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Wednesday 18th October, Onewhero, cloudy
Bad dreams. Woke up out of dreams to Justy getting things ready to go to work; did not manage to get out of bed/dressed before she left the house, but was in time to open the window for a good morning and a hug before she drove out.
Breakfasted on brown rice from some past dinner warmed up with milk then honey melted through and cream poured on. Have done this once at Vogeltown house, we had no honey so I used marmalade, and no cream. This was better.
Sang; practising singing high, can get the pitch and mostly in a stable sort of way, but very thin sound. Here there is piano to fix notes on. Spoke poems high for a while trying to get inside the sound -- got to the nadir of the Ancient Mariner's story, it is a real problem that I only know the words that far. I think it is a real problem; it doesn't feel like one. I believe I disposed of my Coleridge at some point so I guess I should find online readings to learn from.
A bird got stuck in the chimney. I couldn't get it out. I tried reaching down with tongs, then with fire tongs, then with my gloved hand. I could feel the wind from its wings but not reach it; or even be sure where it was, that chimney confuses me.
Cried for a bit. (In bed, having no feeling for where I was in the day or what was going on; feeling also quite alone, and sad about the bird.) Disturbed from this by the bird's knocking around the kitchen; Saph and Butterscotch were very interested, Snoopy too, and while I got them away, and got them away again, the bird either got out or got itself stunned in a corner. But I haven't seen it's body, or feathers, so I assume it got out. A thrush, I thought. It could have been a starling, which is surely more likely.
Persuaded Snoopy to come walking. He decided we should go up Hiras Access Road. I decided we should not go right to the end, and we stayed for a while a bit past the top of the tall rise, me looking at the view and getting the seat of my skirt wet on the grass and him investigating the area.
The view from that spot is very wide; not as wide as from the actual top of the road, but you can see to the top of Onewhero, and I think beyond, and some distance off towards Wairamarama and some distance off towards the Waikato. The thought settled with me walking up, that the way by which it seems good to live really does not need any description, and is probably indescribable, and that's fine, and also not inconsistent with using utilitarianism or other systems or principles or phrases to help thinking. I'm pleased with that. There are a lot of ideas Le Guin's Tao Te Ching put into my head about four years ago and have been slipping around and not quite getting themselves' right since then; it's nice when one does get itself right.
When we got home I fed the pigs and hens and got the paper in, before I put the gumboots away, and then I listened to Simon Bridges' phone talk with whatever-his-name-is, because the Herald coverage deemphasised some things Sam emphasised to me on the phone last night, mostly about the extent to which what he said really indicates corruption. I think it does indicate corruption very clearly, and the way the Herald covers it puts me in mind of things Leaflemming was saying to me recently about how much influence the government of China has here. Which is scary.
Now, I have made gingernuts to take to the night art class up at the school tonight -- will catch up with people there, Charles and Marisa and Ash and Courtney and Brianna, and I hope I'll enjoy being in that room again, too. May take sewing to do.
And I have started reading Inda by Sherwood Smith, which Justy and Leaflemming and Ablackart and Landingtree have all been recommending to me, in some cases for ten years. It seems like it will be dense and upper-politics complex. I feel doubt as to whether I can be bothered; but given the rep, I should think that will pass. Anyway Snoopy lay on the bookroom floor, and I lay in the bed, and Butterscotch lay on me, and I had hot chocolate, and at first I was reading a part I'd read a long time ago starting the book and not going on -- when I would've been on the attacking side in the war games that the children play -- and then I was reading new things, in that old bed, and all of it was nice.
And then, I thought since I've been meaning to start blogging again here, I might as well start now; so I am sitting in the rainbow-grey armchair, with Snoopy snoring slightly from the sofa, because he is a companiable dog, and the wisteria and the puka blowing about outside.
Breakfasted on brown rice from some past dinner warmed up with milk then honey melted through and cream poured on. Have done this once at Vogeltown house, we had no honey so I used marmalade, and no cream. This was better.
Sang; practising singing high, can get the pitch and mostly in a stable sort of way, but very thin sound. Here there is piano to fix notes on. Spoke poems high for a while trying to get inside the sound -- got to the nadir of the Ancient Mariner's story, it is a real problem that I only know the words that far. I think it is a real problem; it doesn't feel like one. I believe I disposed of my Coleridge at some point so I guess I should find online readings to learn from.
A bird got stuck in the chimney. I couldn't get it out. I tried reaching down with tongs, then with fire tongs, then with my gloved hand. I could feel the wind from its wings but not reach it; or even be sure where it was, that chimney confuses me.
Cried for a bit. (In bed, having no feeling for where I was in the day or what was going on; feeling also quite alone, and sad about the bird.) Disturbed from this by the bird's knocking around the kitchen; Saph and Butterscotch were very interested, Snoopy too, and while I got them away, and got them away again, the bird either got out or got itself stunned in a corner. But I haven't seen it's body, or feathers, so I assume it got out. A thrush, I thought. It could have been a starling, which is surely more likely.
Persuaded Snoopy to come walking. He decided we should go up Hiras Access Road. I decided we should not go right to the end, and we stayed for a while a bit past the top of the tall rise, me looking at the view and getting the seat of my skirt wet on the grass and him investigating the area.
The view from that spot is very wide; not as wide as from the actual top of the road, but you can see to the top of Onewhero, and I think beyond, and some distance off towards Wairamarama and some distance off towards the Waikato. The thought settled with me walking up, that the way by which it seems good to live really does not need any description, and is probably indescribable, and that's fine, and also not inconsistent with using utilitarianism or other systems or principles or phrases to help thinking. I'm pleased with that. There are a lot of ideas Le Guin's Tao Te Ching put into my head about four years ago and have been slipping around and not quite getting themselves' right since then; it's nice when one does get itself right.
When we got home I fed the pigs and hens and got the paper in, before I put the gumboots away, and then I listened to Simon Bridges' phone talk with whatever-his-name-is, because the Herald coverage deemphasised some things Sam emphasised to me on the phone last night, mostly about the extent to which what he said really indicates corruption. I think it does indicate corruption very clearly, and the way the Herald covers it puts me in mind of things Leaflemming was saying to me recently about how much influence the government of China has here. Which is scary.
Now, I have made gingernuts to take to the night art class up at the school tonight -- will catch up with people there, Charles and Marisa and Ash and Courtney and Brianna, and I hope I'll enjoy being in that room again, too. May take sewing to do.
And I have started reading Inda by Sherwood Smith, which Justy and Leaflemming and Ablackart and Landingtree have all been recommending to me, in some cases for ten years. It seems like it will be dense and upper-politics complex. I feel doubt as to whether I can be bothered; but given the rep, I should think that will pass. Anyway Snoopy lay on the bookroom floor, and I lay in the bed, and Butterscotch lay on me, and I had hot chocolate, and at first I was reading a part I'd read a long time ago starting the book and not going on -- when I would've been on the attacking side in the war games that the children play -- and then I was reading new things, in that old bed, and all of it was nice.
And then, I thought since I've been meaning to start blogging again here, I might as well start now; so I am sitting in the rainbow-grey armchair, with Snoopy snoring slightly from the sofa, because he is a companiable dog, and the wisteria and the puka blowing about outside.