thoughts in the quiet of the morning

Some mornings, like this morning I think that I should trash some of my older posts, clean up the site a little, for I don't image any one's going to be interested in random musings I had two years ago; and then I think, well maybe I can use past thoughts and contrast them against more recent ones, a way of gauging the way I feel about life, but even that notion is a little ridiculous since one has so many ideas and only a tiny amount of them ever get posted anyway. I am prone to wondering why, given we have a reasonable amount of readers we rarely get comments. Sure, some people email me to say they've enjoyed what I've written, but I still can't understand why they don't say something. Is it lack of time, are they shy, who knows? But, moving on from that, I've undertaken my usual scan of the latest news and have nothing much to say about it other than I remember seeing Lionel Rose become the Lightweight Champion of the World and am dismayed that he is yet another Indigenous person to die too early because of alcohol related illness. I've been awake since 4.55 am (don't worry, I had seven hours sleep, went to bed early after watching Deadwood). It's 6.45 am as I write this. I don't know where the time has gone since I got up - two pieces of toast and cups of tea and coffee later and it's still reasonably dark outside, only 10 degrees and the sun has yet to break through the gray clouds. The Magpies won't arrive for at least another 45 minutes and when they do there will be much crying for food. In a couple of hours I'll be at Melbourne Uni tutoring my student and then I'll be meeting a friend who wants to see my exhibition before I take it down tomorrow. A full day, but an interesting one. Had a short conversation with my son last night who thinks that artists and musicians don't like sport, which is interesting because most of the artists I've met in my life have been football supporters. Maybe it's a high art versus low art thing. Strange the things entering my mind in the quiet of the morning and the only sound here, apart from my fingertips as they hits the keys is the soft, persistent whir of my gas heater fan. 7.02 am - light has broken and the sky is pale. Every now and then a distant bird song. I've made my bed and placed the few dishes left in the sink from this mornings breakfast into hot water. If I sound reflective it's because I am. I think always in the silence of other times, but the images are fleeting, they move in and out of my mind like clouds across the sky. Sometimes just before I wake I perceive in that dark void, slight bursts of color, little explosions of light, like my brain is being activated and of course it is. An interesting phenomenon and I think about whether everyone experiences a return to conscious arousal in a similar way. The other morning I awoke to the sound of a phone ringing, which is really interesting because every night I turn my phone to silent and the ringing sound I heard was obviously generated solely by my body, which woke me up. Can these mind noises be explained? I might have to research that another time.