No.

Go on.

GUESS

Have faith:
Your work,
Your sweat,
Your tenacity and
Practice will be your force
And your creativity.
Your art shall grow with them.

Manonf

All sorts of people are back for the summer, gathering at Rainbow Beach.

Heather Blakey July 4th 2008

It’s a three day weekend

in my neck of the woods

and

to think

it’s only just begun

I clambered aboard with Gruff’s help - what a change had taken place in him, that which I had sensed underneath his stern exterior was now shining through and I do mean shining - he had a completeness to him that was not apparent before.

In my absence he had erected a makeshift screen for me to change behind - it seems he is a man who required proof of intent before affording any respect. I gratefully slipped behind the screen, peeled off the wetsuit which was as difficult, if not more so, as getting the thing on in the first place! This is not something I ever intended doing again. Whilst separating rubber from skin something fell out and dropped to the floor, I continued my struggle to peel, whatever it was could wait. Once clothed and comfortable again I stooped to pick up, well, what I thought at first look was a shell - Gruff appeared at my side:

“You are indeed honoured”.

I jumped - it was the first sound he had made and what a beautifully sonorous voice he had, such a shame he used it so sparingly. I turned the shell over and over in my hands, it had the iridescence of abolone but not the texture, this was pliable with an almost leathery quality.

“It is a scale - a gift from Triton”.

I looked to Gruff questioningly.

“A scale………..from his tail”.

I didn’t know what to say so remained quiet. I was hoping that once on the island I would have the time and space to meditate upon the gifts I had been given. For the moment though I had no ideas let alone answers - I was, after all, at the beginning of my journey.

Gruff set to and made for the island. I, for once in my life, was feeling relaxed and at peace, content to allow what was to be, be and not try to control or second guess events.

I put the scale in my bag. In doing so my hand fell upon the stone which the vendor women had given me. A voice in my head told me this was meant for Gruff, unsure why this was so I decided to go with my instinct and removed it from my bag.

It took no time at all to reach the island.

“I will be leaving you here”, that delicious voice again.

I felt a true pang of sadness on hearing this - I was quite sure this was an extraordinary man and I would have liked to get to know him better. With such mixed emotions, excitement and curiosity for the oncoming venture, disappointment at leaving this man behind, I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. With the stone in my hand I approached Gruff. He clasped my hand in his conveying such warmth and such gentle strength I almost cried. There was that look again - all the people I had met so far had this way of looking right into me, or so it seemed, but with no discomfort on my part, in fact if felt perfectly natural. I held out my other hand to him, the stone laying in the palm, offering it to him. He looked at the stone and then up to my eyes again - I thought I saw tears in his eyes now - a huge smile spread across his face as he took the stone and held it firstly to his chest and then to his brow. I felt an inkling of understanding pass through me……..connection!

Time to go. I looked at him, smiled and stepped out of his boat into the shallow waters. I stopped once to look over my shoulder and wave to him then continued to walk slowly up to the empty beach.

Just down here at the beach..all by myself…singing songs and stuff

::: ( anita sings mischievously to herself ) I’m all alone lalala at this blog lalala guess what I’m gonna do lalalalala I’m gonna have fun lalalalaso  l’ll start with this song lalalaaaahhhhhh and you can dance along lalalalala:::

I love this true story I love this kid: enjoy.

 By David Segal Washington Post Staff Writer

The moment would not endure as a video snippet, posted on Web sites and viewed more than 500,000 times, nor would it inspire T-shirts, or parodies or remixes or mash-ups. It would not lead a company in, say, England to track down the lad and offer him — or rather, his parents — cash to turn his baffling three-word apercu into a cellphone ring tone. He would not hear from the Jimmy Kimmel show. A handful of strangers would not call hoping to send him pets.

Jonathon Ware, 10, of Milwaukie, Ore., in his now-famous interview on KGW-TV.

But thanks to the Internet, Jonathon Ware is a 10-year-old living in the golden age of inanity, when the most random of utterances is celebrated and memorialized. And so anyone can savor Ware’s rendezvous with YouTube destiny, a 17-second masterpiece of comic triviality that has turned him into that most peculiar of media creatures: the viral-video celebrity.

