Sometimes

I feel like writing. I mean really writing. You know, the type of writing that contains marvelous inventions of language such as adjectives, such as marvelous. I want to audaciously discover new personal uses for adverbs in my writing until I become concupiscently lost in the meditation of which adverb would be the most appropriate to use for the simple act of one of my characters sitting up.

But writing isn't something you 'feel' like, it's not an interest, nor a hobby. A blog, for instance, is not writing. Don't get me wrong. Some blogs are beautiful designed and worded but in the end it's all finger painting. Colourful words splashed together to give the impression of writing.

No, unfortunately, writing's a protracted engagement with characters, stories, idea's and (hopefully) a lesson. As someone who has spent hours of my days, every day, month after month, scrawling different coloured inks into different shaped notebooks and still hasn't adequately described a characters existence during the period of their life that an audience (myself) would be interested in them, I really have to start wondering.

What on earth am I doing besides marking a variety of perfectly good notebooks? This isn't to say I can't write but merely that I haven't finished a real story. Short Films are easy... I know exactly what they look and sound like in my head and don't bother writing them until the day I have someone saying the lines.

And that's the cusp of it; I can imagine exactly what it has to look like and in putting it down on paper it, well, description is so open to interpretation isn't it? And that baulks me because... Well... Hmmmm...

a) I'm a control freak; (I'm yet to meet a Writer/Director who doesn't suffer this a little.)

b) My descriptive powers inadequately describe what I'm trying to discuss; (I often describe whole stories verbally but when asked if I've written it down I just shrug a no.)

c) Writing is an insular process that requires a lot of dedication and time. Maybe it's not conducive to the process when you live a busy life; work, play, (or my favourite combination of the two) running around from one project to another.

Maybe it's a combination of all three...


Whatever, it is doesn't change that I'm really in the mood to be writing. Shame I wasted half the desire on putting this post together whinging about it.


Now this weird thing... what is it? why is it on my camera? and who took the photo? OK, in reverse; Mooncar took the photo; she snapped it at Taronga Zoo when her dad was in town recently; having now looked at the Zoo's site, it's called a Binturong.

The Binturong (Arctictis binturong), also known as the Asian Bearcat, the Palawan Bearcat, or simply the Bearcat, is a species of the family Viverridae, which includes the civets and genets.

It is neither a bear nor a cat, and the real meaning of the original name is lost, as the local language that gave it is extinct. Its natural habitat is in trees of forest canopy in rainforest of Vietnam, Malaysia, Indonesia and Palawan Island.

It is nocturnal and sleeps on branches. It eats primarily fruit, but also has been known to eat eggs, shoots, leaves and small animals, such as rodents or birds. Deforestation has greatly reduced its numbers. When cornered, the Binturong can be vicious. The Binturong can make chuckling sounds when it seems to be happy and utter a high-pitched wail if annoyed. The Binturong can live over 20 years in captivity; one is recorded to have lived almost 26 years.