i ran my hands over her town
What dri Did On Her Involuntary Day Off, illustrated.
He's talking about a city, btw, just in case scratching at female pronoun-ed doors is making you screw up your face. Heh.
I had been narking yesterday about having to do the list court on a day when I wanted the freedom and mental space to just write. The list court moves fast enough so I can't write but slow enough for me to get very bored and very frustrated. I love my favourite judicial list person but really I didn't want to be in her court yesterday.
So when I got notification last night that none of us monitors were required today, I went to bed slightly irritated but determined to make writing today's goal. Alarm turned off but I still woke at nine and hopped out of bed. Rent paid, iNano loaded, threw the digicam into the bag with all the journals and took myself out of the studio. Breakfast and diarising at the writing cafe and then I got on the bus to Circular Quay. I had the vague notion of secreting myself away up the other end of the Botanic Gardens which I had never explored.
As it turned out, I was really in the mood to walk and it was lovely lovely weather for it. So I trotted happily right from Circular Quay all around the back of the Opera House and down into the Botanic Gardens and then along the entire curve of the sea wall right to Mrs Macquarie's Chair. Is there actually be supposed to be a chair there? Because I didn't see a chair and I was looking. *pouts*
It was glorious. And slightly perturbing cos my stroll coincided with all the executive hoi polloi pouring out of their offices to pound along the paths in various states of undress, pale and tanned and bronzed and burning. And there's me all covered up in jacket and hat and glasses and long cargoes strolling along with my bag on my back, earphones in, beaming at water and grass and stone. School holidays so there were kids and young families and young couples and old couples everywhere. And there were dog obedience lessons conducted along the way which made me laugh because I might not have believed that if I read it in a novel but there y'are.
It was kinda lovely how the sculpted gardens gave way to almost wild cliffs of lush green grass and irregular shelves of stone. Made me think of how Mr Gardiner said "Wildness and artifice, you see, Lizzie, all in the one setting." Gaawwww. And heh I got so used to trees and grass and water that when I came to an actual road at the end, I was totally horrified. But there's also a pool and hm, who on earth is Andrew "Boy" Charlton? *googles* Oh right, Aussie swimmer. Hm.
Came back in a bit of a circle through the shadier ways, past the white statue of the Boy Extracting Thorn, and settled myself down by an enclosed tree to waking dreams of Dan Spielman with Crazy Diamond in one ear and the trickle of jazz (double bass and trumpet, down from the Conservatorium between classes maybe?) from just beyond the bushes. Ahhhh it was niiice ...
So I dug out the digicam and took the first of what I shall title the Ground Level Series. Thumbnails so click for detail.
Yes, I know, very ground level.
Tried again:
And again:
And this was what I was trying to get:
See? Bridge.
And this I call Fork.
Cos that grey thing in the foreground is my knee. Heh.
Moseyed on back to Circular Quay in search of cheap food, leering at Sydney Theatre Company posters along the way. Why I don't know because Dan's not actually on any of the posters but, y'know, twas the principle of the thing. *nod*
The wind had picked up something fierce by then so I sat in the shade of one of those tall black columns behind the Opera House, trying not to alarm the guy working at his desk on the other side of the smoked glass, and ate a cold but very good samosa ... or as they spelt it, somosa. *rolls eyes*
With this view:
Bit annoyed at the focus on that but I was trying to get the shot while the space was clear of people. Relatively succeeded. And yep, that long black shadow is the column behind me. Such a great space, gah. I was totally praising the genius of Utzon for insisting that people should be able to walk right around the House. Genius.
And I got mildly obsessed with trying to capture the reflection of the ground in the windows of the Opera House:
Yeah, I might have another go at that.
But because I hadn't actually done any writing by that point, I took myself back to the gardens. Was not going to leave without at least one scene done. Only I took more pix before digging out the journals.
What I was actually trying to get was the bench:
And see, down toward the water, ahhh so lovely.
This, however, has to be my favourite of the whole day.
Total sucker for objects in the foreground of beautiful backgrounds. The whole objects in space concept, fucking love that. And that's my writing bag, yes.
See, aren't you impressed there's not a single pic of myself in this post? *lol*
And then She Wrote. *snort* Well, I've set up an important scene so I should have no problem picking up momentum tomorrow in court. As it was, I had to force myself to pack up and make my way back to the bus stop. I got several odd looks from the tourists wandering the Quay, them in their short sleeves and truncated cargoes, cos there I am all covered up. "Yeah, you go ahead and laugh, mate, don't whine at me when our fierce Aussie sun sears you to a crisp, I'll be nice and unsizzled in the comfort of my own clothes." Cos, y'know, just cos I'm Indian doesn't mean I don't burn. And ow.
As it is, I only have the slightest sun headache and a scene in the journal and several pages of notes for future inclusion. I also got so relaxed that I completely forgot I had intended to stop off at Kino to trawl through their sexuality section and completely forgot I had intended to make a purchase at Gleebooks. Noooo, I was too dreamy and content with my foot up on the windowseat, watching the people in the city go past. No matter, I could do both tomorrow or put them off til next pay. It's all good.
Time out from the world, y'know? Most amazing phenomenon.
