Timing on blog sites like this one seems to happen only at significant points of the year. Or rather, at the end of the year – like this one.
The year 2013 has been a rather huge one for me. There have been so many cool things and so many great achievements – and a few moments that totally bummed me out. This year I have:
- Performed in a major dance show, at which the amazing Turkish dancer Ozgen was the headlining act
- Performed in the first ever Pseudoskirt event in South Australia
- Gotten married (not Supple any more – I’m a Mooney… but changing names on things is really fucking hard work)
- Started studying ballet again
- Pretended I could keep up a bunch of new projects while still writing music critique (I can’t, it’s a lie)
- Achieved months on end of daily yoga practise
- Bought car tyres for the first time in my life; I did pretty well getting to my mid-30s before I had to do this
- Cleared my credit card debts – and kept control over any new spending
- Had pneumonia for the first time ever
- Left a busy, stressful job with one of the world’s largest media corporations, within which I had the most amazing team I’ve worked with in a long time
- Published The Art of Postcard Writing
- Published Music Journalism 101
- Was called a Master of a field
- Earned royalties for the first time ever
- Supported my husband through his really tough decision to leave Cauldron Black Ram.
- Fought the landlord in a court – and won
- Gone back into business for myself…. and am kicking goals
- Had my Music Journalism 101 listed as a first-year text in a Bachelor of Arts in the UK (big squeeee)
- Planned side projects that are actually happening…. stay tuned for those!
Here’s to the end of an epic year
I hope your year has been as awesome as mine has been. All the best to my regular readers for their continued support. Even though I’ve neglected you in the last couple of months! Drop me a line and let me know what exciting things are on your horizon for the new year.
Random fiction to take you into the new year
All I saw was bare feet. They walked without much care along the concrete curb. They were scuffed and a bit smudged but not really dirty. Not dirty like I would expect the feet to be of someone who is always in bare feet.
The careless walking was a hallmark of someone who is always in bare feet.
Such a contradiction.
I don’t much care for who is above the ankles. The haphazardly rolled up jeans that kind of sat above the ankle, more like it was shoved into place than that it was rolled.
Careless person perhaps? More likely a person who doesn’t put much stock into such piddling things.
It’s not really careless. Maybe it’s more realistic. Perfect shoes and nicely sitting pants has no character. It just makes you a drone.
Drones kill children. Why would you want to be a drone?
The feet have stayed with me. Scuffing along the curb and the pavement. Kicking and lifting the crispy leaves that float down behind on each step. It’s the wake of the walk on an urban street.
Captivating. It replays over and over again, the ultimate loop that represents life, reality and the state of the world. It’s a commentary on actual human beauty as well as the rough playing out of the world aroud it.
The dirt is not filthy or damaging or even germy.
It just is.
That’s why it’s essential. You couldn’t have the same picture with clean feet and a pristine environment, because that’s actually sick, and is the product of a sick mind who wants to control every single thing around itself.
When true beauty is chaotic.
Statements about truths are always half-finished sentences that don’t make sense when they stand on their own, preferring instead to be the islands of non-conformist expression.
The feet on the curb are the ultimate meditation. I could probably turn it into an examination of the nature of love and notions of wellbeing.
Or a consistent session of pondering and thought on just whatever is the Way of things.
The smallest things are the most significant things in our lives, yet most of the time people are so wrapped up in their own fairytale worlds that they don’t even notice.
Have you been taught to observe what is around you? Do you even see it when things change?
Do you even notice the universe pointing out to you what is significant. Much like has happened with me and the feet that won’t leave me alone.
All I have is that image of the feet, walking, scuffed, kicking leaves. Careless and beautiful. Meaningless, yet full of significance about the world.
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