Let’s take it from the top. It’s May 31. Ware and his sisters are visiting the Rose Festival in Portland, Ore. Jonathon has just left a face-paint booth, where he has emerged looking like Bart Simpson remade as a flesh-eater from “Dawn of the Dead.” A KGW correspondent is on hand for one of those “Look what’s happening downtown!” stories that are a staple of local news. She stops Jonathon and asks him to stand still for a quick, live interview.

When the camera cuts to the kid he is staring blankly at the lens, delivering what one online commentator described as “a 1,000-yard stare,” which itself is kind of hysterical because, you know, he’s got his zombie on.

“Back here live at the Waterfront Village with my friend the zombie, Jonathon,” says correspondent Nancy Francis. “You’re looking good, Jonathon. Jonathon just got an awesome face paint job. What do you think?”

Jonathon does not need to mull this one for long. Jonathon turns to the reporter and says, in a voice that is both flat and emphatic:

“I like turtles.”

And that’s it. Well, that’s not entirely it. Francis appears momentarily stunned. “All right!” she says. “You’re great . . . zombie,” she says, her grammar briefly unglued, patting Jonathon on the back as she stands up. After a quarter-second of blankness, during which she seems to be thinking, “What did he just say?” she gamely returns to her on-air persona. “Good times here at the Waterfront Village, open for the next eleven days . . .”

Fade to black.

The first thing that should be said about this video is that it separates dabblers in the inane from serious connoisseurs. There are people who will watch and decide, “This isn’t even a little amusing,” and those who will weep with laughter on the first, second, third and 20th viewings. There are, apparently, plenty of the latter. Soon after the clip aired, someone posted it online, and “Turtle Boy” quickly assumed his place in the pantheon of unwitting digital heroes, alongside Dude Who Juggles to the Beatles, next to Boom Goes the Dynamite Guy, and most recently, Vapid Anchor Babe Interviewing Holly Hunter. Unlike these people, though, Jonathon wasn’t demonstrating a talent (or a lack of talent), nor had he sought out his moment of fame (or infamy). He was just a youngster colliding with a desperate reporter.

Which makes the fallout from his appearance seem like the purest possible form of inanity — meaninglessness squared. One fan spliced Jonathon into the guest spot of a recent and hostile interview conducted by Bill O’Reilly on “The O’Reilly Factor.” (An increasingly irate O’Reilly appears to grill Jonathon about Iran and he bats away each question with “I like turtles.”) Someone else did a Turtle Boy version of “The Shining,” wherein the word “SELTRUT” is painted on a door, instead of “REDRUM.” This list could go on and on.

Within a few weeks, the fuss was loud enough for KGW to return to the air with the clip, this time pleading with Turtle Boy, or his friends or family, to get in touch with the station. The Wares missed that broadcast, but a friend of Jonathon’s sister caught it and sent a message via MySpace.

“She basically wrote to say, ‘Do you know your brother is famous on the Internet?’ ” recalls Kim Ware, who is 16. “We were stunned.”

The Wares called the station, which dispatched a reporter the next day. In the meantime, a ring-tone seller in the United Kingdom got in touch, as did Jimmy Kimmel’s people, as did a nature show doing a segment about turtles. Someone started selling “I like turtles” T-shirts with Jonathon’s face on them. Jonathon doesn’t have an agent yet, but his parents are thinking about it.

“It sort of caught us by surprise,” says Tina Ware. “Every day when I come home, there’s a message from someone else on our answering machine. I just heard from a radio station in Grand Rapids.”

Then she summoned Jonathon to the phone. At first, it sounded like he wasn’t interested in conversing. It turned out that he was pretty busy.

“I’m scooping my dog’s poop,” he said.

Ah ha. He then explained that he’d been caught off guard by the reporter’s question that day at the fair, and since he’d just seen an exhibit at the fair about turtles, the critters were on his mind. The notoriety has been fun, he went on, especially getting recognized, which happens a lot, considering that he was wearing face paint during that interview. A bunch of kids he didn’t know surrounded him during a trip to the mall over the weekend.

“They were like, ‘I like turtles, too!’ “

Jonathon sounds game for whatever comes next, but he does have a goal: He wants to be on “Ellen.” He’s a huge fan of “Ellen.”

“I just e-mailed her,” he said. “She’s rad. She’s cool.”

So, opportunity knocks, Ms. DeGeneres. Invite Jonathon to the show, paint him up as a zombie and give him a three-word script: “I like Ellen.”

