Quiet. Too quiet.

A long week away in which Britain shows it does not need a rope that long to hang itself; Star Trek comes to Netflix; kids on holiday.

A week is a long time in politics. It’s even longer in life. Especially if you are caught in a temporal flux and everything seems to slow down.

Ah Star Trek, you have returned to my life. Come crawling back like I knew you would. Really though, I know that it is I that needed you. Kirk’s captain playing off between logic and emotion, snogging his way through the Galaxy. Picard’s measured command, matched by a powerful ensemble of supporting crew. Sisko’s impassioned, quasi religious battle leader. Janeway’s fearsome resolve. Sam Beckett…maybe going a leap too far.

I realise it’s utter nonsense. Scary to think that more time has passed between Next Gen and now, than the original series and Next Gen.

Only watched a few episodes of Next Gen so far, but fuck me the 1980’s. Crusher’s ‘I haven’t felt the touch of a husband, of a man, in so long’. Bulkshit. There’s no way Gates Mcfadden wasn’t getting hooked up at some point, even with the annoying son. And, you know, feminism.

Also, putting a child in charge of a warship. An old trope I know, but Jesus what were they thinking? 

So, speaking of that I could wax lyrical about Brexit and all that shit, but I am in a good mood and don’t want to ruin it with yet another elongated rant about it. Eventually, I will come to a philosophical perspective and move on. The centre cannot hold. 

It’s school holidays. No kids. Quiet. I have ready and full access to seating. Take the positives.

I was away for a week, enjoying a camping road trip up to Kalbarri and Jurien Bay. Relaxing and generally peaceful. I feel re-energised. I love country. The openness and freedom is inspiring. It becomes a journey I never want to end. 

Still waiting for the final results for the Aussie election. Counting resumes on Tuesday. 

In Freo. Time to go.


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