I had another dream about The Dirty Three last night. This is ponderous because I know almost nothing about them. I don’t know their songs and they don’t have words so it’s not as if I can sing along to them.
I was at some hippy’s place in the country. I seemed to know them. Part of their house was being used for sound recordings. I was sitting with a hippy in another room, listening. Warren Ellis, the violin player (is that right? is that right??? How do I know that?) and the guitar player came in.
There was a big armful of wet grass, y’know – grass, on a cabinet and Ellis saw it and said something like Gimme some of that – and took most of it. There was gum leaves mixed with it, as if it’d just been ripped out of the bush. The hippy was pretty upset but there seemed to be nothing he could do. He pulled was what left of the bundle to his chest and said, I think, ‘I feel like I’ve been raped’. Later on I told him that I seemed to remember that that Ellis guy was a bit of an arsehole.
It snowed well and good last night and this morning and twice already the old lady next door has been out there sweeping the path. She’s 68y.o. Maybe it’s that I’m new to this whole snow thing, but I don’t see the point in sweeping it away from a certain amount of area because there will always be somewhere that’s not swept, and more likely than not, that is where I will have to walk.