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A peculiar morning...
I woke up at 06:30, intending to go to the gym, but felt so tired that I just gave up and went back to sleep. At 07:30, however, I felt like I'd had a full night's sleep in between. The bus and train were slow again, so I got a good bit of reading on the current material - Charle De Lint's Memory & Dream. de Lint's evocation of Newford is so strong that it invariably leaves me in a non-work mood - more inclined to writing, or visiting cafes or galleries or something. Or going hunting for fey in the Liberties or Temple Bar. The presence of a little old guy on the train who was no more than four feet high and dressed like a monochrome leprechaun (down to the wide belt over the jacket and the odd hat, albeit all in grey tweed) was no help.
By the old bathing buildings near Blackrock, where we went walking on the shore a couple of weeks ago, they're doing some construction work - looks like they're opening the old footbridge again there. What mystified me, though, was that they had a digger there - as in, machine. How they got it there I can't think - either they drove it over the rocks and wet sand from Monkstown or thereabouts, or they brought it in by helicopter.
There were steeplejacks working on the church tower as I was coming up from the train station - ladders running right from about fifteen feet above the ground to the very top, and these two guys almost running up and down them - very disconcerting, given that I've developed a problem with heights in the last few years.
There's too much stuff going on here in work right now -I have five different projects in my head, only one of them actaully mine, and one mysterious issue with payments that I don't quite understand. And there's supposed to be a work night in the pub this evening, but I'm not sure where we're headed, or even if it's on - although I think it is.
I want to go to Edinburgh now, please.
I woke up at 06:30, intending to go to the gym, but felt so tired that I just gave up and went back to sleep. At 07:30, however, I felt like I'd had a full night's sleep in between. The bus and train were slow again, so I got a good bit of reading on the current material - Charle De Lint's Memory & Dream. de Lint's evocation of Newford is so strong that it invariably leaves me in a non-work mood - more inclined to writing, or visiting cafes or galleries or something. Or going hunting for fey in the Liberties or Temple Bar. The presence of a little old guy on the train who was no more than four feet high and dressed like a monochrome leprechaun (down to the wide belt over the jacket and the odd hat, albeit all in grey tweed) was no help.
By the old bathing buildings near Blackrock, where we went walking on the shore a couple of weeks ago, they're doing some construction work - looks like they're opening the old footbridge again there. What mystified me, though, was that they had a digger there - as in, machine. How they got it there I can't think - either they drove it over the rocks and wet sand from Monkstown or thereabouts, or they brought it in by helicopter.
There were steeplejacks working on the church tower as I was coming up from the train station - ladders running right from about fifteen feet above the ground to the very top, and these two guys almost running up and down them - very disconcerting, given that I've developed a problem with heights in the last few years.
There's too much stuff going on here in work right now -I have five different projects in my head, only one of them actaully mine, and one mysterious issue with payments that I don't quite understand. And there's supposed to be a work night in the pub this evening, but I'm not sure where we're headed, or even if it's on - although I think it is.
I want to go to Edinburgh now, please.
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From:
DeLintesque Vision
A few months ago at dusk in the city of Adelaide, I saw this extremely tall man; trailingly long reddish beard and unkempt hair, dressed in seemingly filthy rags and tattered coat, bedspread wrapped around him like a bandolier. bare feet dark with grime. He carried this branch of a gum-tree, as thin as his wrist, as a staff and hanging from the end was the tail of a possum. He was walking in a perfectly staight line, gazing neither left nor right, nor with eyes cast down, but straight ahead, clear and intense. He stode through the parks and across main roads as if he was oblivious to civilisation. As I watched him stride away it seemed as if time had momentarily stopped. No noise. No cars. No birdlife. Then I snapped to. I called out to my spouse to check out this guy, and she said "What guy?". The vagrant looking bloke that just walked in front of us. "What guy?" she said. I looked in the direction he was heading to point him out. Nothing. Gone. Open park. Cultivated lawns and gnarled olive trees, a few sparrows. No "vagranty bloke".
'Couple of weeks later I saw him again. Same time of day. More in the city UBD this time. And again he was striding purposely through the city as if it wasn't there. I watched. People didn't make room for him as they walked by. He didn't make room for oncoming pedestrains either. His path, a straight one from what I could see, didn't falter, didn't change. It was if he and they occupied totally different space. No one looked at him. No one avoided looking at him. It was as if they didn't see him. As if he wasn't there. I still see him every couple of weeks, and it's the same thing. One day, I'm gonna follow him see where he goes.
Weird. CdL has a lot to answer for!
From:
Re: DeLintesque Vision
From:
Re: DeLintesque Vision
May not have to wait for that scholarship after all!