Meanderings

...is not at all bad.

Unless you're, you know, a brooding vampire with a soul and a curse and a billowing black coat and a no longer existing series.

Oh yeah. I've so been a-watching the Angel dvds I bought recently. Joss Whedon, you're my hero.

(Ah, Cameron. Where did you go? Oh, yeah. That's where you went.)

I've also been watching some of my old videos (me hearties, me hearties, pieces of eight etc), and found a stand up routine by Greg Fleet. In it, he talks about having a 'perfect moment', and that you're lucky if you have 7 or 8 of them in a lifetime.

The first six months that I spent in Katoomba are my perfect moment. Which, yes, is stretching the concept of 'moment' just a tad, but it's my blog so nerneenerner. I hereby present my series of moments that make up that one 'perfect moment' (with appropriate fanfare and occasional creaky noises):


Sitting by the front door, cat wrapping her tail around my feet, steam from tea rising towards me, while the Katoomba mists welcome me to the mountains, writhing, curling into my house, exploring tendrils into the loungeroom, drifting into the kitchen, fading before reaching the bedrooms. While I sit, at the centre, sipping my tea and beaming.

Following the newly laid gaslines home, drunken in the crisp a.m., stars clear above me. Watching, marvelling, at the clarity of the skies, counting the stars in the Milky Way. Walking to the station at 5am, laughing into the foggy darkness, breathing in the moisture in the air.

The smell of pine from the line of trees hanging over the footpath. Relishing the goosebumps, embracing the cold, stripping my skin of the city poisons, revelling in every icy breath.

I am there no longer, but somewhere, somewhen, I am sipping tea, tendrils of steam and mist nestling in my hair, streaming around and through me, and in that moment I am wholly content.