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Apathy's Bitch
Oct. 15th, 2003 10:45 amJournal - Oct 11
There is a formation shaped like a mushroom cloud in the sky. I'm taking a walk down by the river, as I do sometimes when the house is too full to really do or think about anything at all. I haven't been down this way in ages. The old mill has been well and truly fucked up now, its conversion in to flats now complete. Whoever designed the hideous alterations was doing the best to hide the ghosts of what this place was. A mill. And for a while, an abattoir. The mossy old sandstone has been scrubbed chemical white.
The light in the valley this evening is a beautiful yellow dappling gently between trees, but it is disappearing. The wind is what some would call spiteful. But not me. It's just really fucking cold, and it's making my ears hurt. I sit and try to write, but despite my firmly held belief that I am responsible for my own mind and inspiration, my stroll in search of a forced epiphany at this point seems unfruitful. I'm pissed off because I didn't go to Livid by myself, and am ignoring advice I gave myself a week ago. True, Livid is more expensive than a con, bit the same principal applies. Apathy has made me a fool again.
I take a turn and walk up a street I don't remember being on before. It has some factories, a power substation (what is it with substations in this neighbourhood? There's dozens of them) and a vacant fenced block of land.
The street is near Old Canterbury Rd, and I can see the residential backs of shops fronting that street. This makes me think of the cesspit we looked at when we were house hunting. I'm glad at least, even if plans have stalled, that I didn't end up living there. But then I think, well, how badly do I want this? People who really want something take any chance they can get. Is having really specific plans that can't be met just another way of giving way to my fears? I'm comfortable where I am. But maybe that's the thing that is holding me back. I can think of few people I'd rather live with than Andrew, and yes, a house with more people would be better - I'm used to lots of people around and being alone for too long can freak me out, but I'm sure I'd be able to get more done with a room of my own. And I'm 23, for fuck's sake. If I'm afraid of moving, I should do so as soon as possible. Perhaps it's time to talk to Andrew.
I cross the overgrown vacant block, and a gap in the fence gets me to the bowls club, which I cross and exit. It's only sort of trespassing. Later I see a cat. I think it's from the stray litter that lived on the building site that was here. Seems to be doing alright. Hello kitty. I should probably report it or something. Eh.
I go across the rail bridge and past the substation that sometimes makes my head hum. Not today though, which is good.
I sit in the park near the tracks and write this.
Freezing.
Then, it's dark and I go home.
There is a formation shaped like a mushroom cloud in the sky. I'm taking a walk down by the river, as I do sometimes when the house is too full to really do or think about anything at all. I haven't been down this way in ages. The old mill has been well and truly fucked up now, its conversion in to flats now complete. Whoever designed the hideous alterations was doing the best to hide the ghosts of what this place was. A mill. And for a while, an abattoir. The mossy old sandstone has been scrubbed chemical white.
The light in the valley this evening is a beautiful yellow dappling gently between trees, but it is disappearing. The wind is what some would call spiteful. But not me. It's just really fucking cold, and it's making my ears hurt. I sit and try to write, but despite my firmly held belief that I am responsible for my own mind and inspiration, my stroll in search of a forced epiphany at this point seems unfruitful. I'm pissed off because I didn't go to Livid by myself, and am ignoring advice I gave myself a week ago. True, Livid is more expensive than a con, bit the same principal applies. Apathy has made me a fool again.
I take a turn and walk up a street I don't remember being on before. It has some factories, a power substation (what is it with substations in this neighbourhood? There's dozens of them) and a vacant fenced block of land.
The street is near Old Canterbury Rd, and I can see the residential backs of shops fronting that street. This makes me think of the cesspit we looked at when we were house hunting. I'm glad at least, even if plans have stalled, that I didn't end up living there. But then I think, well, how badly do I want this? People who really want something take any chance they can get. Is having really specific plans that can't be met just another way of giving way to my fears? I'm comfortable where I am. But maybe that's the thing that is holding me back. I can think of few people I'd rather live with than Andrew, and yes, a house with more people would be better - I'm used to lots of people around and being alone for too long can freak me out, but I'm sure I'd be able to get more done with a room of my own. And I'm 23, for fuck's sake. If I'm afraid of moving, I should do so as soon as possible. Perhaps it's time to talk to Andrew.
I cross the overgrown vacant block, and a gap in the fence gets me to the bowls club, which I cross and exit. It's only sort of trespassing. Later I see a cat. I think it's from the stray litter that lived on the building site that was here. Seems to be doing alright. Hello kitty. I should probably report it or something. Eh.
I go across the rail bridge and past the substation that sometimes makes my head hum. Not today though, which is good.
I sit in the park near the tracks and write this.
Freezing.
Then, it's dark and I go home.
