High Pressure System

The wind has been blustery all weekend. It tore the bird netting over my strawberries, brought leaves into my living room, and exfoliated my cheeks on the esplanade. The big branch from my neighbour's tree that started the weekend next to his house has now been relocated mysteriously into the shadows of a building a street over after his party Saturday night.

But the most notable effect of the powerful gusts that blasted through the streets and suburbs of Adelaide is the garbage which has been spread sometimes coming to rest on the roads and footpaths. But more often found literally spiraling in the breeze outside my window or windscreen.

This drifting, airborne garbage has felt symbolic of the state of my brain these same recent days. I'm not saying my thoughts have been rotten, stinky dross. I mean that in my head there is the byproduct that an incredibly complex system like a society or a brain is producing right now, and its struggling to be fully garbage collected. I suppose that's to be expected, with the amount of parallel processing and related objects in my mind.

A few things are good for it. Like bike rides by the river, seeing baby ducks, gigantic coffees with crushed up macadamia in the fluff - the aroma almost strong enough to override the disinfectant lathered on all the surrounding surfaces. That helps me feel like everything is going to be okay, and that those floating bits of garbage will settle down on the ground again soon, out of sight.