Tales of Jim and Sam: Questions.

Taken from my Pinterest.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Only if you tell me why you always ask me if you can ask me a question."

She laughed, a little shyly, "Iuno... I spose it's because I like hearing the response. The different way that someone answers the same question intrigues me. Perhaps I like giving you a little bit of warning that something's coming, that the mood's about to change. Or maybe I just like to have permission..."

He smiled at her. She thought he smiled knowingly.

"Can I ask you the question now?"

"Go for it."

"Why... why did you follow me out of that club?"

Highway.

Some of you might remember the last post I wrote about Jim and Sam. Well, I realised it's been a long time since I've shared any of their story, and so I decided to give you the next paragraph of the last tidbit - a chapter which I have since entitled 'Highway'.


The heat of the bitumen scorched Jim's feet as he walked down the highway, his gait slow and hinting towards the feeling of pointlessness that had engulfed him. The overcast grey sky and the muted green, grey and brown of the native shrubs that shrouded the edges of the highway suited his mood, if only that sunlit patch of cloud would disappear.

As he stared down the cloud, he began to walk faster, willing it to disappear, to leave him alone. And as he walked faster, his mood changed. Jim began to see red - he was furious. It built up slowly, his parents, the mirror, his school, Sam, although how he came into it Jim wasn't quite sure. From one part of his life to another and there seemed to be something wrong with all of it, until he couldn't avoid it any more. The one thing that was really pissing him off, that made him walk out of his house and somehow end up on this highway which smelt a little of the exhaust left behind by speeding cars, and a little of the pungent trees that lined it...

*   *   *   *   *   *

I'm always nervous posting these little bits of writing online. Or showing anyone at all, actually. Even though I've never run down a highway, it is still very personal. In this post, I mentioned that my words are my sanity, and even though I'm not finding the times so tough right now, this still holds true. I want to put more of it on, but I have to wait for it to be right and often I'm never quite sure if it's ready yet. It's so conflicting!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it :) I will post the rest of it soon I hope, I just need to fix up the next little bit, because it doesn't sound quite right yet.

And now just for fun, here are some photos of my day, which has really been quite rad :)

Some of the raddest people out, not to mention they make the best coffee in Perth.
Read my review of their coffee here.

Letting me pretend I'm a barista.

A note from a great friend.

Helping my cousin with his homework,
and re-remembering the horrors of the English language.

Being nerdy and getting overexcited about politics books.

Anyhow, it is almost 1am, and I need to be up at 6.30, so with that, I am going to ignore the insomniac within and attempt to sleep. Hope you're all having a grand day/night. 

Over and out

Rhi xx

On walking, the new year, and a guy who makes great coffee...

The heat of the bitumen scorches Jim's feet as he walks down the highway, his gait slow and hinting towards the feeling of pointlessness that had engulfed him. The overcast grey sky and the muted green, grey and brown of the native shrubs that shrouded the edges of the highway suited his mood, if only that sunlit patch of cloud would disappear. It was too hopeful...

Photo courtesy of Timothy Lock Photography,
A man who not only takes rad photos, but also makes some fantastic coffee at the Fremantle Markets
You should go and try one sometime, and ask him what he got up to in Scotland while you're at it

I've been writing little tidbits about Jim and Sam lately, but I only ever seem to be able to write a few sentences at a time before it becomes forced (the little bit above this is yesterday's effort). Does anyone have any suggestions for curing writer's block? My personal opinion is that some time lying on the ocean floor staring at the sun would help, but until this dratted sling comes off that's not an option. Oh well, only one more week! :D

On a more cheery note, buon anno! I hope you all have a fantastic night and make the most of the year ahead. I'm not big on New Year's resolutions, but this year I have thought of one - make it through the year without having surgery :P Wish me luck!

They're so rad :D

Backlog: Dreaming of an Endless Summer

The weather is so beautiful today. Summer is here - or at least, Spring is :P And this song shall be its anthem :) I love these dudes - I love that you can hear their Aussie accents and that they seem so down to earth and that their black labrador features in so many of their youtube videos...

