G'day.
The refrigerator ticks like a clock - a ticking clock that keeps food fresh and cold. It has been clicking and ticking for the last several months. I should be concerned, but not knowing what it means is just fine for now. It is still rather new and it still keeps things cold. Just a nervous tick. Nervous it might run out of food, perhaps. Is your refrigerator running out of food? Then you better catch it, and fill it with food. Ah, pranks. It quietly moans as if to gain strength for the next click, the next tick.
In between ticks I hear rain dripping off the roof and pinging the air conditioner. Not as steady as the fridge - more occasional. A polyrhythmic exercise - 7 vs 4 and 9 vs 5 and other more complex combinations that would make any ethnomusicologist salivate. It's been an all day event with brief downpours, sullen drizzles and occasional placekeeping mists. The rain picks up steam and the beat outside on the A/C unit turns into a timpani roll. There's an occasional rimshot as an acorn makes its way from branch to air to roof to air to air conditioner to air to my ear to my brain to my hands to the keyboard to the screen to the blog to your eyes to your brain. STOP. These heavier beats are few and far between, sometimes days measure the lapses in rain music. The refrigerator continues to keep time.
Tomorrow sunshine will fill the outside world. Sun - the glow with a silent voice all its own, Vitamin D, antidepressant, grower of food, maker of light, Moonfriend - Sun. While I can appreciate its appeal, I prefer its spinoffs more than the original. Shade, moonshine and earthshine among others have more mystery and depth than the yellow circle in the corner of every child's drawing. I'm not being totally fair. The sun holds its fair share of secrets. It has a great poker face. So great we're told from a young age not to even look at it. The moon we look at almost every time it makes an appearance, ever changing but predictable. Rise and fall, wax and wane. Alias: Wayne Gibbous.
The sun itself is the bright-eyed cover for its sinister pox. Sun spots have a twisted agenda all their own - a motion and language all their own. See spot. See spot run. Sun spot run. Sun spots are the price we pay for the bounty the Sun gives us. Wayne Gibbous (if that is his real name) would care more about Sun Spots and their malicious intents if he didn't maintain such a safe distance from the yellow menace. Plus, he only shows up for a few days then hides on the dark side listening to Pink Floyd. The rest of us are stuck listening to Katrina and the Waves, day after day after day. Lucky bastard.
So, that's a rough introduction to the scene and a few bit players (and a major character) that find themselves knee deep in Vitamin D on a most peculiar October night and day.
G'night.
