There are days when cigarette smoke smells like cornflakes.

Well, moments anyway. I just had one of those moments... but perhaps it's more to with not having had breakfast than any real resemblance between those two flavours...


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Now playing: Michael Nyman - The Scent Of Love
via FoxyTunes

Death strikes their house

One of the residents in my house committed suicide today.

As I'm not sure who it was, I'm not sure if I knew them.  There are about 40 people living here, and it's easy to go months without seeing some people.

All the same, it felt weird walking into my place tonight after work.  Everything was so quiet, and I thought of spirits and ghosts and things, the spirit of the guy who died and the spirits of people who had lived and died in this area even before the house was here.

I knew something was up earlier today when someone knocked on the caretaker's door (room next to mine).  It was a woman whose voice I hadn't heard before. She was asking the manager's daughter about something.  She mentioned her son in room 14.  I looked at room 14 on my map.  Didn't know who lived there.  Of course I was furiously eavesdropping, because eavesdropping opportunities are pretty scarce in my corridor.  My sister was in my room talking to me at the time, so I didn't catch much of the conversation.  Later on I could hear a fair bit of movement - I remember it was 1.30pm.  My sister had been leaving, but came back to my room and said "Gawain, why are the police here?"  I went outside with her. There were two police officers in the courtyard, and some guy sitting with his back against a wall, and a number of tenants standing around looking dazed.  My first thought was drugs, because I know some of the guys here are into that.  But whatever it was, I didn't feel like knowing then and there, or disturbing people unnecessarily.  I figured I'd find out soon enough.  I just escorted my sister out another way.  I heard what happened later from one of the tenants, who was obviously very shocked.

I guess there's little reason for it to affect me, but it still sounds ominous...someone I live with committed suicide.


Also one of my high school friends, Matthew Roberts, died recently.  The paper said it was sudden but I don't know what happened.  I have many fond memories of Mr. Roberts which won't elaborate on too much now, cos it's late and I'm sick.  I met him in year 7, he was the son of the year level co-ordinator.  He was fun and I went through high school with him.  Hadn't seen him for ages, and then out of the blue, he contacted me via facebook - along with other high school friends.  Unlike other high school mates, though, he wanted to catch up with me.  It was a busy time of year for me and I didn't take too much notice of his invite.  I regret that we had only just started talking again when he passed away, and hadn't had the chance to properly catch up on each other's lives, but I'm happy that we had a chance to speak again at all.  Facebook has its uses.

I feel like Death comes in clumps.  there are passages of time where you don't hear about anyone dying.  And there are times when it seems to be all around you.  That's the way I have experienced it in the past, but then again it's completely unpredictable.  All we can do is hope for the best.

Sleep=Death.  Death=Long Sleep.  Sleeping=Giving In?  Death=Giving In? Live now, Sleep when you are Dead?  or is Sleep merely a Taste of Death?  Acceptance of Death?  Is putting it off merely Putting Off the Inevitable?  What does Acceptance of Inevitable Death achieve?  Realisation and Acceptance of our Path?  or merely Resignation to our Fate? or nothing at all?

Good Night.

Alienation

A man sits by the window of his hut and looks out.  Dense green forest surrounds him, stifling the outside world.  A soft breeze brings distant bird calls and the slow swishing of leaves to his ears.

He lives alone.  He has lanterns for the dark and a river nearby to wash, and this is sufficient.  He grows beans and corn and potatoes in the clearing surrounding his hut.  He thinks to himself about joy and fear, and the unpredictable nature of emotion.  He travels through the forest often, and once in a while he plays a small wooden harp.

Never has anyone visited him here.

Did he lose his friends?  Where are his family?  Where are his connections to the human cycle?  These answers are buried in his past, buried by choice, in a heart-breaking life riddled with mistakes.  Is he a hermit?

He wonders about his own solitude.

Is he a hermit?

He knows and accepts that he is alone, and seeks to be alone, and seeks to remain forever alone.  But in his heart his craving is to lose himself entirely in another who would accept him.  Then he would know that love and death are the same.

what i am doing.

• Reading. Writing.
  
• Sleeping. Waking.
  
• Listening. Watching.
• Dressing. Walking.
• Shopping. Cooking.
• Eating. Talking.
• Travelling. Working.
• Thinking. Drinking.

• Waiting.
  

Refreezing is okay?

Hello (lol!)

I did say my next post would be about someone else's life...but you know what.... I LIED!

So I defrosted my blade steak a few nights ago, in the fridge as is good and proper. I didn't use it within a couple of days and I began to get worried. (I always freeze stuff these days because I'm only cooking for one person, and things tend to go off in the fridge.)
How long does meat keep in the fridge? I wondered. Less than a week, I was sure.

Then last night I discovered that the meat was leaking (blood, that is) and it seemed to be coming through the plastic bag I wrapped it in. This wasn't great as many other people use the fridge. I was in a hurry... so I threw it back in the freezer, instead of throwing it out.

