like a lamp or wallpaper loom large. The closed in porch. The nightmares about robots in the walls. The side of the house with forgotten plant trestles and empty pots. The large water tower. Here it is a cul de sac. Everyone has lights. I feel very lonely.


January 14, 2013 § Leave a comment

In some areas it sounds high pitched, soft and constant where it falls from a gutter or building siding, then it is the insistent pattering on a skylight, and the rounded drumming on the metal roofing. When you ride through it, the sound is a splat splat on your raincoat hood and the wet divide of the bike wheel through a puddle. Over and under everything is the hush of rain on a lake, white noise, replacing all your thoughts.

January 14, 2013 § Leave a comment

And then she starts to cry and she cannot stop so they beat her and she is crying and it is loud and she won’t stop and that’s why they beat her. She keeps to herself mostly and she is named for her favorite song as she cannot remember her own name. She cries on the floor and stairs while they beat her with sticks. Later she looses the paint from her pocket and they laugh and lie to her. She looks like a boy it is safer that way. Stand over there. No, over there. Don’t disturb the people.

What is the obstacle? What is the warning?

January 14, 2013 § Leave a comment

1. I don’t know if I can imagine three months alone in a strange land, carting sand from one end to the other. Shuffling a pathway (pilgrimage) through the snow, casting it, and then recreating it, that journey, that path, for others to follow. A map which can be laid on any floor. A portable hole.

2. Standing at the edge. I was at Bondi Beach in Sydney once and I walked out into the waves when I felt the sea floor below me give way and plunge into the beginning of the great deep. No more solid land to make you feel safe, land that can be walked back to shore, back across the sand, back across the road and then as far as you need to go before you reach home.

3. In a strange car at night on an unfamiliar road the kind where the bitumen rounds off on to grass, rocks and then trees. No houses about, headlights. A black cat crosses the highway and someone else in the car says ‘was that a cat’ and you say ‘yes’.

4. Hiding places. For physical things, for thoughts, for secrets.

5. A stream that is small enough to cross. A river that is too big.

6. The creek was cool and running fast. We laid our drinks and milk in the creek to cool them down. Further up the creek the water rushes over a crevice of rocks and you can shimmy up them, sit and wedge yourself in and the water flows over the rock to your lap.

7. A stranger who opens your window. Noises outside.

8. 25840 tonne icebreaker forging a path through sheer brute force. The sea flows where it shouldn’t. But we made it through.


January 14, 2013 § Leave a comment

sometimes I really want to go and live in an abandoned bus or some other remote outpost in the wilderness ala into the wild. concrete jungle or actual jungle? this city is very isolating, and i remember how i felt first moving to berlin, wild and alone and very very sad all the time. in canada last time i just wandered around a lot by myself. can it be exciting to be very alone? thats kind of how i feel. i forgot to pack some books and left them in au and its making me sad. some sort of travel funk mixed with general anxiety. i like being able to look down new york streets and its just skyscrapers to the horizon. i get scared i will fall down a subway grille. it will be hotter in the south. louder in vegas, and at the grand canyon i may get altitude sickness again. only two photos on my film camera so far – from the boeing on the way to la, one man saw me intently focussing and said ‘whats out there’ and i said ‘the tops of clouds which you don’t often see’. he nodded and then started stretching. in the wild i wouldn’t have to answer questions but my own.

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