could we do it right?

"life is not a dream. beware. and beware. and beware." and so many think because then happened, now isn't. but didn't i mention the ongoing "wow" is happening right now? we are all co-authors of this dancing exuberance where even our inabilities are having a roast. we are the authors of ourselves, co-authoring a gigantic dostoevsky novel, starring clowns. this entire thing we're involved with called the world, is an opportunity to exhibit how exciting alienation can be. life is a matter of a miracle that is collected over time by moments, flabbergasted to be in each other's presence. the world is an exam to see if we can rise into direct experience. our eyesight is here as a test to see if we can see beyond it. matter is here as a test for our curiosity. doubt is here as an exam for our vitality. thomas mann wrote that he would rather participate in life than write 100 stories. giacometti was once run down by a car, and he recalled falling into a lucid faint, a sudden exhilaration, as he realized that at last something was happening to him. an assumption develops that you cannot understand life and live life simultaneously. i do not agree entirely. which is to say i do not exactly disagree. i would say that life understood is life lived. but the paradoxes bug me, and i can learn to love and make love to the paradoxes that bug me. and on really romantic evenings of self, i go salsa dancing with my confusion. before you drift off, don't forget. which is to say, remember. because remembering is so much more a psychotic activity than forgetting. in that same poem it said that the iguana will bite those who do not dream. and as one realizes that one is a dream figure in another person's dream, that is self awareness.


things are changing. with the new year just around the corner anticipation and excitment is building. ive been on a rollercoaster ride the last few months, not knowing exactly where it is i would end up. but i am actively making changes to better my outlook. i had a nice time with a nice boy and that is done now. that is what i choose to remember. a lesson well learnt. hey death, you aint got me yet..

play russian roulette as we kiss

guts out everywhere. i haven't been this sick in so long, but i have a roof, a bed and a lot of time to think. drifting again, i must write the stories from the ends of the earth, stories from the depths of my heart. im looking forward to christmas, ice cream, beach hats and long days with just laughter and music. and i am thankful for all of this, even though it hurts so much i have lived extraordinary things these past years. i must find new ways to feel again, find the courage i had when i lived in the woods, find ways to write a story everyday, to communicate without words. i must find the way to see my hands in my dreams. to add colours to every experience, every moment. to stop being so stubborn over the smallest things.. we're way past inappropriate.

tomorrow i am sending away my application to the australian red cross to volunteer in the yconnect? programs. gym on thursday with karli. life is picking up. a decision needs to be made soon - will i have the guts? i can't be your saving grace.

the world doesn't stop just because i do.

poisoned

i need somewhere for the quixotic and the senseless and the raw and the hushed things to go.

i can't seem to properly grow into what i am supposed to be. all my parts are so counter to one another. so unalike and so horribly mashed into the same shifting body that i couldn't tell you which face i was wearing at what time. when god put me together he left something out.

the truth hurts more than lies.

stolen wings and evil ways

words fall out in hurried piles. they don't have coherency, these days. my body aches and creaks with every painful movement. i'm sure it's just a physical reaction to mental pain. everyone is kicking goals, and i sit at home and stare at the ceiling for hours on end.

this vapid life has lost its bright lustre. ill never be able to save myself from myself.

anxiety

i was overwhelmed so i started to write, the dead weight of memory, page after page after page until some of the grief was expelled from my heart. i was still overwhelmed so i sang in the shower, song after song after song until some more of the grief was expelled from my heart. and still i went to sleep with a heavy heart. for me change, passing from one thing to another, is a partial death. a part of us dies. the sadness about its dying or passing away cannot but touch my heart. i do what i do because i don't know how to be someone else.

he said he loved me, the magic word. it was supposed to make everything light up and be fixed. ill never trust that word again. i let whatever was in me that still needed you, need.

maybe we carried each other? maybe even forgiveness is without resolution.

