fafo

March 10, 2025

fuck around, and find out.

we live in botany. that is to say, we live in the area renamed Botany Bay by our colonial ancestors. we live in Jungle Botany. JBs is the gym we’ve trained at for the past 3 years. Dylan assured us that enrolling in the internship would not affect our attaining OG status within the tribe. we live in JBs, and we also live around the corner from JBs, with another of the coaches: Kyron Edwards, our dark lord Meowser. at a recent edition of the weekly coaches’ worship, we discussed the importance of play as an aspect of our training. we understand play as: imagining what is possible. in contrast to competition: striving against an opponent to achieve a goal. botany is a swamp: wet, prone to flooding, filled with mosquitos - perfect for an air port. theres a pond near to us. it’s not particularly pretty, if we’re honest: adjacent to a busy road, pipes running along one edge, bordering car dealerships. but it’s isolated enough to experience a form of serentity, gazing into the reflection of the surface of the water - the quiet calmn of an absence of other people. we come here, irregularly, to contemplate and meditate. as long as we have come, there have been two shopping trolleys partly submerged along the shore. today, filled with a sense of idle curiosity, we endeavoured to fish them out.

just to see.

we calculated our leverage: our legs are longer than our arms, and allowed us a better vantage by gripping and holding the tufts of grass along the slope of the shore. a reach, a touch, a nudge: the first trolley moved more readily to the left than any other direction. we wiggled, corralled, slowly shifted the frame, encrusted with mud and goo, until it was in reach of an arm. we grasped, pulled, adjusting until we could find a sure footing and a firm grip.

it came free.

for balance, we reached with the opposite foot, grasped with the opposite arm. this one quicker, easier: both for being close to the shore, and for the earlier experience.

we tried to estimate the weight of a trolley. light enough that we could grasp with a foot and lift with the knee, perhaps 20kg? from the perception of pulling them up a gentle incline.

we left them, handles down, bumper up - in their highest vertical orientation. will they remain tomorrow?

or will the reappear in the swamp, submerged?

fuck around…

and find out.