Spelling.

The recent theme of dying birds.

Hello.

I've discovered a bit of a theme happening regarding the very emotional deaths of birds.

You can read the stories here:

• The Ramblings

• The Nest

For reasons unknown to me, I have found myself deeply saddened by these losses. 

I am not what you would call a "bird person" although now that I think about it, I had a couple of cockatiels as a kid, and I own some toucan earrings...so, maybe I am?

It might just be that I love animals.

Today I have a new story for you, consistent with the theme of dying birds...

The Sparrow in Peril 

I was having lunch with a friend. 

We were having a very serious discussion, I think we were talking about suicide. 

As he was talking, I noticed behind him there was a small brown sparrow on the ground. 

It looked like it had crash landed! I could see that it was breathing, but it was being weird. 

Now, the events that unfold from this point in the story happen within a space of approximately 7 seconds...

The First Second

I interrupted my friend and said "hey what's the deal with that bird?" 

The Second Second

Before he could turn around to see "what the deal was with that bird", from out of nowhere, a seagull appears and walks up to the sparrow. 

The Third Second

A sense of dread has formed through my body, my friend and I both mutter something like "uh there's a seagull" and then, shit got real. 

The Fourth and Fifth Seconds

The seagull snatched the sparrow up in its cruel orange beak, the sparrow hangs by its wing, and I am shouting from my chair "NO!!! YOU PUT HIM DOWN!!!"

Of course, the seagull does not speak English. 

The Sixth and Seventh Seconds

I have abandoned my friend. I am running towards the birds. The seagull is an absolute bastard and starts to run away from me with the Sparrow still in its bastard seagull beak. Of course, I am faster than a seagull. I pride myself on this. So, as I make a strange kicking gesture towards the bastard gull, the sparrow is released.

-The story returns to normal time now-

I have successfully managed to get the sparrow released from the clutches of a bleak, beaky death.

But now what? 

I am standing in the middle of a concrete area. 

Many people sit outside to eat their lunch here. 

There are cafes and corporate offices surrounding me. 

I stand there and look down at the little bird on its side, panting, talons curled up (flashback to the sparrow from The Ramblings). 

There is another man that must have seen my rather odd bird-chase scene. 

He walks over and is now staring down at the sparrow with me. 

I say to the stranger "I don't know what to do now". 

He says "It's probably going to die anyway".

Hopelessness takes over. 

Now the little thing is just suffering. 

The seagull is circling us like a fucking bastard shark. 

Just waiting for us to back off so he can eat the sparrow*.

Two ladies walk over. 

We briefly discuss the seagull being a jerk, and that "death by seagull" is no way to go. 

One of the ladies bends down, scoops up the little sparrow, and starts checking its wings. 

She says
"The wings aren't broken, so that's good"

I say "Are you a vet?"
She says "I'm a vet nurse"

...

Are you fucking kidding me?

This is like when a person has a heart attack on the street, and someone says "Somebody get a doctor!" and then one of the passers by is like "I'm a doctor!" and IT'S JUST CRAZY AND AMAZING!

I had just mentally prepared myself for the fact that I had saved this bird from being murdered, just so it could die a slow, painful death. But fuck no, there's a god damn vet nurse up in here.

After a bit of an assessment, vet nurse says "I think he's okay, just a bit dazed. Where are you sitting? Just keep an eye on him and he'll fly off in about 10 minutes"

We return to my friend at our table.

Vet Nurse tries to gently nudge the bird on to the chair but he's not having it.

I put my hand out and he climbs onto my finger.

He sits perched on my finger. 

I see a fellow staff member, she notices the bird and calls me "Snow White". 

We sit for 5-10 minutes.

We name him Herbert. I have become emotionally attached. 

But I am also eagerly hoping he will soon fly off and live a happy life.

Shortly, he does fly off...straight into a glass window. What a dingus. 

I'm not sure if he's in shock or just stupid. 

I mean how did he get on the ground in the first place? 

Remember I said it looked like he crash landed? 

It's entirely possible I just interrupted natural selection. 

I scoop him back up, walk him over to some hedges and set him down.

He disappears into the shrubbery.

I don't know what will happen to him. Maybe he'll just die. My friend said maybe Herbert will have babies and maybe his babies have babies and maybe they will save the world or something.

But because in the end everything is about me of course, I feel a little better about what happened with the nest, and my sad encounter with the small sparrow from the ramblings. Because This Sparrow now gets to kick ass and do awesome shit if it wants to, or just fly into glass windows if that's what it's into. 

Here are some drawings:

Since when did birds eat smaller birds! I mean I know owls eat smaller owls...but seagulls eating sparrows!? WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO? My theory is that humans fed seagulls chicken...and now they have the taste of bird flesh they've turned into CANNIBALISTIC MONSTERS.

The Lady and the Tram : Bleeding man.

Today on the tram something a little bit sad and pathetic happened.

A man boarded the tram and walked right up to the front to sit down. He sat at the "please make this seat available for people who really need to sit down" spot.
You know for Nanna's and pregnant ladies and stuff.

His seat is just in front of mine.
He sits facing to the right, I am facing forwards. So he is in my direct line of vision.

The man has a long beard, but not the hipster kind.
He wears a bucket hat, a flannelette shirt with holes at the elbows, and over the top of that, he wears a long yellow cotton dress. His skin is covered in dirt, and his hand has a cut that has bled, dripped down his hand a little bit, and the blood had started to dry.