Speaking of Summer, I'm going to post part of a post from my old MySpace again. Every time spring rolls around I get a little overexcited because it means the dry season is nearby. It is without a doubt my favourite time of the year, which is pretty evident in how much I romanticise it. Although, now that I think of it I wrote this in September 2008, and what I wrote still embodies how I spend my summer days :D 

Dreaming of an Endless Summer

Summer Paradise

...I'm going to the beach. Every day that I can I'll go to the beach and swim and snorkel and surf to my hearts content. I'll roll around in the waves after toppling off my board, and laugh at myself when I manage to pop my head out of the water. I'll paddle out the back, enjoying the rise and fall of the bigger waves that I'll be a little bit too scared to surf. Then I'll paddle up to the front and laugh at myself sliding off my 6'7" hunk of fibreglass, before unexpectedly staying up for the first time in a while. It'll be enough to put me in a euphoric state for the rest of the day, and maybe even a day or two after that.

I'll go to the river with my family, some snorkels, hot chips, a few fishing rods and a kayak. Me and Scott will swim just a metre away from a dolphin and not even realise it, swans will try to steal our chips and we'll just laugh. We'll run along the top of blackwall reach and climb down the cliffs to discover tiny caves, and I'll jump off the top of the ominous walls of rock into cool, murky water. I'll go for a long kayak, a snorkel in my lap so that I can push my head into the water and enjoy the sweet, cool liquid and the darting schools of whitebait desperately swimming away from me. Then Scott will jump on the front and we'll paddle through the yachts.


Laughing.
Yelling.
Screaming.
Singing at the top of our lungs.
Mum and Dad will get angry because we stayed on the water 'til after dark, but who cares. We had a good time and they'll get over it. Then we'll fish and catch blowies until we're too tired to put the bait on our hooks, before going home and arguing over who gets the shower first. 

Christmas will be the same as usual. The ever so lovely family lunch of a roast lamb, a roast chicken, too many roasted vegies, a Christmas pudding that I pretend to like, and a pavlova covered with fresh fruit. We'll sit around the tree after church and appreciate everything we get because we know that it was as much as Mum and Dad could possibly afford. We'll muck around outside and maybe even go for a swim at the beach as the sun slowly melts into the calm, blue expanse that is the ocean...

Eep! I'm getting so excited :D

Blue skies make me so happy :D

Backlog: 18 May 2008

So in a moment of ridiculous procrastination, I checked my myspace (it still exists whaaa??)! Anyways, I found this old blog of mine and decided it's not too shabby. Thanks to Tanya for the photo!

Those starlit nights.

TanyaVolt Photography

I miss them.

I miss their arrogance and confidence and their jokes and mood swings and letting me sit in the corner. Only noticing me when I needed some cheering up. I miss their laughing and enthusiasm and optimism and liveliness and the fact that they let me sit in the corner...almost entirely undetected.

Then they left and yet somehow the good life was still there. They were coming back. I was so sure.

But one week of starlit nights, two weeks of romance and everything was gone. The lights shone down on me and I was exposed. My flaws were there for the whole world to see and they, the arrogant, confident, moody, enthusiastic, optimistic and lively who let me sit in the corner almost entirely undetected were gone.

Suddenly my life was filled with a void. A huge, gaping chasm opened up in front of me and I fell right in. The good life was over and I had to walk the path that so many had walked before me. The path that was so small that there was no room for movement...no room to make a mistake. Now I'm living that life.

And only now am I regretting those starlit nights...

Prologue

"Thing is, I know I'll get there. I know that life keeps going and going until it stops, and that once it's stopped, you've got there, but at the same time, whether or not you've got there doesn't matter, cause by then, you're either somewhere else, or nowhere at all."

The man paused. Looked up. His brow was furrowed and weather beaten, and grey hairs were beginning to spout from his chin alongside the thick black stubble. His thoughts lent him an absurd kind of solace.

"Geez you're a strange one mate! How morbid d'you wanna be?"
"Iuno", he shrugged. It wasn't morbid, he thought, it was hope. It was freedom.

A rush of wind takes them both by surprise, and the other man picks up his glass, grinning at his friend. "Ah, don't worry. You'll keep." He breathed the bitter brew into his mouth and stared at the shining metal table. The kind with circles burnished into it, that always got cut off by another rounded illusion. The circles always fascinated him as a kid. He didn't get how they jumped out at him. How they seemed so separate from each other.

He levered the cup back into its place, using his grimy, calloused hand.

"Hey, remember when we were kids, Sam?"
"What about when we were kids?"

He thought hard. Everything? The freshness of the world. Their innocence and carelessness. Scaling the chicken wire fences around the school oval to tumble down the dunes and splash in the churning white waves, instead of sitting cleanly in class.

