all those Important Things

solstice. and flowers, up in qarrtsiluni, in a poem titled “Transformer”- it caught my attention with the second line, and then stunned me with the last lines:

I used to think you're solid,
as I'm: like petals that
speak to the colourblind…

- Nicholas Y.B. Wong

~

in celebration of solstice, i went to the spa. and it was so good to be there again. i haven't been there for 3 weeks, with all the renovation going on. and i had a surprise book with me- it's like the story of the cousins of the gribble brothers. it's written by the Australian author Peter Carey (that's why i picked it in the library, thinking of 2028 and Elle, and not being able to remember if i ever read a book by an Australian author). the title is: “Theft”. it's about a painter and his brother. here some lines:

So clock this: eight miles out Bellingen, NewSouthWales, me in my shorts and bare feet and Amberstreet like some crane or heron with his short upper body and his long thin legs and cinched-in belt and the whole of his skeleton throwing all its force into his eyes as he looked down at my canvas. The work had a sort of nailed-down fuck-you quality with al the process showing. I had already begun to glue down rectangles of canvas on to the broader field. Even in the warm misty sunlight it looked very bloody good indeed.

..If I have made myself sound calculating, let me tell you: I had not the least fucking idea what I was doing.

the guy's name? Butcher Bones.

one peculiarity of the book: it’s written in switching points of views of Butcher Bones and his brothers, who is slightly mentally handicapped – in his narrative, all those Important Words were written like this: with capital letters, conveying the irony of all the Important Things that were happening around him.