Sunday, September 6, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Last night I watched the robots play in the bright lights of the city sky, with a dear old friend.
He is one of my sweetest friends, the person I would lie on my back in the grass with and watch the dinosaurs fight in the clouds. We would talk about life, the universe, and nothing. We'd count shooting stars and make impossible wishes that eventually came true.
But tonight there were no stars, and no clouds. Just the shadows and the city lights. So we watched the lights, and faces started to emerge. The Suncorp building became a poignant, slopey-eyed robot, having a one-sided conversation with the smaller and more attractive building next door. A pirate building with an eye patch watched these two for a while with a bored expression, until the lights switched off and his eyes closed.
Our hearts raced as the lights were flicked off in each office floor, flashes of light upon which we made more silly wishes.
We spent a long time watching the solitary office light on the top floor, which remained ablaze until the early hours of the morning. We imagined what the stranger behind those walls was doing, who he was, who he wasn't. Lonely, receding hairline, delusions of grandeur and adventure? Fresh, ambitious, dedicated, surreptitious? Affairs, office desk, betrayal, passion, stereotype? Somehow it was more stimulating than watching the planets and the imagined inhabitants of Jupiter. I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
I am suddenly awfully aware that for the first time others may read the words that stumble and stagger clumsily from my mind to the page.
Ill-fated, unfortunate words, I do feel sorry for them. If only they had been born into the mouth of Dylan Thomas, Leonard Cohen, Oscar Wilde or MGMT perhaps they would feel like they had a life purpose, like they had the ability to change lives and make people dance and be clever and witty and loved. The reality of course, is that like most completely ordinary words they will dedicate themselves to the 9-5 life of this blog. When they die, they will be forgotten. These words may have children that love and remember them, and perhaps grandchildren, but generally they will go unnoticed through their mundane, monotonous self-serving lives.
I suppose therefore, that while I never intended on giving this blog an introduction - a magical first post that will entice and delight and promise things I cannot deliver - I am pledging to my beloved word-friends that they will finally have the opportunity to get off the couch and dance. They will see the world! I am crossing my heart and poking my eye that I will book my fledgling, scruffy, baby bird words into ballet classes and piano classes and gymnastics and give them the head start in this world that they deserve.
My ordinary words will do extraordinary things with their lives!