Graffiti

Graffiti is everywhere it seems, and mostly I growl at the ugliness and the mindlessness of the perpetrators.

This afternoon I came across a delightful story, about a graffiti wombat.

I hope you will follow THIS link and watch the brief video.

I am still smiling broadly.

Sunday Selections #394

Sunday Selections was originally brought to us by Kim of Frogpondsrock, as an ongoing meme where participants could post previously unused photos languishing in their files.
 
The meme is now continued by River at Drifting through life.  The rules are so simple as to be almost non-existent.  Post some photos under the title Sunday Selections and link back to River.  Clicking on any of the photos will make them embiggen. 
 
Like River I usually run with a theme.  This week I am returning to familiar obsessions.

Starting with the sky.

 Then to the garden.  Spring is very almost here.  Everywhere we look there are splashes of colour.

 The wattle is our national floral emblem and while it causes grief to many sufferers of hayfever, it is a strong hint that the cold weather has almost gone.

There are other things making me smile in the garden too.

 I am resorting to bad language in the garden too.  The cockatoos are indulging themselves again.  They are beheading daffodils and jonquils, nibbling on other blooms, ripping the leaves off tulips, digging up bulbs, munching on their tender shoots and generally vandalising the garden.

I have been employing the pump-action water pistol with glee.  And today we wrapped the area of most damage in chicken wire.  I do hope it reduces the destruction.  They only play this game for a month or so, but last year we got no tulips or double daffodils to bloom in the front yard.  We lost most of the spring star flowers too.

The King Parrots aren't entirely innocent either.  The camellias show signs of their presence.  Camellia buds are obviously crack cocaine for parrots.

Sunday Selections #393

Sunday Selections was originally brought to us by Kim of Frogpondsrock, as an ongoing meme where participants could post previously unused photos languishing in their files.
 
The meme is now continued by River at Drifting through life.  The rules are so simple as to be almost non-existent.  Post some photos under the title Sunday Selections and link back to River.  Clicking on any of the photos will make them embiggen. 
 
Like River I usually run with a theme.  Mostly snippets again this week.

Our weather has been variable.  Last Sunday our nearby hills were dusted with snow.

It was pretty, but didn't last.

As always we have spent (lots of) time watching the birds.  The next two photos are of a rare visitor.  I was struggling to identify it, but the lovely dinahmow nailed it for me.  We have a female Satin Bowerbird.  I hope to see her mate as well.  Isn't that blue eye lovely?

And then a red wattlebird which was intent on grooming for a considerable period of time.

I am fond of the wattlebirds.  They are often the first bird I hear in the morning (considerably before sparrow-fart) and the last in the evening.  

The last photo is a blatant sympathy ploy.  I have developed a sensitivity to something.  We cannot identify what it is, but there is obviously a LOT of it about.  It started on my lower back (which remains the worst).  I now have rashes on my arms, my legs, my hands, my feet, my neck, my shoulders, my butt, my boobs, my back and through my hair.  The itch is intolerable and they have been driving me bat-shit crazy and making me more bad tempered than usual.  Anti-histamines and soothing creams are providing limited relief.  Cross your fingers that we can identify and remove the culprit soon.

In much better news, my eldest brother who has been through a much more serious medical mystery is finally out of hospital.  He still has a long way to go, but recent progress has all been in the right direction.

WEP/ISWG August Challenge - A Change of Heart

The WEP (Write, Edit, Publish) Challenge so generously hosted by Denise Covey and Yolanda Renee is back.  Olga Godim and Nilanjana Bose have joined the team, providing welcome support to the doughty duo and adding to the wealth of ideas and talent.  Yolanda is not well and has been taking time out.  Sadly, the next challenge is her last.  She will be missed.

However, from this month WEP has joined forces with the IWSG (Insecure Writer's Support Group).  The collaboration will bring very welcome support to the WEP administrators and will also attract more entries.  And this greedy reader is loving that thought.

This month's challenge is A change of Heart.  Fiction, non-fiction, photography and poetry are welcome, which gives us a lot of scope.

Aren't Olga's badges stunning?

If you visit here and click on any names with a DL next to them you will be taken to some wonderful pieces.   As always I will marvel at the other participant's creations.  If you do visit, please leave comments to encourage the writers.  A little encouragement never goes astray.

Despite feeling intimidated by 'real' writers I am throwing my hat in the ring again.  I should also stress that I have never received anything but kindness and support from the other participants.

I have no idea where this tale came from, but it was insistent it be told...

***

Nine

Nicholas and Samuel (never Nick and Sam, no short cuts for this pair) are driven, perfectionists and high achievers.  Anything less is lazy, second rate,  and to be avoided at all costs. Their child, their most important joint creation, has to be perfect in every way before she is launched on to the world.

Millions of dollars and decades of gruelling work have gone into this project.  Secrecy has been paramount and no one other than Nicholas and Samuel is privy to all the details.
 
Chromosomes have been mapped and harvested.  Genes spliced.  Politicians, educators, scientists, surgeons, psychologists, historians, trend setters and carefully selected anonymous donors have contributed.  Most are unaware that there is a project and none know its extent.      

