Wednesday morning, 4.30-6.30am

Mesjid's soundsystem penetrates the house, the call to prayer public, communal, and, where I live, loud. To Western ears, possibly intrusive. After being awakened by our neighbuorly soundsystem, I thought I'd soak it in, listening to a wave of religious sound, a quadraphonic mash-up. There are numerous mesjids in Salatiga, each with their own stereo. The one in the centre of town, I assume, starts things off, and then other mesjids join in. Nearby, the sound is invasive; if it happened in Watson at that hour, police would be called! Once that sound finishes, its message of "God is Great" fading, I can hear the same message, but from soundsystems located elsewhere, further away, and on all sides.

Call to prayer over, over sounds seep in: roosters, the fart'n'blart of motorbikes, and, coming from the main road, the churn of traffic, much like the muffled din we in Watson experience during Summernats. By 6am, the house is up and about - Aaron starts school at 7am. Traffic has intensified.

At this point, an hour before I usually get up, I need a rest from the sounds. Fumbling for the iPod, I select something lo-fi, introverted, quiet, something lovely and spare, where I can hear the hiss of tape, the intake of breath, the squeak of a chair, the grain in the voice: Lost Wisdom by Mount Eerie with Julie Doiron and Fred Squire.

"You Swan, Go On" - transcribed

as good as I could possibly imagine my life getting
it did, after I met you.
the way you reached inside my chest & pulled out things
& sent them on in breath's blue.
as good as it goes with the layers peeling off
& though I writhed, it did not upset you
with your hand down my throat
you held onto my heart & pumped the blood through.
& then it's time to go, you said
it's time to go out, you little grey goose
get out from under my wings, you said
go you swan out & go you're turned loose.
oh, so it's over, oh, so we die
oh, so your hand on my heart pumping blood went limp
& oh, i fly, oh swan inside.

Now my day can begin.