For a time this year, I thought, what is the point of drawing and painting when a moment can be captured in a photograph?
More recently, I decided I wanted to create, to paint but what? What is it that brings me joy? Typing this stream of thoughts, of words, I believed would help.
My ego demanded without ego. Whatever that meant.
What to include? A grand plan to capture heart, body, and soul.
Pencil sketches of a partly used up tube of watercolour paint were completed. An analogy of a point in my life. This subject did not progress even though I could see it completed in my mind’s eye.
During a mindless scrolling session in Pinterest, a portrait of a pink flamingo caught my eye. That might be it!
The first hurdle was to rouse myself to search out supplies. Packed away for four years since moving house.
My husband took control; during your birthday week, on Friday 21st October you shall paint!
On the day before, car partially reversed from the garage, we rootled through cupboards, boxes, at last: watercolour pencils, bought awhile ago in Port Douglas and an aged watercolour paper scrap, this’ll do for a sketch.
The day slipped away so fast including, the making and eating of French onion soup and sipping of French Blanc de Blancs along the way. Time disappeared while sketching, colouring, waiting, and repeating.
Two green bridges are under construction in Brisbane. The first just beyond the pictured Story Bridge from Kangaroo Point to the Central Business District, funded by the City Council, the second linking South Bank with the State Government’s Queen’s Wharf and casino development.
While quenching our thirsts with a pint of onsite brewed Felon’s Supreme Lager we admired the graceful progress of tugs jostling a barge laden with steel tubes, destined to the location of the first of the bridges.
My husband stated he thought the whole week had been slightly off. I tried not to dwell on the comment while patiently awaiting the arrival of our late night Campari spritzes.
Upon reflection, from leaving the house, to awaiting the arrival of the delayed 232 bus that subsequently caught a telegraph pole and lost a wing mirror; the odds did seem to be stacked against a fun filled evening.
Prior to hearing the graunching noise of metal against timber, I was considering the logistics of our bus, ferry, and walk journey; would we run out of time to be able to get something to eat.
We made up time by going against our frugal endeavours, taking an Uber X. Of course the roadworks on Grey Street led to us being dropped off way past our South Bank destination. After attempting a fast walk hobble with my dickie right leg while negotiating phone wielding zombie pedestrians we were embraced by the familiar surroundings of Julius Pizzeria.
We gladly snuggled into our spots in the worst seats in the bar while the maître d’ apologetically explained the lack of tables was due to school holidays, the ballet, and the show we were going to see.
Thoroughly enjoying perfectly prepared shaved mortadella with crumbed stuffed olives followed by a shared mixed mushroom pizza and rocket, Parmesan salad, we had sufficient time for a bottle of Soave, ricotta dumplings with Nutella and fiore de latte gelato and espresso martinis.
A ten minute walk delivered us to the Brisbane Convention and Exhibition Centre. Purchasing a bottle of water over sauv blanc being the solitary white wine choice, we headed for our seats via the furthest door into the auditorium.
To my left an Amazonian sized person wearing black top and knee flesh revealing faded jeans was reading a book. They appeared to be with others to their left. The two seats to my husband’s right were unoccupied until moments before the performance commenced when a scantily clad wisp of a girl accompanied by a Nebuchadnezzar like blond bearded chap took their seats.
In keeping with the ‘imaginary living room Olympian theme’, a rainbow sequinned leotard wearing Jonathan van Ness thrilled us with somersaults, splits, and jetes across a gigantic rainbow flag coloured gymnast mat. We were hooked!
While Jonathan exited to loosen their genitalia and change costume, we were left in the hands of an English person whose content included jokes about their gran’s dementia that poured icy water on our elated spirits.
We had lost interest by the time Jonathan reappeared in a short black sequinned dress and matching capelet. The side view we had of the stage was okay however, I had difficulty following the mostly US focussed monologue. It may have helped if the screen above the stage had been used to display closeups of Jonathan speaking.
My husband’s interest was piqued by the righthand waif’s apparent cerebral connection to Jonathan as she reacted to their every movement and punchline. Predictably they gave a standing ovation at the end of the show.
Meanwhile the lefthand Amazonian spent the performance scrunching their soft drink bottle. Once empty they bounced it bonk, bonk, bonk on their knees. Would it have been rude of me to grab it from their hand to discard it?
We did not need to rush home to Stan as he was having a sleepover, so we headed across Victoria Bridge, picked up bags of cashews and roasted almonds, and strolled to Burnett Lane for a few roadies at Death and Taxes.
After queuing for what felt like an eternity we were seated by the window. A Malvern born (what a small World) waitperson took our order and suggested we should check with fellow patrons before tucking into our snacks as there maybe someone with a high intolerance to nuts in the vicinity. We cautiously opened only the cashews, aren’t they legumes? We were vigilant, no adverse reactions were observed.
The evening wrapped up with an Uber X journey home around 1:00 am.
Through curiosity, I am drawn to people who are larger than life; gregarious, and artistic types. At the same time, I stand in an awe filled shadow of them.
Fascination with them taps and saps my energy. Withdrawal is the only way for me to be able to recharge.
My flexible and compromising nature supports them in taking the lead, providing they do and say in line with my values; altruism, authenticity, equity, integrity, and time efficiency.
The consequence of them behaving at odds with my values is a barely perceptible departure. There in body; my spirit having long since flown.
When my thirst for them is sated they drift spectrally to the periphery of my consciousness.
Occasionally, a human awakens my soul. Through love, friendship, and shared experiences they become an extension of my being. Neither time nor distance changes the heartfelt connection I feel for them. The bond remains in life and beyond.
It has been ten years since I set up this WordPress blog.
With the exception of the photo of QEII at the end, the below pictures are from an area at the rear of buildings facing Grey Street, South Brisbane. Overhead railway lines travel between South Brisbane and Roma Street stations. The previously unused space has been transformed into Fish Lane, Town Square.
Brisbane, Brissy, Brisvegas has the reputation of being a big country town.
You need a body in Sydney and labels (darling) in Melbourne.
People who have moved to the city, between states and countries or have travelled extensively overseas are open to new friends.
Being from England, a proportion of Australians assume I am from and have lived in London. It is as though London is England.
Talk of Australia becoming a republic are renewed among lobbyists and pollies.
I have no idea how Stan feels when he is suffering. Our dog whisperer friend said they deal with pain differently.
He squeaks when impatient to do something, usually as the humans are holding him up. Stan snorts when he is excited. He has no volume control when greeting people he trusts. And utters a high pitched screech when you tread on his tail; who wouldn’t!
On Thursday morning, Stan’s face was so swollen we could barely see his dark brown right eye. The vet prescribed pain killers and antibiotics to treat an abscess under his back molar.
Over the past days the swelling has gone down. Stan seems a little subdued, seeking us out to sit close to us. Even between us on the sofa. I feel double as much love for him when he is off his game.
We are going to get another opinion about the need to extract the tooth. We want to do the right thing for our twelve year-young fur kid who brings us so much joy.