Sam helped him out, "what about the time you beat me up?"
They both chuckled. "Yeah, weren't very fond of each other for a while after that, huh?"
"Nup. Mind you, that board was a beauty."
"Yeah, and you crushed it tryin' ta surf down a bloody concrete hill!" The corners of their eyes crinkled with laughter again.
"God we were crazy bastards." Jim croaked on his final word, and looked up at his friend and felt sorry.

Maybe Sam was right. All that shit and yet here they were. The seconds on the clock had ticked away, and they'd ticked on with it.

Insight

A thought flicks through my brain. The flick of a tuning fork. The flick of the wish, hanging on my neck.

Inwardly, I sigh, and reluctantly, I retrieve my phone.

I tap three times and then it starts. I watch the tendon flicking in my wrist, as my brain searches for the right words.

The words, my words, are what keep me sane. The chaos of my mind becomes ordered. Organised.

It's like suddenly, the piles of paper are stacked neatly in brown cardboard boxes. Flick. Flick. Flick. I find the right word from that one, and move on to the next.

Eventually, I've exhausted the boxes and so the tendon in my wrist comes to a halt, along with the screech of the buses brakes.

As my feet pass each other on the pavement, one foot ahead of the other, I'm happy. Satisfied. Ready to share my words, my sanity, with the world.

Summer Skin

The towel floats in the wind as I force my tired arms to spread it evenly over the grass. As I lay down, prickling shivers run down my back and I can feel the tenderness of my sunburnt skin.

The sand at the foot of my towel, leading to the gentle river, sticks between my toes, and I begin to think I'd like to be in the saltwater. Pushing it away with my outstretched palm. Lazily propelling myself with a kick of my feet.

Then, the stubborn grass sticking against my forehead, I think of the cool water rushing past my body. Of the beach earlier that day, waves slamming against my feeble limbs. Standing and tumbling. Resurfacing and falling once again. Finally, my toes nudge a sandbank, and I stand with the midday sun warming my shoulders. Beads of water fall from my hair. I breathe deeply, and smile, unaware of my burning skin.

Back in reality, my back prickles with pain once again.

I pull myself up, heading for the soothing river. Dogs and their owners walk idly along the path. Kids with sunbleached hair bombie off the jetty. My Dad's snorkel juts out of the water, a fluro green and silver beacon.

I wade into the river and dive. Gliding through the water just as I'd imagined. I roll over, blowing a stream of bubbles through my nose and marvel at the sun, it's edges blurred innocently by the saltwater.

The ache in my back subsides, and I think perhaps I'd like to stand with the sun behind me, letting its rays warm my shoulders. Beads of water falling from my hair. I resurface, breathe deeply, and smile, momentarily unaware of my sunburnt skin.

So, it's not the best thing I've ever written, but it's from a place I'd rather be, sunburn and all! Which I know is a terrible thing to say, but man I'm missing summer, and seriously craving a trip to the beach. Anyone up for a swim in some bloody freezing saltwater? :P

La Mers

I imagine the train would look warm from the outside. The dark grey skies. Slippery grey roads. Dark green smudges of shrub.

And the train. Lit up on either side, holding the silhouettes of many.

Yes, it's safe in the train.

But there, on the other side, more green smudges, and then? Then the grey and white mass.

Tossing. Turning. Throwing itself about like there's no tomorrow.

The silhouettes turn their heads, and avert their eyes. Thick wads of paper filled with stories lose their wonder. Melodies lose their beauty. And screens, their captives.

The Sea. La Mers.
It steals them.

Tipsy Ramblings and Possibilities

After a little bit of wine and a glass of OJ and vodka (with a bit too much vodka), I decided it would be a good idea to revamp one of my many blogs. The odds of this lasting are small, as I don't tend to drink enough to consider posting my ramblings online. In the meantime however, I hope this blog provides you with some form of entertainment (and an inclination to leave even more entertaining comments), beginning with something I typed up on my phone at the train station this evening :)

There is a feeling of anticipation. The air is almost buzzing. There are girls in short dresses and high heels, trying to stay afloat. Men in rugby jersey's and footy jumpers and men in freshly laundered shirts, wearing cologne. A lone office worker weaves through the crowds, thinking only of the comfort of home. A couple in their late 30s chew gum snidely, feigning youth.

The evening has brought with it cool air and endless possibilities.

The floating girls think of handsome men. The men think of victory. A trio of salty haired, pink cheeked surfers think of sleep.

I walk slowly behind three old ladies who take one step at a time. They've experienced the fast lane, and no longer feel the need to rush. For them, life is something to be enjoyed, savoured. I wish I could share in their wisdom, but I'm still thinking of all the possibilities. The never ending possibilities.