destiny

i love smooth words, like gold-enamelled fish
which circle slowly with a silken swish,
and tender ones, like downy-feathered birds:
words shy and dappled, deep-eyed deer in herds,
come to my hand, and playful if I wish,
or purring softly at a silver dish,
blue persian kittens fed on cream and curds.

i love bright words, words up and singing early;
words that are luminous in the dark, and sing;
warm lazy words, white cattle under trees;
i love words opalescent, cool, and pearly,
like midsummer moths, and honied words like bees,
gilded and sticky, with a little sting.

i am blessed, i need to learn to accept and embrace it.

hope, like feathers and stones and sea glass. hope, like the little things we pick up and drop into our pockets. hope, because although it seems like the pain of it, the weight of it, will never leave completely, it will. hope, because the only way to know this is to live this and i will!
ps. this summer i want to learn how to surf.

through the looking glass

alice - "would you tell me please, which way i ought to go from here?"
cat - "that depends a good deal on where you want to get to?"
alice - "i don't much care where"
cat - "then it doesn't matter which way you go"
alice - "so as long as i get SOMEWHERE"
cat - "oh you're sure to do that, if only you walk long enough"

i do not want to get out of bed in the morning. sometimes when i am doing things i feel as though my heart is deliberately calling out to me. almost like a little voice. not my conscience but my heart, whispering, this is where you belong. i haven't had this in a while now. i feel like my soul is intrinsically tied to the earth, that my roots are buried deep within the soil & my soul exists outside of me, all around me in the wind. i am completely and utterly alone. i want to fall asleep, and wake up with our bodies entwined.

dying notes

im afraid to think - how many years will i spend trying to remember?

my faith has been restored in humanity. if only temporary, i want to remember. its in the blood.

fall back down

we run the streets on the last of our days when the sun has long faded into storybook forever and the pages of hours closed with must. but we continue, break thought he appendixes and index and glossary and the hard cover stretches in blue space before us--the final frontier!--just to stick our tongue out at god.

fate

i want to burn my initials into the sun. i want to read poetry from the middle of a burning building standing in the fast lane of the freeway falling from the top of the eiffel tower. i want to do something that matters. we could shape the world -- end the story of my life with the perfect kiss on the lips.

that year. those eyes. that date.

nothing mattered but us -- on a night like tonight, when the world won't stop wrestling with my heart as if it were an over-cooked pork chop tucked between the jaws of a starved giant schnauzer, i stare at pictures from the 50's and 60's and i swoon.. i swoon. somehow it lifts what's left of my heart, stirring the grease and the gristle into a whirlpool of randy nostalgia reminding me that i am almost, almost alive.

one day ill look back and laugh. i hate post-hormones. silly duffer.

apples

take one away from one and suddenly there's not much left. the absence of one comes on like first frost: the weakest plants die first, then others, then others, until the world itself bears a whitish ripple from the point of departure outward. i feel for you when you get lost. there are dogs trained to find you under packed snow or in case of disaster. the world isn't ending. the world hasn't begun to end. its least forgivable trait is persistence, the way what you lose forever leaves a hole that can never be refilled. the blindness comes with time or with snow. everything goes white. like how a star dies, beautiful and tragic. i'd like to be lost like that, not just vanished but leaving no trace but your thought of me. your cold lack of me.

i am so happy. hurry up summer, hurry up!

you were a little sparrow.

mother says that it's a beautiful day outside so we run around tying back drapes and opening windows because we want to play out in the sunshine too but keep the bugs and nettles and wild animals safely away. so we dig for earthworms in the family room floor, go creekstomping in the kitchen sink, overturning plates and heavy crusted pots to look for crayfish and minnows. but we find none and turn to the hallway to ride our tricycles in perpetual circuits, making faces to each other when we pass going other ways. my brother dares me to ride down dead man's hill and i almost do, until mother returns and shouts to get off the stairs before i hurt myself.

i feel like i've been moving at the speed of light. i am in a good place right now.

