When I started this post, it began as a companion piece to this one. I was hoping for a way to show you that there is a funny mirror in having your things meet your things and meet them nicely.
I wanted to let you know that I had enjoyed Riverbend books enormously, that the people were so friendly it was almost heartbreaking and that I hate when I’m kind of nerdy awkward with everyone. I liked so many of the works, for different reasons, and though I was a little tired I could see/feel just how lovely the thing was that I was experiencing.
I’m coming around on Brisbane too, big time. It’s just me. I am more prickly than I might initially seem. And man, I am not afraid to have opinions, and to form them quickly and rashly.
I wish that I could post that post because, when I wrote it in my head last night, kind of lying in this weird feather top bed, listening to the dog scratching about in his sleep, it was a really nice post.
It had the flattery of the helmet blog, but some additional layers, a kind of poetic melding of things that I felt really lovely about last night.
I felt really lovely last night. I slept diagonal in a soft bed, listening to what I thought was rain but was probably just the sleepiness of quiet suburbs.
My nanna used to say that when she was feeling sad, she just kind of popped out into the garden and did a bit of weeding. That made her feel better.
I don’t have a garden with me right now. Just the jangle of a message and the sensation of needing, ever so desperately to flee. I was totally unreasonable and there is a high likelihood that – with not too much pushing – I could be totally unreasonable again.
Now is not a time for talk. Now is a time for riding/rolling/regretting and not touching a bruise, even if you can feel it there, just under your skin.
eleanor j jackson 