*le sigh, le Snarski*
He's talking about a city, btw, just in case scratching at female pronoun-ed doors is making you screw up your face. Heh.
I had been narking yesterday about having to do the list court on a day when I wanted the freedom and mental space to just write. The list court moves fast enough so I can't write but slow enough for me to get very bored and very frustrated. I love my favourite judicial list person but really I didn't want to be in her court yesterday.
So when I got notification last night that none of us monitors were required today, I went to bed slightly irritated but determined to make writing today's goal. Alarm turned off but I still woke at nine and hopped out of bed. Rent paid, iNano loaded, threw the digicam into the bag with all the journals and took myself out of the studio. Breakfast and diarising at the writing cafe and then I got on the bus to Circular Quay. I had the vague notion of secreting myself away up the other end of the Botanic Gardens which I had never explored.
As it turned out, I was really in the mood to walk and it was lovely lovely weather for it. So I trotted happily right from Circular Quay all around the back of the Opera House and down into the Botanic Gardens and then along the entire curve of the sea wall right to Mrs Macquarie's Chair. Is there actually be supposed to be a chair there? Because I didn't see a chair and I was looking. *pouts*
It was glorious. And slightly perturbing cos my stroll coincided with all the executive hoi polloi pouring out of their offices to pound along the paths in various states of undress, pale and tanned and bronzed and burning. And there's me all covered up in jacket and hat and glasses and long cargoes strolling along with my bag on my back, earphones in, beaming at water and grass and stone. School holidays so there were kids and young families and young couples and old couples everywhere. And there were dog obedience lessons conducted along the way which made me laugh because I might not have believed that if I read it in a novel but there y'are.
It was kinda lovely how the sculpted gardens gave way to almost wild cliffs of lush green grass and irregular shelves of stone. Made me think of how Mr Gardiner said "Wildness and artifice, you see, Lizzie, all in the one setting." Gaawwww. And heh I got so used to trees and grass and water that when I came to an actual road at the end, I was totally horrified. But there's also a pool and hm, who on earth is Andrew "Boy" Charlton? *googles* Oh right, Aussie swimmer. Hm.
Came back in a bit of a circle through the shadier ways, past the white statue of the Boy Extracting Thorn, and settled myself down by an enclosed tree to waking dreams of Dan Spielman with Crazy Diamond in one ear and the trickle of jazz (double bass and trumpet, down from the Conservatorium between classes maybe?) from just beyond the bushes. Ahhhh it was niiice ...
So I dug out the digicam and took the first of what I shall title the Ground Level Series. Thumbnails so click for detail.
Yes, I know, very ground level.
Tried again:
And again:
And this was what I was trying to get:
See? Bridge.
And this I call Fork.
Cos that grey thing in the foreground is my knee. Heh.
Moseyed on back to Circular Quay in search of cheap food, leering at Sydney Theatre Company posters along the way. Why I don't know because Dan's not actually on any of the posters but, y'know, twas the principle of the thing. *nod*
The wind had picked up something fierce by then so I sat in the shade of one of those tall black columns behind the Opera House, trying not to alarm the guy working at his desk on the other side of the smoked glass, and ate a cold but very good samosa ... or as they spelt it, somosa. *rolls eyes*
With this view:
Bit annoyed at the focus on that but I was trying to get the shot while the space was clear of people. Relatively succeeded. And yep, that long black shadow is the column behind me. Such a great space, gah. I was totally praising the genius of Utzon for insisting that people should be able to walk right around the House. Genius.
And I got mildly obsessed with trying to capture the reflection of the ground in the windows of the Opera House:
Yeah, I might have another go at that.
But because I hadn't actually done any writing by that point, I took myself back to the gardens. Was not going to leave without at least one scene done. Only I took more pix before digging out the journals.
What I was actually trying to get was the bench:
And see, down toward the water, ahhh so lovely.
This, however, has to be my favourite of the whole day.
Total sucker for objects in the foreground of beautiful backgrounds. The whole objects in space concept, fucking love that. And that's my writing bag, yes.
See, aren't you impressed there's not a single pic of myself in this post? *lol*
And then She Wrote. *snort* Well, I've set up an important scene so I should have no problem picking up momentum tomorrow in court. As it was, I had to force myself to pack up and make my way back to the bus stop. I got several odd looks from the tourists wandering the Quay, them in their short sleeves and truncated cargoes, cos there I am all covered up. "Yeah, you go ahead and laugh, mate, don't whine at me when our fierce Aussie sun sears you to a crisp, I'll be nice and unsizzled in the comfort of my own clothes." Cos, y'know, just cos I'm Indian doesn't mean I don't burn. And ow.
As it is, I only have the slightest sun headache and a scene in the journal and several pages of notes for future inclusion. I also got so relaxed that I completely forgot I had intended to stop off at Kino to trawl through their sexuality section and completely forgot I had intended to make a purchase at Gleebooks. Noooo, I was too dreamy and content with my foot up on the windowseat, watching the people in the city go past. No matter, I could do both tomorrow or put them off til next pay. It's all good.
Time out from the world, y'know? Most amazing phenomenon.
*le sigh, le Snarski*