It was an enlightening experience listening to the feedback of the vocal reader base of Bradism.com. After analysing the wants and dislikes of those who submitted suggestions, it became clear that people wanted more photos and shared no love for me writing about Dale.
And I listened.
So here's a Lego Phocumentary I made today.
To Dale, the water cooler wasn't just plastic and polystyrene and bonded hydrogen and oxygen. When Dale visited the water cooler he wasn't just filling his cup with liquid, he was running a tap of time wasting; drinking down procrastination. For some in the office water cooler conversation was feared as a momentum killer. Dale, however, sought out water cooler dyads like they were a healing balm for a particularly veracious skin rash, something cool and purifying to take away the warm, itchy dullness that was his career.
...
Just shitting you.
After a long winter the sun - which has been flirting with me for weeks now - finally made clear its intentions to bend me over against a railing and violate me with months of sunshine. I was obviously pleased. Because on the first day of Spring this is what happens: flowers bloom, critters come from everywhere – most fornicate in front of you - and it becomes time to reap fruits and vegables.
Wrong. On the first weekend of Spring in 2010 Adelaide received a month's worth of rain, the wind blew my fence down and as I tried to keep my car on the road during the storms on the drive back from Middleton towards Mt Compass, Spring laughed heartily at my optimism and threw a gigantic tree across the road. Obviously, as I slammed on the brakes, my first thought was 'Gee, I should recreate this moment in Lego.'
Since then though, Spring has been hitting its straps. Which does not leave much to dictate via Lego, really. So, as today is the two year anniversary of me waking up with the bones in my arms separated, and as Lego lends itself so nicely to exploring bio-mechanical follies, I'll continue the trend of the last Lego phocos.
My wrist is still a source of much discontent, but that's weakening as it gains strength. Sometimes, like when I'm at the gym and lifting more weight than half the population ever would with their left hands, I feel like I'm making progress. When I'm not paying attention though, I regularly find that my body treats my whole left arm like it's no longer attached, and if I don't consciously redirect action through that limb it might as well be room decor.
That's how Spring works, I guess. The joy of new life plus the risk of things fucking you. Hopefully the sun will now only shine, but I'll knock on wood for luck like I almost did last weekend.