in which the fish tries to avoid dreaming too much

Queensland was wondrous. It was burning hot, tropical, and satisfyingly filled with unexpected wildlife.
The architecture was very majestic and colossal.




Gallery  of Modern Art, Queensland




One night in Brisbane I met Jelly. She was brave enough to come to drinks at GOMA.
May I assure all those concerned that she is slim and lovely as well as clever! Don't believe a word about cellulite: she has none that I could see.
Meeting a blogfriend is interesting because you already know the person quite well, so you don't have to indulge in all that explorarory smalltalk, which can be tedious. It's also confronting to have someone looking you in the face, your real face, and seeing the real person rather than the bitsy online version.
Jelly even took me on a tour across the bridge! Then we had lots of late night chatting about life, the universe and axolotls.




Gallery of Modern Art, Brisbane, Queensland



I am home again. Feeling more than ever like I have made myself up, and thus am trying to firmly plant myself in the here and now.
Difficult, sometimes.
In fact I spent all of Tuesday in some strange imaginary place, dreaming and wafting. Having lived a life in words for a month, I am eager to drift back into the Nest of Fish, for some picture making. I'm rather worn out, on Monday I gave a very strange impromptu paper, in which I took rather a large risk and talked about a load of nonsense. I am not able to gauge a completely accurate response, as four people came and requested copies, one complimented my on my mesmerising voice , but one lady sat the entire time staring at me with a look of utter disdain, or perhaps disgust: frowning with one eyebrow raised. Pft, I say.
I talked about falling into things, I talked about pretending to be Ariadne.
I remembered my synaesthesia, which seemed to disappear in my twenties. I was reminded of it, I was reminded of trying to articulate it and having no idea how.

I talked about smelling things, of feeling things. Of looking and hearing.
Some of you out there know what I mean.




Resident of the Garden at Griffith University.







Self Portrait with Bill Henson Image




This morning I was surprised that the ocean was so warm. I thought it may have been the sea welcoming me home, and said as much. But the sea merely told me, very curtly, not to get too comfortable, and pinned me by the head to the sand.

Ahh. Home.


Now I must try to be here in the here. I must anchor myself to the present, I must not dream of the faraway.
I am here, this is now. I am here. Now.


But just for a minute, if I close my eyes,

I am still here


and elsewhere.