Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Muse? What Muse?

Are you my muse? asked the tentative writer newly emerged from the Cryogenic Suspension imposed by the "Get A Real Job, Academic Achievement Party"

Party representatives, cleverly disguised as primary school teachers had been identifying potential creatives for decades. The children who had not succumbed to their mind control techniques by the time they reached highschool were whisked off to the Creativity Extraction Unit to have their inner writer or artist or actor "dealt with". Sadly for the Unit's Budgetry Department the troublesome parts could not be completely eradicated without seriously damaging the host and, whilst parents were all too willing to send their children to have the cryogenic procedure, they would not comply if any serious harm were to come to their beloved progeny. Hence pubescent creative energies had been in cold storage for decades, the worlds creativity fed only by the offspring of those subversive parents who had managed to evade the system and set up marginal groups of pathetic arts panderers.

Now as the wheel of fortune would have it, emergent in the GARJAAP, was the notion that perhaps their economic agendas might be better served by thinkers that were able to apply creative solutions to the problems faced by industry and business and the sciences. Small control samples of Creatives were being released with a view to harnessing their errant tendencies in the service of the GARJAAP. But now, the question on the lips of every waking creative was the same. Are you my Muse? GARJAAP officials had no idea how to respond to the wide eyed entreaty of their captives and scurried post haste to Google, Wikkipedia, and other sources of reputable knowledge to try to fathom the answer.

Monday, June 28, 2010


The house is infested with rats, David and I have Bali bung eye and are barely able to see. On the other side of the ocean my nearest and dearest struggle with the third friend to suicide this year and deep chasms of emotion stream through my bloodshot eyes. Such a tragic loss.
In the rice fields that surround me the earth has been ploughed and raked, the remnants of last seasons crop returned to the earth as fodder for the new. This morning the tiered waters that surrounded us have been planted by bands of bent backs, straw hats and limbs muddied to elbow and knee.
New shoots, like hope, greening still waters. The light of love will see us through.

Friday, June 25, 2010

Legitimately illegitimate

My camera has broken and I cant find a pic in my previous stash to inspire me. I want to know who is reading this anyway and why I am pulled back to it again after 2 months of traipsing across the globe to bury my mother, lose miserably at golf, and tennis and archery at some Club Med in the Whitsundays and catch up with nearest and dearest in Oz. What makes me think that anything I might be writing on the topic of writing and living in Bali might be worthwhile? Or is "worthwhile" just some erroneous concept that I need to ditch completely and stop bogging myself down with the ridiculous need to legitimise what I am doing.? Illegitimate blogging...that's what I'm doing. Although secretly I wish, like in the case of several other peoples stories I've heard, that my blog would get picked up by some publisher or film maker or something and become a huge "success". Legitimised. On second thoughts....I think I might have a picture that fits my headspace right now.