Gertrude’s Diary #145 – Meditations

As I sit here at my desk by the window, with the sky glowing an empty blue through the trees outside, I’m struck once again by the fact that I have no idea what I will write about.  Also, that it’s rather early in the morning to be awake considering that I don’t have to go to work again for 5 days. What drives me to wake with the dawn? Why does the sound of currawongs and cockatoos seem to be the only alarm clock I need? Why do I get such a thrill from seeing the moon set in a pink and purple sky, the darkness fading in the glory of day? How did I come to sound so up-myself?

Turning my gaze from the window, I cast idly around for inspiration. Perhaps it will be in the directions to a farm near Taralga, written untidily in a gold gel-pen on the notepad next to me. Is the incronguity of the golden words and their quotidian purpose a subject on which I could base my blog? I wonder. I doubt.

Frucken hell. How do people keep this crap up? I would want to chop my fingers off if I wrote like this all the time.  John and The Editor are right; I do only have one voice.  How am I ever going to break into the literary world if all I can muster is this earnest and sometimes wryly humorous style?  Maybe I shouldn’t give up blog writing after all.

I have now recovered from the great lantern making workshop of last Saturday. It was me against the thousands, cutting tape, measuring bamboo sticks, taping them together, wiring candles onto the frames, painting paper with glue and food colouring, sticking the paper onto bamboo frames, more cutting bamboo, it WAS INSANE. But you know how last week in this blog I wrote that work was good? I had such a fantastic feeling from working for 4 hours with people that I will probably never see again for no reward except the joy of sharing knowledge. Time literally flew; one moment it was 10 am and the next it was 2 pm and we’d run out of stuff. Trust me on this. It you could bottle that feeling and save it for a blue day, you’d never need anti-depressants again.

Then Backyard Backanalia on Saturday night, with the highlight from an evening of highlights being The Cashews, the duo who know how to open your heart chakra and pour a big fat helping of feel-good in there. Then Hashemoto and The Ellis Collective on Sunday, a beautiful moment that stretched for an afternoon on the edge of the mountain; it was a fine weekend.  Canberra; I love you.  Canberra’s musicians; I thank you with all my heart for the precious gifts of your talents.

Here endeth the lesson.

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