I was driving around Romford for no good reason today, but it gave me time enjoy the sky, which was faintly awesome, dusty yellow at the edges that turned into pastel pale blue as the sky got higher.
It reminded me of when I was a short kid, spending time at the houses of my parent's friends. For ages, me and my brother where the only kids in my parent's circle, so we had no other playmates, and we were intensely adversarial, even at that age, so there was not a lot else to for me to do but stare at the sky and imagine things.
I used to be fascinated by planes, the big commercial airliners flying in and out of stansted and heathrow and gatwick. High enough up to catch the sun and glint silver, but low enough for some to have discernable shapes.
High up and silver and slow, they looked inherently strange, clearly something other and seperate from my small little universe. Lying on my back in the shade of a tree, I'd watch them twine between the stretched crackle shaped twigs and branches and then disappear behind the pale green leaves.
The Tree was OLD and KNOWN - The Plane was NEW and STRANGE. I liked seeing them so close together.
I imagined a huge old tree, vast beyond belief. Miles thick at the base, roots fat as towns pushing into the earth, cracking the bed rock and continental shelf, charring and blackening as they pushed down to the hot iron core of the planet to draw up sustenance.
Leaves as small as stamps and as large as sails. Clouds forming in the canopy, mist drifting through the high branches that scrapped the atmosphere. The thick main branches stripped of off-shoots and bark as tough as concrete, planed and flatten to form runways, hangers bored out of the titanic mass of the trunk.
Ground crew darting along the branches like ants, waving in jumbo jets flashing silver as they catch the sun, big fat bellied flying fish far from home, touching down with a harsh squeal of fat rubber wheels on timber, sap like bitumen weeping from scuff marks on the runway.
Today though I've been thinking about genetically altered oak trees, subtly adapted and taking up new minerals through it's roots, growing protein and sillicon circuitry alongside the lignin and the cellulose. Trees acting as Wi-Fi hubs, kids tapping at their palmtops in the shade of the oak trees.
The leaf conopy acting as a big organic satelite dish/ transceiver, power drawn from the sugar fuelled batteries inplanted into the tree by tree surgeons.
Apart from that, I've been pretty bored recently, not got much to do except sit around and wait until my eyes get lasered. I've got loads of books to work through though. YAY ME.
It reminded me of when I was a short kid, spending time at the houses of my parent's friends. For ages, me and my brother where the only kids in my parent's circle, so we had no other playmates, and we were intensely adversarial, even at that age, so there was not a lot else to for me to do but stare at the sky and imagine things.
I used to be fascinated by planes, the big commercial airliners flying in and out of stansted and heathrow and gatwick. High enough up to catch the sun and glint silver, but low enough for some to have discernable shapes.
High up and silver and slow, they looked inherently strange, clearly something other and seperate from my small little universe. Lying on my back in the shade of a tree, I'd watch them twine between the stretched crackle shaped twigs and branches and then disappear behind the pale green leaves.
The Tree was OLD and KNOWN - The Plane was NEW and STRANGE. I liked seeing them so close together.
I imagined a huge old tree, vast beyond belief. Miles thick at the base, roots fat as towns pushing into the earth, cracking the bed rock and continental shelf, charring and blackening as they pushed down to the hot iron core of the planet to draw up sustenance.
Leaves as small as stamps and as large as sails. Clouds forming in the canopy, mist drifting through the high branches that scrapped the atmosphere. The thick main branches stripped of off-shoots and bark as tough as concrete, planed and flatten to form runways, hangers bored out of the titanic mass of the trunk.
Ground crew darting along the branches like ants, waving in jumbo jets flashing silver as they catch the sun, big fat bellied flying fish far from home, touching down with a harsh squeal of fat rubber wheels on timber, sap like bitumen weeping from scuff marks on the runway.
Today though I've been thinking about genetically altered oak trees, subtly adapted and taking up new minerals through it's roots, growing protein and sillicon circuitry alongside the lignin and the cellulose. Trees acting as Wi-Fi hubs, kids tapping at their palmtops in the shade of the oak trees.
The leaf conopy acting as a big organic satelite dish/ transceiver, power drawn from the sugar fuelled batteries inplanted into the tree by tree surgeons.
Apart from that, I've been pretty bored recently, not got much to do except sit around and wait until my eyes get lasered. I've got loads of books to work through though. YAY ME.
and i pwomise from the bottom of my heart to not be weird