The wound is open, not deep, the blood is bright red.

Mine is the next stop.

He notices the line of blood on his hand and starts to try and rub it away. He is neither gentle nor careful. He is vigorously rubbing at the open cut.

I'm 1 minute away from my stop.

I open up my bag, whip out a bandaid, lean over the seat in front of me and say
"Would you like a bandaid? For your hand?"



Like a shy child, he nods and gently takes the bandaid from my hand.

The tram is pulling into my stop.

This is the moment I realise this man has no idea how to open a bandaid.

He starts trying to bite at it, but he can't get it open (cus you know, you've gotta pull that little bit at the top and it just peels open).

So I stand up and walk over to him and ask him if he wants some help.

Again, like small child, he nods, and meekly hands the bandaid wrapper back to me.



I open it up.

Now, there are still 2 plastic bits that need to be removed... So I start to open it up, not the whole way, and I sort of say "so..this bit...goes on the ... umm"

OKAY pause for a second.
Let's get one thing straight.

EVEN PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT WEARING A DRESS OVER A FLANNY HAVE A HARD TIME PUTTING A BANDAID ON YOUR OWN HAND.
It's a two handed operation. This guy couldn't even open it.

OBVIOUSLY I am VERY concerned about making ANY CONTACT with this open wound because I'm not STUPID.

But also, I am stupid, because I couldn't just be like "Okay here you go" hand him the half opened bandaid and get off the tram never to see him again.

I stayed on the tram.

The tram pulls away from my stop. I am still with the man.

He holds his hand up, looks at the cut, then looks to me.

I Very, very carefully place the bandaid on his hand, not making any contact with the skin.

Now I've placed it on there, removed one side of the plastic, and said "Okay, now just pull this bit of plastic this way, pointing the direction he needs to pull so the bandaid will stick down.

He starts pulling the plastic upwards. Disaster. The bandaid shifts out of place and is no longer fully covering the area. I try to say again "you have to pull it this way" I'm miming the movement. He's not on board.

At this stage the bandaid is mainly just sitting on regular skin and had moved off the affected area.

Fuck it.

I pull the other side of the bandaid, and so carefully stick it down.

I tell him he needs to wash his hand so it doesn't get infected.

He just looks at me with big eyes and nods.

The tram driver holds his hi-vis evst over half of his face. The man isn't that smelly... The driver says to me "You'll get a disease".

The man looks at me with eyeballs like no one had ever even said hello to him, let alone put a bandaid on his hand.

So I got off at the next stop. Walked home. Washed my hands and wrote this blog post.

So if you don't hear from me ever again. You'll know why.

Gooblins

Baked Goods Appreciation

Zombies Love Brownies

Damaskippy

Kipy - Damascus - Kippy - Damascus - Kippy - Damascus forever and ever and ever.

Potential Regret.

DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!

It took me a moment to notice it. 

But as soon as I did, I was gone.

The Story of Bekky Strazlekky - by Ben

This was sent to me by the ever so dashing and understated-ly whimsical Ben.

When I asked Ben if I could put this on Saint Damascus, he sent me this dog. 

A Duck!

Let's do this.

2014

Let's get weird.

The Big Update Part 3: The Assignment

I made something wonderful. 
Something I've wanted to make for a while but haven't had any reason to.Which is no excuse really, you shouldn't need a reason to create something wonderful.

But I did have a reason, and so I was able to bring an idea to life, which is the most wonderful feeling a crazy creative person can have.

We were given an assignment at College 2 weeks ago. 

The task was to design a film poster/album cover/book cover/record cover of our choice, and we had to hand make the feature element of our design. 

So basically, get away from the computer and make something with your hands... remember your hands? When they're not clicking or typing they can do OTHER STUFF!!! I totally forgot that!

Now some of you may know I have a soft spot for Audrey Hepburn, and most of you probably know I that love flowers very much.

So I decided to create a film poster for My Fair Lady: The story of Eliza Doolittle, a Cockney flower girl who takes speech lessons from professor Henry Higgins, a phoneticist, so that she may pass as a well-born lady. It's pretty funny actually. 

So for the handmade element of my design,  I made a ball gown like skirt out of flowers.

And now I get to show you the lovely piece I made. 

Due to terrible self esteem, I'm rarely pleased with my own creations. 
This time though, I am so thoroughly in love with this creation.

Even though I was terribly sick when I had to make it, it felt so good to be creating something.

The shabby skeleton of the skirt.
Milk crate to hold it up, cheap hula hoops to make the skirt shape.
Then a lot of sculpting wire, guttering mesh & cable ties!

Here's a lovely photo of my sick, sick face.

Threading and tying flowers to wire.  I think that's chocolate or vegemite on my arm.

Nearly Done.

Finishing touches.

I used a mix of flowers, the main flower used was Geraldton Wax in orange, Pink, yellow and white.

The dress.

The silhouette I traced.

This is what it ended up looking like. The type package I made is a bit messy. Might fix that later.

The finished assignment

The lady that made this project not a horrendous failure.
My super amazing supportive Mum, who had a blast with me in the studio.
We both love flowers and just hanging out in general. Perfect combo.

Remember how I said I was grossly sick?

Countdown

Getting Bekky to College from Rebekah Halls on Vimeo.