make me beautiful

he came to me amongst the alcoholic whispers of the night, when lashes flutter with thoughts unbridled. took my hand and lead me down a winding path to a dark garden. he turned to me delicately placing one soft kiss upon my lips. the look cast into my eyes was tender and though no words were spoken the moment seemed bittersweet and spoke to me of goodbyes -- no more.

as the inexorable passage of time continues its course I realize that I have less and less to say or more correctly less of what I can say. i've always wanted to embrace a certain mystery. i often think that I would happily give up my humanity in exchange for the secrets of the universe. maybe I still would, I don't know. there is a lot of uncertainty hovering about and rather than making me sad, it just makes me cold inside. the best word would be obdurate I think. well, I like it so ill use it. it also strikes me that happiness is something as contrived and redolent with artifice as the satan bunny or jesus claus. my vocabulary is sodomizing me.

"im not the kind of guy that enjoys one-night stands. it leaves me feeling very empty and cynical. its not even fun sexually. i need to feel something for the women and entertain the vain hope that it may lead to a relationship" - ben affleck

i want to be in love.

harmony - some people are just better at pretending

"this will be the year without fear, the year of finishing what i've begun.

i've always felt ill-prepared in everything i've done: friendships, school, jobs, relationships, projects, self-improvement, understanding the world around me. as a girl I made the unfortunate mistake of believing adults when they told me I was smart, and I glided by on that momentum for far too long, bewildered when it somehow failed me. i've ran from challenges that frightened me. i've weaseled my way out of obstacles i should have met head-on. i've deluded myself into believing what was convenient. i've been speechless around people I should have listened to. i've gotten lost in the moment, only to somehow believe that it was the bigger picture.

i'm sorry. that doesn't even begin to make it right. but i'm sorry.

i started last year, but this year it's official. after months of searching i've located my spine, and my clear vision of what I want, who I want to be, and how to get there. i realize so many past misdeeds are a cause long lost and I can't even try to atone for them, so I will leave them where they are, but I won't let them happen again either."


i sit here realizing that this year has been my year. certain fuckups are no reflection on the person ive become. i am not a bad person. i am living. my life is good.

"Good judgement comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgement."

help.

its curious how i only feel compelled to update whilst i am in the throes of angst and the like. whether my creativity or communication is reduced by the proportionate happiness in my life? i am sure there is a mathematic equation that could be done but i have never been one for maths, too much sterility for my liking.

almost everyday for years now i have felt an oppressive vice like grip of control influencing the way i am supposed to behave and act. maybe for all my life but i guess you don't quite notice it 'til later. its this guiding force telling you what is apparently right, what my values are supposed to be, who i am or destined to be. i often take stock of my surrounds and just laugh at the absurdity of what we take as normal. i can't really specify what it is, its more a sense or a concept that things just aren't right. all these laws, rules, regulations, religions, categories all just pushing and pushing to create a representation of what is a good and just person. it feels like all this attention to detail and all the answers for the sense of rightness has buried what actually mattered.

so with wondering if an option out of a range of options chosen, does that constitute free will? i am not so sure anymore but at the same time i find solace in the idea of fate. i am still trying to figure out if that is contradictory or not.


have been thinking about the routines i have found myself in and i think quite potentially a person could find themselves in a routine unto death. i am supposed to be doing something aren't i?.......

le sigh.

this journal is in a constant state of flux. by flux, i mean removal of entries. i guess that's what makes it most appealing vs. the paper journal. i'll keep starting over 'til my outcries align with my insides. tell me that you understand what i mean when i say that i don't want to write my age.

i've been saying for a while now that there's nothing left for me here. by here, i mean melbourne. post-vacation bliss aside, i've got to breathe deep and be patient and do everything i can to make sure these next few months or so are productive. getting my dream job isn't a given and neither is moving country-- none of it is going to be, well, a holiday. but i can just imagine those sidewalk cafes in the summer. and having a bicycle. and rose gardens all in bloom. and spending countless hours at bookstores, where you actually need a map to get around. and riding the buses, too, because they paste poetry snippets on the walls. and can't you see now, why i belong there?

