Nothing to Say

Moving onwards and hopefully upwards.

At worst, I’d like to consider it a sidewards movement – just as long a sit’s not backward, or stagnant.

The key is movement, and some sort of new territory.

I am definitely moving. Or the earth is shifting beneath me. This second option is entirely plausible – I have a sense of being way out of my depth, of struggling through shifting sands. A sense that I could be swallowed at any moment.

Last night I dreamed I was at a wild and wintery beach (again – I have dreamed this previously). The waves were huge, and carried an air of cartoonery with them. There were surfers trying to catch them, but the waves were dropping to nothing just before hitting the shore. I was waiting to be smashed by them, to be dumped, to see the familiar brown haze of sand all around me. But it didn’t happen. I stayed dry, with the wind whipping around me.

This morning I dreamed the Kymbo wore a corporate suit and went to work, while the childs and I waved our farewells in our pyjamas.

And the world turns another day. Monkey’s fling poo at people, some kites are warrios, chicken still tastes great with ham, a rich tomato sauce and melted cheese.

I am digging Feist, and Kym is making owls. I should be ripping a CD of Dad’s latest outback trip photos. Instead I think I shall clean up and head off to sleep.

Best regards.