28 DECEMBER 2011 : FROGS IN THE PIPES.

FROG ON THE KITCHEN WINDOW LAST NIGHT.

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ALTUCHER CONFIDENTIAL

Tip No. 29 : Paint. Or draw.

http://www.jamesaltucher.com/2011/03/33-unusual-tips-to-being-a-better-writer/

THE YAAN.

Morning, All and Sundry. Still sitting here on the eBENCH. For a while anyways.  I truly thought I was settled in. Now, with things once again amuddle, I am drawing myself in. Gathering myself together and preparing for the Unknown. It might not seem like big changes to some people. It might not seem like grievous tragedy or hard times. It might not seem a difficult thing to do – bit it is. Times like these, I don’t play around too leniently with my own emotions and thoughts. I prepare. I pull in resources.  And I sit here on the eBENCH, taking myself through the various disciplines which lead me through IN BETWEEN times.

I wanted to STAY PUT – in my life as it is. Now, I face the relationship restructuring. ( How is that for a non-emotional description?) That means I face the house hunting, social welfare jiggling and relocation. None of these things is simple on a disability pension income and with a shortage of accommodation in the area.   It means – another sinking of a ship of dreams.

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THE YAAN PART 2.

Afternoon to you all.

Coming in for sunsetting here. The swallows have come home for the evening and the cicadas are about. I have friends. For a week I have their house. A beautiful day. That’s the man in my life on the left in the photos between the leaves of the passionfruit . How can two people in their 60s come so close to getting it right and yet miss by a millimetre ?

Well, as for the week, I have the care of a house. Built from stone and timber and mudbrick, down on the Bellinger River.  I have a story about today. A good one. I haven’t drawn or painted . I took the Cheery Redhead shopping and that’s where the Story is.

I shall tell it to you before I go to bed in this lovely home. It’s a short story and it is a good one.  A girl took a saxophone out and began to play.

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The girl who plays the saxophone is called Carolita and the man who makes ballons is called Frederico.  They are Italian Travellers.

I DON’T LIKE THE BLUES. I HAVE MY REASONS. BUT I DO LIKE THIS LADY.

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