magister amoris

"Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim"
(Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you.)
-Ovid

smaller things:
hello life.
goodbye ampersands.
spit it out as it comes, even if its just a sentence. or a fragment. or a word.

la danse dans le vent

still tangled hair all of the time and i can never really catch up on sleep or spend money slowly enough to save any. i'm completely brimming over with bliss right now, so much so that i can't write a thing-- but that's more than alright for now.

all cracked up on the highway.

if everything seems so much clearer in hindsight, is it possible to reach that understanding prior to having to suffer the misfortunes of a poor judgment?

i'd be lying if i said i wasn't content, but there's always this gnawing feeling that i have to work to overlook my doubts. i wish somebody could effectively convince me that relationships aren't bullshit at this age. everybody lies to each other, everybody's looking around to see what else there is, everybody's biding time-- maybe it's just a matter of whether you choose to care or notice? am i too cynical? is my life too cyclical?

i'm due for an acid trip, if only to turn my brain on its side for a while. i'll come find the words, grab onto them by the fistful.

wistful progression

the oft-repeated line in my life is "you don't know what you want", spoken by virtually anyone who has been made witness to my musings and motions for an extended (though a day would probably suffice) period of time. i do know what i want, but it keeps changing. i don't see why i ought to keep still when hardly anything presents itself as obvious. i'm often either underwhelmed or overstimulated; in transition or in limbo. there's no proper sense of pacing here, just patterns that exist but can't be mapped-- at least, not by me.

i want to create something spectacular, is all.

immerse your soul with love

i'm sick to death of having incredibly bad luck recently. the past few weeks have been some of the best despite all this 'luck' i seem to be lacking. testing, very testing. failing to keep in control but memories and the best thing of the past three years being nearly repaired to where i am comfortable. mixed emotions and wondering what i want, but this is all i want for now and i can't wait for summer.

"So this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be." - Stephen Chbosky, The perks of being a wallflower

i believe this is the strangest thunder i have ever heard.

I'm trying to be smart. I'm trying to be patient and not repeat mistakes. Don't think so much. I’m trying not to stress. Less anxiety. Read things once and then not again. They probably thought what you first thought anyway. Don't think so much.

I am finally over it. It took a few weeks, but I made it. I’m back in my little independent zen bubble where typical frustrations don’t phase me.

Its only when other people get near my bubble that vexation enters my little realm of calm. Now I have greater understanding & knowledge that I do not want to let myself forget.

- Don't expect the same virtues/attributes from others that you would from yourself. A person's word is worthless until they prove themselves. Likewise don't trust anyone until you have witnessed firsthand behaviours which show the person is trustworthy.

- Keep your secrets close; a friend you confess to today may not be your friend tomorrow. Unspoken secrets tend to remain that way.
When in doubt keep your mouth shut. Too much damage can be done blabbing away trying to fix a situation. If you must say something, remember to breathe as it gives you pause for thought. Everyone is just as socially paranoid as the next person. Everyone has insecurities don't think you are alone and as such don't let peoples judgments colour your perception of self.



I've had my say, ive sent karmic kernels hurtling out into the great big fish bowl of the unknown & gotten no response, i'm done now.

