Its ok, I am alive. I was writing and then stopped and then wrote and then stopped.
I wrote this though:
Writing this while in my brother’s old bedroom in our old family home. It has rained all week, which has been great. Always loved my home growing up when it rained, as the metal roof made the rain louder and if you were cuddled up in bed it was the most comforting sound. But if it was winter, you have to lie really still and not slide your feet across to other part of the bed as it would be cold and who wants to have to go through the experience more than once of warming up the bed.
Thunder just rolled down the street and a dog barked. More rain. The splash sound as cars drive past the top of the street. And this bed gets more and more comfy.
My nephew came in before, he walks but cannot walk on a bed yet, way too unstable. You throw him up high and he giggles a lot and has learnt the word “more” much to his advantage. He is just stoked at that. I wish my plant said “more” when it needed water. Look further down the page to read about the plant, as I have placed this in as a warning.
Then I got back from Sydney and I wrote this:
My cousin told me this blog was emotional vomit. I actually had no issue with her saying this, as perceptions really do fascinate me. This really could be seen as emotional vomit. I just blurt out whatever comes into my head and it is usually emotive. Vomit also comes out unexpectedly, so in a beautiful harmony, vomit and emotion mix together, with chunks of carrot and sometimes corn.
I got home from Sydney after a fairly uneventful trip other than seeing loved ones (yep that part was eventful), and got texts from friends all saying welcome home. Welcome home. Yeah I would say it is home now, it has been 6 months today since I flew here and wheeled my suitcase next to the bluestone gutters that are so familiar in Melbourrne. And I do not regret it at all, I love it.
I bought a plant. It has green leaves that then turn into red leaves at the top of the plant. I walked into a florist when I saw it in the window, with a lovely rafia bow (Gee, I have rafia and a bow in my house. This reminds me of my mum in the 90’s making rafia hats at christian camp). I walked in and after the quick smile and chat that its cold outside, asked her what plant in here will survive in an apartment. She pointed to the red one and destiny was mine. An old man came out the front of the shop and wrapped it up in brown paper(must be his duty, maybe his only one), I do not know why but it protected Elliot from the cold. Elliot is the plant’s name, and he does not have a star sign.
I love that I do not lose my romantic bone, or romantic heart for that matter. I can keep hurting myself and yet I still have that hope. It also projects back on the love I have felt and also given and there is a memorial service to that past sometimes. Some mix tape is played and a sad song or a happy song is there, but there are so many songs yet to be written that will remind me of a future love and other songs that have been written that have simply not been discovered by me, that will be introduced by someone who will make me smile.
Have not seen Mr Fox for a while. Some say he may have been ousted as Mr Fox and is now just Fox, over in St Kilda. Sucks hey.
I have noticed that Tram Drivers, wave to each other. Just as in Sydney, Bus drives wave to each other. It makes me wonder if the entire bus company or train company of drivers know each other or do they do it as some social formality. “You drive a Tram too and are going past me, hello!!” And the wave returns to them “Gday mate”.
I saw this video and the words are haunting, he is such a great artist and it just gets topped off when Kimbra turns up in the video. She rocks.