we were all lucky to survive the testing depths of winter this year

She wears her hair short flicked back behind her ears.
Protruding cheek bones leap out at you as she offers one
and all kindhearted smiles. With a neck as fragile as 
a tree branch resting softly on the forest floor, i spy her
across the library populated by students hooked up
to worn out computers tired from furthering their 
education. Oh what i would give to be an anointed
member of her clan a trusted confidante in her circle
of friends, but alas I am an outcast who is far too awkward.
Lying back relaxed on her broken blue swivel chair
she hums a simple melody on a chair that can't be lowered
due to some moron breaking it. A silent muted
silence hangs in the air as the conversation with her 
friends falters. The love idols mind seems to wander alone
lonely in a far-flung desert of past romances, she turns to
her side and drapes a book of her thin shaved legs.
Intently she peers down at a biology book trying to extract 
every morsel of information from the text for a looming exam.
She has always tried hard to avoid the onslaught of 
boredom and maintain her healthy grades. 
The gift of a person of high intellect like her is their
innate ability to entertain themselves. I laugh to myself
recalling how smarter people have less course 
or desire for physical activity as they have countless 
things they would rather do than kick rugby balls 
or tone their legs. As if in a stupor I wonder who this bedazzling girl
is, do her parents love her? is she an orphan? what things
bring her joy or sorrow?

If she was a coffee she would surely be a short black 
with no milk, strong like a kick from a mule with an exuberant
amount of caffeine. Yes a petite ever satisfying short black
describes this woman perfectly, her hair darker than midnight 
dancing upon a ravens wing in mid-flight. Again the cold windswept 
morning threatens to infiltrate the walls and windows around me
they hiss and shudder like a dying mans body. 
Thankfully Winter has passed and now the flowers blossom and bloom
eager buds open up like a caterpillars cocoons revealing their
beautiful butterfly petals. On reflection we were all lucky to survive the testing depths
of winter this year, many didn't. My meandering thoughts are soon
overcome and my interests suddenly  float back to the work
at hand before my last thought vanishes I think to myself
"why do i bother wasting my time on intellectual pursuits 
when woman are so infinitely more rewarding?"
  

Unknown Pink Flowers Spring to Life Outside Elam

I grabbed a photo of this tree showing off all its swaglicious flowers in the afternoon,

it's petals were all raining down like bone-tipped arrows set on fire. Almost every tree

to me is blooming in the city at the moment and it's really affecting my spirits in

a positive way making me happier. Not to say i didn't enjoy winter I really did

except for the two weeks when I was bed-ridden with a nightmare fever.

There's really nothing like sitting, waiting around eating a chocolate covered

energy bar and slowly seeing a beautiful tree snake into the corner of your

eye with dancing colours dripping from it's branches. Sadly I forgot to

read what type of tree and flowers I was staring at, i tried to smell the flowers

but there was no kick to them. I've also recently discovered a real fondness

for knowing Latin the proper botanical names for the plants i stumble across

especially the particular sub-species of a flower that catches my fancy.

Thankfully at Auckland university all the trees and plants tend to have their

ancient names encrusted upon a little bronze or steel plaque at the base of each

trunk or painfully nailed onto it's worn body. The tree from the photo I caught was

outside Elam the premier fine arts school in NZ, probably?

I usually hang out there outside after studying my books and eat something

to stabilise my sugar levels.

Sometimes I also study the people who come and go from

the art school with their easels and paints well more like macbook pro's

and new installed photoshop 10,0 now i guess. Sometimes I find myself

subconsciously analysing what they wear as my snack bar brings

my body and brain back to full functionality. I even imagine that I can

match their clothing style with the art they make behind closed doors!

often laughing to myself about what i guess is the art medium

for whom. And Contrary to what you might think of the next wave

of New Zealand artists on the big come up some of them dress

pretty low-key almost jock like which is a bit stale haha.

Of course you still do get the odd eccentric dressed up who could

the late David Bowie to shame. I like the manic free spirits the

best who turn their wardrobe and body into a moving talking

work of art thanks to throwaways of the last decades fashionistas.

Some of the art they come up with inside the dungeon of Elam

looks pretty sweet, bad and even great. I walked past late last

week and a girl was painting a vast canvas on easel while sitting

on a stool with her headphones blaring, she looked to be having

a blast although there was no real sign of paint on the canvas yet.

Which reminds me I once had a pretty acquaintance I knew

who was studying at Elam but seemed rather sad about the

prospects of not making much money from her chosen occupation.

I thought to myself 'I don't think real artists think that way about art'

not to say that some aren't driven by commerce the musician Handel

was a great composer and business man rinsing the aristocracy of

money, but for the most part they really don't care. Which reminds of

a great quote from the contemporary recording artist Kevin Parker of

psych-rock Tame Impala who dropped this gem recently;

"if you make great art, the wealth will come" my emphasis added.