Where Do I Walk, Then?

Today I reinstate this weblog. I’ve shuffled files around on this server, and I’ve shuffled boxes and books around in my bedroom; it’s Spring, and time to re-organise, clear up, and start to think again. Last week I thought I was doing just so, but I wasn’t: I thought that I’d re-affirm my trust in Technology (my oh my what a foolish thing for a human to do!), and buy an ‘ergonomic’ stool. I thought it’d help me work at my computer, but it didn’t. So now is spring-cleaning; then was not.

I bought a stool, didn’t like it after a few days, so took it back. It was a journey for me, a journey from all-I-need-is-a-bit-more-Money-And-Stuff to remembering that it’s people and thinking and reading and love and simplicity that really make it — life— okay.

[ASIDE: The rain pisses down outside, it’s warm enough for bare feet and open windows, and oh! how happy it makes me.]

As I was leaving Harvey Norman (may they rot in hell), I had to go through the car-park, across some lawn and a flower bed, and up an embankment to get to the road. The Situation: people are allowed to walk out of their cars to the shop, across the car-park, and they are also allowed to walk along the road on the footpath — but there is nothing, no path, connecting the public roadway to the shop’s car-park. One must walk over the grass and through the flower bed to gain access to the road if one is on foot. Normally, or course, walking on this insulting attempt at making this horrid place beautiful wouldn’t bother me, but today there were two workmen leaning against a ute, and I had to walk past them to get to the footpath. They told me not to walk on the grass! How on Earth was I to get out of the fucking car-park?! My anger is seething, my blood boiling, and I can write no more…

People without cars are not despised by today’s urban planners, rather, their very existance is denied!


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