unexpected guests

fallen maple leaves
flipping on our polished floor,
untreed ecstatics

Hazelbrook got a new bridge last night. After more than 120 years of township, a (pedestrian)bridge finally spans the Great Western Highway, linking the station directly with the northern part of the town. Before going to bed for what turned out to be a restless night, we watched the raising of a huge crane, which held an enormous yellow two fingered V to a pitch sky. Later the single steel span of bridge made its way along the closed highway for installation in the prepared location. This morning, there it was, and quite a surprise too. The design will probably polarize opinion, for it has the look of a giant meccano set about it. It certainly makes a statement.

Listening to the marvellous Fantasia on a theme by Thomas Tallis by Vaughan Williams. I can't put this sublime piece into any desciptive context - nothing comprising words, anyway. It has no counterpart in the language. I am swept away by it - emotionally, intellectually. Kotoba ga nai.

Raining outside and quite wild too. Tom is sleeping after our umpteenth star wars encounter and a lengthy digression into the story of the fourth pig (after The Three Little Pigs). We have run out of story books and my poor imagination has been pressed into unwilling service.

thin-lipped morn
the garbage truck's fitful squeal
enters my dream

three gems

In what seems like a splurge of cinematic experience, but really is only a correction, Nadia and I have watched three very different movies in the last week. None of them leap off the page of the movie mainstream, and thankfully so.

Woody Allen's Whatever Works, explores very little new territory in the Allensphere, with the themes of love, mortality, the meaning of life and so forth being given yet another outing. Navel-gazing aside (some have argued that this is the sum total of Allen's concerns), the script has enough zing and the characters enough quirkiness to make the movie entertaining. Larry David competently plays the 'Woody' character, adding an element of malice to the obligatory neurotic Allen persona.

Ozu's An Autumn Afternoon is the last in the series of extended vignettes of Tokyo, this one set in 1962. With a similar texture and cinematic feel to Tokyo Story (see April 8, 2011) the movie explores the changes occuring in post-war Japan, the decline of family obligation and subsequent isolation of an aging generation. Sad, beautiful, occasionally funny, this is a film that draws the viewer in. The invitation is subtle and allows us to become a part of ebb and flow life of the character's lives. Hollywood, take note.

The Visitor is a palliative for those afflicted with the (irrational) fear that they will be swamped by illegal aliens. Beautifully cast, well-scripted, The Visitor operates within that sphere of ambiguity that makes it possible for us to see that 'the other' is as vulnerable as we are. The ending leaves open a number of possibilities, and admirably refuses to resolve the plot in the usual manner.

lake woodford

This morning I took a walk out to Lake Woodford. I hadn't been by the lake for a few years and was pleasantly surprised at how full it was. In recent past-times there had been tell-tale watermark rings along the shore, showing how seriously the drought had bitten. The Lake is not directly a part of our current water supply but is held in reserve. It was well worth the long walk, about two hours, because the lake and surrounding mountains were so lovely. Cold windy gusts blowing ripples to the sun's luminous display on the water.

The other point worth making is the fact that now it is possible to legally do the whole circuit from Winbourne Rd to Clearview Pde(or vice-versa) without incurring a $10,000 fine for trespass. Of course, nobody obeyed those warnings anyway, but now, at least, there is no need to leap into the bushes if one hears a Sydney Water truck approaching.

Score one for the responsible citizenry of the Mid Mountains. Two for uncommon common sense.

I heard a fragment of a new Parrot 5 song yesterday - actually, a terribly new song, given the timing.

So let's meet again in Abbottabad
Under a shady tree
And you can play a navy seal
And I'll be Osama B.

-which I believe is only the chorus. When I get details of the whole song, I'll post here for Parrot 5 fans.

no through traffic

Today our street closed for a few hours because of a gas leak. So after Tom came home from school, we went out on the road and played frisbee for an hour or so. It was one of those slightly surreal occasions when you know you shouldn't be doing something but in fact you are. Reflexive force of habit kept me somewhat on edge, looking out for cars, even though I knew that there were adequate road blocks in place. And of course, this brought back for Nadia and me the many times we played out on our respective suburban roads as children, and how completely normal that was. I can remember kicking a ball with a friend for hours on end with very few cars in evidence. Drivers also seemed to be more careful on residential roads as these were clearly places that kids played.

Darkness is setting in more quickly each day now, and winter seems to be really only just around the corner. Or maybe, at the end of the long trails of golden leaves that are pretty much everywhere at the moment. Or even in the heaps that congregate in chaotic entanglements of orange and red, at any obliging ditch.

And still, and yet, huge events elsewhere reverberate on the same wind that draws these leaves to the ground. And there are really only questions to ask, ultimately.