j'aime et j'espere

When the clock strikes me the big hand will realize the grandeur of it's illusion and will begin to shrink in it's own eyes while the little hand marvels at the ball of energy spinning from it's palm. When the clock strikes me, everything will stop and that which was nothing will become the beginning again. When the clock strikes me, numbers will backfire, symbols will become that which they symbolize and sayings like 'out of the blue' will reveal their hidden origin. When the clock strikes me, people will gather to reconstruct the myths and fables that conspired against them and every new song will be an antiviris for an old belief. When the clock strikes me, women will close their doors, jump, dance and bang the walls in rememberance of their future selves while men fight internally to recall the recipe for freedom. When the clock strikes me, men will recall the recipe for freedom and will begin to form rescue teams for dreams defeated. When the clock strikes me, some people will have to die. When the clock strikes me, children will find it cool to be playful and adults will find it worthwhile to play like children. When the clock strikes me, the story of Jesus will be a childrens story where his name will be replaced with the name of every newborn and families will celebrate every birth as the rebirth of the messiah and all people will think of all people as chosen. When the clock strikes me, Buddah will still be laughing. When the clock strikes me, the power of being will overpower the powers that be. When the clock strikes me, thugs and poets will laugh at themselves, businessmen will serve humanity, leaders will turn to their mothers for advice and mothers will turn to their daughters for inspiration. When the clock strikes me, something will be different, something will feel completley random, the moment will feel slightly eerie, the unexpected will change places with the predictable and life will truly feel like an adventure. When the clock strikes me, no alarm will sound green streaks of light, may mark the night, stray cats may purr and rub themselves against your ankle, many people will double blink and pinch themselves and those who normally don't will notice the moon in broad daylight. When the clock strikes me, it will strike you too and even your cyniscm and concrete analysis will be brought into question as the most beautiful stranger makes himself / herself known to you. When the clock strikes me, your loved ones will glow with the beauty of complete strangers and you will have to reintroduce yourself to your parents for they will have never met the side of you that dances just because you found an old recipe. When the clock strikes me, you will be sitting someplace alone or with another, reading this and we both go off, unexpectedly, spines will tingle, eyes will water and this moment on this plane in my favorite jeans with 'Jimi' blaring in my ears will become now and forevermore and more eyes will water for they will know and they will feel it and live it and they will turn to the stranger beside them and say 'you have to read' and this will go down in history as one of those moments when you know that nothing would ever be the same.

Do you still see soul in my eyes?


I don't know what i am doing. I mean i sort of know but it doesn't really make a lot of sense and having seen someone go through a similiar situation i realise how stupid it looks from the outside. Made worse by the fact that i have realised just how far away i am from love right now.

course 101 in spiritual ruin

So here i am in slightly better shape than yesterday, though my head still hurts after days of indulgence which exceeded all others previously. I feel somewhat chagrined to note that I do these things in a kind of penance, to earn my karmic stripes of a sort. I've always held this belief that suffering makes people more intricate as a personality, that kind of hidden darkness behind the wry smile has always appealed to me.

The indulgence has often come from a sense of guilt though I haven't quite found out what I feel guilty about yet, everything I guess, but then nothing as well. Its funny though but this whole atonement through self destruction is kind of redundant when I really need to be reconciling with myself. The thing is though there has always been a sense of clarity and perspective afterwards, an energy to assist the deconstruction and renewal of aspects of myself that I don't like.

I've taken it too far now. I've learnt.

internal sunshine

I am at a point of fair satisfaction with life which makes a nice change to the current despair i've been feeling the past week or so. I attribute this to the fact that i am making decisions to correct the elements of my existance which frustrate me somewhat.

Weekend: anticipation builds as I can't wait to unleash and go psycho disco country madness. Though, concern mounts as things aren't falling into place like I hoped. We'll see. If anything, escaping the repetition of Melbourne will be enough.

Anyway, i've been wanting to jump out of a plane for a while now. Someone come with me. Please?


word of the moment : obeisance

curiosity killed the cat.

Sometimes it seems that there are common characters in life its just the person playing that character changes, like doctor who. Just mannerisms and idiosyncrasies tend to repeat themselves.

If there is a fate of sorts guiding things then wouldn't life seemed somewhat scripted? Does existance only serve as a system of attributing meaning to concepts? Does a person maintaining a concept that life is spiritual have a more meaningful existance than one who believes only in absolutes? What is the true value of a person, in what way can a person be measured and assessed on their accomplishments?


Today is a good day.