Yesterday I helped paint a friend’s bike and was reminded of just how differently I see bikes and how much difficulty I have riding them.
The wheels spun sucking her gaze in further and further till it tangled. Her vision was hazy and her thoughts were twisted in the spokes as she tried to mount the machine. It carried her down the hill precariously, threatening to throw her off if she slowed down. She felt she was being kidnapped. When she arrived at her destination, she squeezed the brakes. To her surprise she managed to get off fairly smoothly. As her thoughts untangled and her vision stopped spinning she could see the little metal machine waiting for her patiently as she went inside. Perhaps they could be friends.
Big news! I am doing a TEDx talk for TEDxQUT on the 2nd of August about my project. I’m really excited but I find public speaking very difficult, as I’m sure many people do. On day 78 I did a story on my fear of speeches and my propensity for violent blushing. This is going to be a big ordeal for me- I’ll be filmed, there will be an audience and I dare say there will be blushing. So I’ve written today’s story inspired by public speaking difficulties.
Words stick in her throat and dribble from her lips in a muddy indistinguishable syrup. People watch horrified as the newborn words flop about on the floor unable to find their feet. Some words begin to climb back into her throat, quivering with nerves. Her voice shakes from the quivering and then the words clog it all together. She scoops up the remaining words from the floor and carries them home. They’re not bad words, she thinks as she bathes them. If only she could give them a proper send off, let them loose in the wild. If only she could throw them into the wind and let them float effortlessly around the audience touching those nearby. Next time she’d be stronger, next time they’d be alright.
“What’s olive oil?”
“I think if you crush olives and it makes oil. You can do it with coconuts, vegetables, peanuts…”
“How do they make baby oil, do they crush babies?”
The two children sit in terror. The first turns to their baby sister, June.
“June, there’s no such thing as Bananas in pajamas, they’re just men in suits.”
“What are you doing!?”
“I’m crushing her dreams, I want to see if you get baby dream oil.”
June begins to cry.
“Quickly, collect the tears. We’re going to be rich!”
Yesterday at work, Ian was having philosophical difficulties with this question: “If olive oil is made from crushing olives… how do they make baby oil?”
Chloe told me she found making friends difficult. I totally agree- it can be intimidating and awkward. This morning I decided to challenge myself to make proper friends with the guys in the warehouse. I like talking to them during work, but at lunch I usually sit back with the office people because they’re too loud and intimidating. Today I sat on the outskirts of their big circle. I felt like the quiet kid at school again. The following story is my experience:
On the edge of conversation. I step out briefly on to the centre of its loud shifting surface. But I can’t see my next step, it’s already moved so fast that I can’t find a foothold. So jump back to the edge, clinging to the still quiet comfort of the edge. I’ve got a better view from here. I can really take it all in. The edge isn’t always a bad place to be.
Andrew’s been pondering the question, what is a “vegetarian zombie”? So I’ve explored some Zombie philosophy.
Urge for brains constant. Irresistible. But also urge to help others. So make diet, more earth friendly, like human vegetarians do. Choose what brains. Brains that not contribute much. Never eat scientist brains. Some politicians okay. Best brain from Murdoch man. He spread his brain though everywhere through paper. His brain very renewable.
Terry Whidborne (find out more at his site) is a stupidly talented person especially with a pen/pencil/paint or really anything- I imagine he could even carve an amazing sculpture with a pin if he wanted to. Every Sunday he does a sketch and sends it hurtling into the chirping land of tweeters. I got excited and couldn’t wait for today’s so I used last week’s as today’s prompt:
Fairies are hairy. I always thought they were smooth delicate creatures with impeccable dress sense and perfect figures. I locked myself away in libraries and even lived in the woods for a month in search of these perfect beauties. But when I finally tracked them down, I found a group of tubby hairy artists buzzing about. They’d been drawing themselves into books for decades as gorgeous creatures. My disappointment was quickly replaced with relief. No one is perfect. Everyone is insecure.
Erin sent me her favourite piece “The Last Forest” by Max Ernst:
The moon is a forest. If you slip under a crater, you’ll see it. Giant blue luminous plants thriving and giving off eerie green light. When the Earth was used up, we moved here. It had been under our noses all along. Not everyone survived the trip. Which is just as well, the moon is small and cramped. Some complain about the strange damp smell of the forest or the dark blue mud that cakes our boots. I am just glad there is a forest left in the universe that will take us.