As the weather has been getting colder and colder thoughts turn to dessert after dinner. The inevitable realisation that once again we made a detour around the chocolate aisle thinking we won't want anything. Yet night after night thoughts turn to chocolate. We've resorted to this, and all things considered it's not bad.
Continuing on with the dematerialisation of my collection is this little beauty. They're not messing about by calling them Extra Thin; the most delicate of strands crumbled every time I so much as looked at them. The whole design, while fairly busy, has a lightness to the touch that successfully conveys what was inside. Only now do I notice the thin white rules over the thicker bands of orange. It's a shame they forced the scrumptious lettering into the awkward shape on the side though. The inside was just as delicately thought through. Each bundle of noodles were tight together with a single loop of thin white thread. I made extra care to leave one bundle inside just as an excuse to leave it in the cupboard for just that little bit longer.
The cleaning fun didn't stop yesterday. Almost all of my waking hours was spent cleaning the walls, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom from mould and of course attempting to spring clean. Apparently these piano mechanisms aren't aesthetically pleasing enough for our house, and I finally lost the argument (I'll let you all know that I haven't gotten rid of them, but the battle has indeed been lost). I'll admit that they're not the most pleasing of objects, but I love looking at the mechanism needed for each piano key.
I feel that by dematerialising them and putting them up here means they're not really gone in some sense. There's a whole essay on post materiality regarding this trend that I'd love to sink my teeth into but instead I'll get you to read Bruce Sterling's last Viridian note instead. Whenever you feel cluttered by too much stuff, read it. Hell, just read the last half. But read it. If reading isn't your thing, watch him discuss his closing talk at the recent Reboot conference. It's slow and only streaming, but well worth listening to him talk about recognising material objects as fossilised social relationships and how we are moving on to looking at our possessions as flows, not as finite materiality.
I was hoping for something more substantial today but I ended up using all of my surplus energy rearranging the office. Before I got to the halfway point I decided to clean the blinds. The feather duster wasn't good enough. Neither was spraying it clean. 5 hours with sugar soap and I've completely lost the afternoon to these bloody blinds. I swear I wiped each slat five times and the bastard still isn't perfect. I had such high hopes for how I was going to spend the rest of the day.
Meanwhile, this lovely oven was left on the nature strip across the road for a week or so. Would have been nice to have seen the dials intact.
I mentioned the bushfire road trip yesterday and decided it would be worth putting up a what we came across. The amount of destruction is quite disturbing, as you can see. Marysville is gone; completely and utterly burnt down to the ground. The only business still standing was the bakery. Almost all of the homes have been lost, save a few that somehow escaped the random path of fire. Kingslake seemed at first to not have been so affected until you realise that the shopping strip was mildly unaffected; whole neighbourhoods surrounding the town are gone.
From a purely aesthetic viewpoint there were lots of nice contrasts between order and chaos: the still standing structures and the warped debris surrounding it. That somehow the raging fires only affected some buildings and left others standing for no foreseeable reason still surprises me. I'm tempted to discuss this charming juxtaposition further but question it's taste. Walking around and taking photographs gave me a strange sense of voyeurism - recording the loss of lives and history with a cool detachment - compounded by the urban playground I was frolicking in when it all happened.