It’ll ruin Oprah’s whole day.

As I was about to leave the boat memories surfaced of being about eleven years old and going often to our local outdoor swimming pool. I used to love to climb to the top diving board - walk out to the very edge and launch myself - jumping not diving - hitting the water at goodness knows what speed, only to surface, climb out and repeat the procedure over and over again. No fear whatever!

Encouraged by the smile those memories brought me I took a leap from the boat entering the water with a thundering crash, no slow, elegant descent for this child/woman - oh no!

I flailed around at first, trying to acclimatise myself, my breathing somewhat staccato - aqualungs take a bit of getting used to. The waters enveloped me and I began to be calmed by them, a rather pleasant sensation creeping thoughout my body as if coming back to life. I floated, splashed a little, playing in the water, allowing myself to totally enjoy the experience.

Coming out of my self- absorbtion I began to see all the glorious colours of the life around me, the various fish, the corals, things I had no name for - so beautiful. I swam gently on taking in the sights surrounding me and counting my blessings, wondering how many folk were given the opportunity of an experience such as this.

What had been a flatish surface below me began to change as I swam on, undulating and become very rocky, more and more so giving out onto an opening to further depths. My intuition told me I was to follow the rocks, using them to feel my way down. The water became much cooler and murky, the fish and other creatures were still present but not quite as visible. A moment of fear struck me, I clung to the rocks. Something was at my hand, winding itself around my wrist and pulling - what on earth!!! I tried to stop it, tugging away, but it was too strong and this environment so alien to me, I had no purchase so as this thing pulled I went with it. Down we went, deeper and deeper. I started to worry about air - did I have enough? Our direction changed, we were moving forward, I could see ahead what appeared to be an opening, a much darker chunk of dark! We entered. Twisting and turning it seemed to be a tunnel and although I was scared I was also aware of enjoying the sensation of floating along, feeling like a fish, my body rhythmically bending and flowing through the water by the pull of this creature.

We rounded a corner and the tunnel opened out into a much lighter area. I could now see that it was some kind of eel which had hold of my wrist. It dragged me forwards through a mini-forest of seaweed-type growth - again that delicious flowing/floating sensation. We cleared the dense growth coming into a clearing and there, ahead of me, was - well - a creature. This creature:

I assumed he was the Triton of whom Gruff had spoken. I must admit I was more than a little in awe at the sight of him. He signalled me to come closer. I felt like Little Red Riding Hood approaching the wolf - “what big teeth you have”; “what RED (?) eyes you have” - I was terrified, certain this was it, my last day.

As I approached he held out his hands to me. I wasn’t sure what he wanted but raised mine to meet his. He took my hands in his and looked into me as if reading me. My fear dissipated. I actually felt safe. He drew me closer……closer still. He hugged me!!

“You are ready”. These words I heard distinctly yet he had not spoken.

“You are ready, go now on to Mudjimba, you have all that you need”.

He released me, whilst still looking at me with such intensity he seemed to just dissolve into the waters. He was gone.

The eel returned, circling me then veering off towards the surface. I guessed I was to follow. I swam up and up, the eel leaving once the sunlight could be seen through the waters.

I surfaced, right beside the boat - how odd, and there was Gruff waiting for me, hand outstretched to help me aboard - with a big smile on his face!

Jill

http://wyrdspirit.wordpress.com

Crow - Heather Blakey May 2008

As I sat on the charred log black wings swept across in front of me and crow descended. As we sat, side by side, she told me the the story of Roses Gully and how, long ago, an emu, named Tchingal chased her across the land from the Mallee. Crow hid but the enraged Tchingal struck at the mountain with her foot, splitting it in two and forming Roses Gap.

Crow explained that the road I was on follows the foot of sandstone ramparts which form the northern escarpment of the Mt Difficult range, that this was the route the immigrant Chinese used to reach the Victorian Gold fields. She told me how she had seen the Chinese walk the road after disembarking at Robe in South Australia, watched as the troopers set up camp to intercept them.

She went on to share that there was once a huge inland sea here, told me how this region became a garden for the indigenous people who came long after the old Lemurians had been swallowed by the cataclysmic events.

I looked at the escarpment and pondered on the difficulties I had encountered, sensed that within this escarpment I would find answers and a sense of direction.

Crow promised to stay with me as I travelled and to act as a guide.