Now I did tell some people this story, including my mother, and they all thought it was a bit dodgy... and that I should probably throw the meat out. But, boo-ya! The internet came good for me again. The above link debunks the myth that refreezing is bad (as long as it was thawed in the fridge) and the only drawback seems to be a loss of fluid from the process.

This link is more comprehensively about freezing.
http://www.fsis.usda.gov/Fact_Sheets/Focus_On_Freezing/index.asp
It seems to me that there are a lot of misconceptions about food handling/storage - but remember, the ten second rule still applies!

Enjoy my fellow freezers.

Overnight, the leaves began to die - and as they died they turned the most beautiful colours. But nobody saw them, and in the morning they were dead.

Hi there.

That title seems a bit morbid, but not to worry... I was just being poetic.

Something I realised just last night was that none of my friends from Melbourne have been to the restaurant I work at. The visitors I've had while at work have all been old friends from Bendigo.

I've done a lot of writing this year, more writing than I have done for a while. I believe uni has prompted it. There's something about researching and writing about stuff, or rather, being forced to do it, that makes the creative mind wander onto better things. While writing a history essay I suddenly had a creative urge to write about a room. I thought about the power an empty room can have and the power of a title such as 'The Hut of Baba-Yaga', the witch of Russian folklore (from Mussorgsky's 'Pictures At An Exhibition') and the power of the scene from The Neverending Story where Atreyu is in the egg room on the mountain with the Childlike Empress. So I began to write 'The Room of Moving Shadows', although I toyed with different titles for a while. There are only two or three paragraphs so far.

Speaking of my stories... the usual horror story of exams has begun. Still finishing 3 or 4 overdue assignments from two Fridays ago, I've left myself a day and a bit to study for my two written exams. Which admittedly won't be too taxing - I hope.

Oh and I have moved rooms. My new room is higher up, and has [gasp!] a window to the outside world. It also has room for me to move around without bumping into things.

I have progressed with my songwriting. Two songs are now complete, if only in overall structure. More are developing.

I've had a girlfriend for a little over a month now. Her name is Lanie, and she is on exchange from Britain. If you've been out of the loop here (and really do mind not being told!) I apologise.

Last night I worked for nine hours, my longest shift ever. A long time you say? Quite convenient that it happened the weekend before exams. I did have a few minutes to sit and eat, but it was... long. I've spoken to a number of people who are also working during the exam period. Silly, silly fools! That is the first exclamation mark I've used in a while, as in, for some days.

Do I need to say goodbye? Goodbye. Though I doubt it's a final goodbye; I'm sure I'll be back to post again sometime, I really don't know why. I am thinking that a creative blog rather than an everyday one would be more...useful? Thought-provoking? Perhaps I'm just tired of posting about my life. Okay then. My next post shall be about someone else's life. Stay tuned.

>>>G

Children's Children's Children

Oh blurg. How can I express the funniness? Please take seven glorious minutes to follow the link in the title above, and you too will be unable to express the funniness. Check out their other songs too.

'Can I get two burners straight up please.' - Work Quote of tonight.

Gadget & Train

What happened to me last year? I mean really? What happened?




There was a hole.
Deep and dark, it reached a long way down - it was impossible to say how far.
Some people thought they knew. They would throw things into it, listen carefully, and claim after some time that they heard a faintly audible splash or a thud. Others were happy to abseil into its depths, even to camp there a little while. There were ledges and hollows in the sides, some large enough to hold many people comfortably. Of course, the further away one was from the top, the darker it became. People would bring climbing gear: sturdy shoes, and torches and ropes, and helmets and gloves. They chattered and laughed, all the while descending into the blackness.
Further down, the sides became rougher and sharper. Jagged edges surrounded the explorers, twisted and mangled remnants of a violent past. Slow trickles of mineral-rich fluids seeped out of tiny crevices, making every surface slippery. People would reluctantly give up and head back when they reached this area, as it seemed too difficult to traverse.
As time passed, a group of tougher adventurers made up their minds to reach the bottom, if such an end existed. Their stamina was greater and their determination stronger. They brought durable, sturdy equipment, and longer-lasting supplies. They fought their way past the dangerous terrain, even though it became increasingly inhospitable the further down they travelled - fragile outcrops which crumbled easily, incredibly smooth sections where no handholds could be found.
Finally they discovered the unthinkable. The wall came to an abrupt end. Nothing could be seen by shining their bright beams down further. They clambered around to the far side. Still there was nothing below them. The wall simply did not continue. They dropped a coin and waited in hopeful silence for a faint echo. None came. Hanging cautiously from the very corner of the wall, they peered underneath it into the darkness. The ceiling stretched endlessly away from them, flat and forbidding. They could not proceed that way. It seemed their journey was at an end.
After much discussion about what to do, they all fell silent. The atmosphere was dead and not a sound could be heard, except for their own breathing as they clung to the wall. The air was very stuffy and no light was visible from above. The hole had swallowed them completely. None of them felt any desire to climb back to the top.




The title of this post refers to the two runners listed on the board at Berth last Thursday night. I was Train, of course (G Train), but why the chef has been calling Jason 'Inspector Gadget' is beyond me.