The Ying and the Yang of 2003 and 2004

Low-fi talk about accepting life as it is.

I babble on about my sudden realisation about wanting to become an actor

Ray. Ray used to be a butcher till he chopped off two fingers with a boning knife and ended up condensing fiction at the Info Digest. Ray read copious amounts of text. Novels as thick as house bricks. War stories, romance, pulp horror and period classics. Ray didn't care. Rays fingers guided his mouse over everything he thought was bullshit and just deleted it. Bits that caught his attention for whatever reason, bits that glinted in the light, or shone through the water like mother of pearl, Ray would cut out and savour. He'd turn them over like precious objects, reading and rereading them with satisfied animal smile.

One night when he was working late, his daughter Christine turned up at the door of his office unannounced. Ray shut his eyes to a lot of things, but he wasn't blind. He could see she was sinking deeper and deeper into a place where there was no light. He asked her happened and the secret she'd been keeping from him poured out from her like a warm bloody rush. Ray grabbed onto her and held on. He felt like a man attempting to revive life - trying to bring it back from another realm. He knew he had to get them both up for air, swim them towards the surface toward the light. Ray put Christine in the passengers seat of his car and pointed it north. He drove through the night, the bonnet devouring the white lines of the highway.

Christine didn't stir until the heat of the morning sun filled the car. She sat for a long time in silence, gathering up the pieces of recollection available to her. The highway unfolded and unfolded. Eventually she looked over and asked her father 'Where are we going?' Ray looked at her for a moment and said 'Back to bloody nature.'

2006 baby