Nicholas and Samuel have provided the vision, and they have carefully ensured that the accolades and credit will be all theirs. 
  
Practicality and economies of scale demanded that each potential child be raised with her competitors.   Intelligence is of course a prerequisite.  Each child receives the same education and training, and is subject to the same rigorous testing.

Their education is not limited to academic subjects.  All are financially literate, politically and socially aware and versed in diplomacy.  Their artistic and musical exposure has been broad.  They are supple and fit, but not athletic.  They have been encouraged to study fashion and develop their own style.  Outlandish is a fatal flaw. Distinctive and memorable is essential. 

The field on which they play (and must excel) has been artificially levelled.  In the distance, but getting closer by the day, is the pinnacle they must climb.  The route is unclear, and what they take from their education may map the way. 
 
'Healthy competition' said Nicholas, as they watched from the gallery.  Samuel agreed, adding 'With the bonus of clear warnings about the price of imperfection.  This weekend is the decider, which they know.  Three left from the original eighteen.  A high attrition rate I suppose, but perfection is rare, valuable and worth sacrifices. '  

Each child is known and addressed only by their version number.   The chosen child will receive a name.  The current  Versions believe some variation of Kameela (which means perfection) will be the name one of them is awarded, before the remainder are culled.  Adiah (or prize) is another possibility.

Nicholas and Samuel agree that Version Nine is perhaps the most promising to date, but Eleven and Three cannot be written off.  Earlier Versions have not been wasted.  Constant rigorous evaluation has charted success and identified and eradicated physical, mental or emotional imperfections.  Version Eight's heart and lungs were perfect, and now serve Nine.  Three has one kidney from Two  (Eleven has the other) and another from Five.  Nine retains her liver, but Eleven and Three both have replacements. 

Components from other Versions which were of an acceptable standard and re-usable have been kept in storage.  They will be disposed of with the other failed Versions when the decision is made.  
  
The height and body mass of all three contenders is now perfectly acceptable.  Their features are regular and pleasing.  Skin tone and colour are flawless. Teeth are regular, white and cavity free.  Wasted or unnecessary organs like tonsils and adenoids have been discarded. 

The She who is selected will have no need to reproduce in outdated and old fashioned ways.  The organs and hormones required are prone to failure and a needless distraction.  They have been removed.     The capacity for sexual activity has been retained.  Sex can be a very useful tool.  All current versions are fully trained and expert in its application.

Of course Nicolas and Samuel have eyes and ears to watch and report back about the Versions' activities. 

You are such a comfort to me.  Am I mad, or are you really here?  I cannot see you, but I can hear you and I can feel your heart pounding. They would discard me if they knew. 
 

          Of course you can feel my heart.  It is in your chest.  And is your heart now, as it always was.

Not mine, but ours.

          It is exciting isn't it?  Exciting, but frightening because we are still in danger.  Their project is nearly at an end, and ours  about to begin if all goes well. 

They see themselves as omnipotent.  All powerful.  All knowing.  Luckily they are poor at reading body language, or interpreting emotional cues and cannot read thoughts.

          Of course not.  Why would they try?  We are not and have never been human to them.  Cattle can only feel fear and hunger.   We have certainly been given both.  We cannot think.  We cannot plan.  One, and one only of us will be useful.  The rest are extra to requirements.

 
Three days or less now.  I do hope I/we can triumph.  So close, but there is no room for error. 

          Perfection.  Prize.   How little they know.  Nemesis or Justice are better names.  

I promised Eleven and Three that if I am chosen they will be avenged.  In full.  The promise was made mentally because I cannot risk it being misused, but will be honoured. 

My vengeance will be for them, and those who have been rendered down into  components (including you, heart of my heart).  Not forgetting those who, like our anonymous mothers, were simply discarded as worthless.
   
Justice will be sweet, and Nemesis will be unexpected, swift and merciless.  You are Justice and I am Nemesis.

Word Count: 903

Full Critique Acceptable.

Sunday Selections #392

Sunday Selections was originally brought to us by Kim of Frogpondsrock, as an ongoing meme where participants could post previously unused photos languishing in their files.
 
The meme is now continued by River at Drifting through life.  The rules are so simple as to be almost non-existent.  Post some photos under the title Sunday Selections and link back to River.  Clicking on any of the photos will make them embiggen. 
 
Like River I usually run with a theme.  Come for a brief walk with me (and Jazz) into a foggy early morning.

The sun was making valiant efforts to get through but it didn't succeed for some hours.  Not only was it foggy, it was frosty.

There were some lovely splashes of colour though.

And a diligent spider.

I thoroughly enjoyed my wander through the garden.  Jazz made it clear by the speed with which he rushed inside with me that it was toooooo cold and that he had been treated badly.  Again.

As an aside.  Jazz is an elderly cat now (if you embiggen the final photo you might be able to see his one white whisker), and spends less than half an hour (if that) outside.  He does like to see what I am doing though - inside or outside.