I was engulfed by a wave that I didn't see or hear coming. Then suddenly I was under. Afraid. Lost .
There was nothing I could do, except wait.
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I don't want numbers they blur the page before my eyes a body count even less do I want names the missing the grieving another night to mourn and days of sorrow coming fear and fire on the blue green planet as we slaughter our people ourselves mass devastation brother sister torture, terror we do not forget rest in peace you die not in vain rest in peace rest in peace and may peace take you home we do not forget they cannot forgive my apocalypse slithers near waiting to strike watching you tearing the beating heart out of the world. |
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don't know why words like snowflakes fall no reason but to speak of the coming tide subtle beauty night calling I desire only words like sunlight piercing to warm me bitter season winter winds now rending words from me like boughs from treetops to scatter on frozen earth like snowflakes freeze still the cheerful spring of poetry my white forest empty, silent, brittle, waits no warmth in words to thaw us don't know why words like snowflakes drift unable to tempt summer back to this place. |
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I put away every sharp object: pin and blade and dangerous edge. I still don't trust myself with scissors, even these days. Part of loving oneself is knowing how far that love extends. Part of being a family is knowing you'll have to leave. How far I've come, to stand here and to hold myself up - courage, pride, strength. I break so easily - tears to drown me; rage to scream at you endlessly - because I'm guilty of knowing that these days are numbered few. Regret sits on the back step with the pumpkin we didn't carve this year, because I wasn't here - unwanted, unaddressed and necessary. I'm not your little girl anymore - I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to go and grow up and go away. I stare at my wrists hating time for dragging me on through life; for tearing us apart and casting me into future. Oh, how I want to remain - I'm not your little girl now, but I'll always be your daughter and I'll always be your big sister; I'll always want this house; I'll never leave. I put away the scissors, and my ink and all my words. I chose to live that night, years ago, for you, so now I have to go. Part of being a family - however torn, however mad - is knowing you'll never have to leave, right? I'll always have what you gave me: courage, pride, strength and love; and I'll always be your daughter your big sister - always belong. |
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words that die on my tongue, once sole respite, cage me - accuse me of ignoring the truth. I don't want these words. my head echoes with absence. my head a graveyard for words unsaid - unholiest peace. - words move in; use up all the sugar; trash my fragile state of unthinking; tear off the wallpaper, exposing cracks. I kill words on the doorstep, pre-emptive. my domain is of silence and bitterness. no one knocks on my door anymore: loneliest relief. |
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I had the mother in law of all anxiety attacks last night. there were visions and uncontrollable crying. There was feeling 'lost' and small. I was engulfed by a wave that I didn't see or hear coming. Then suddenly I was under. Afraid. Lost . There was nothing I could do, except wait. |
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Unsent letter -MGF I try to talk to you And can't get past the weather The friend I thought I knew Found somethin' somewhere better So I'm hangin' on your line Thought we could speak together Don't know what it is with you You seem gone forever I'm spending all my time Driving 'round, faking clever With a girl who seem alright And another one who's better I don't know if I lied When I said we're not together But I tried to talk to you And somehow you seem gone... I know what could've been Try not to think about it Found it hard to live with this Longed to live without it My dreams have caught me out I find myself surrounded By the odds of our own ends Enough said about it I'm spending all my time Driving 'round, faking clever With a girl who seem alright And another one who's better I don't know if I lied When I said we're not together But I tried to talk to you And somehow you seem gone... I've given up some things I guess that doesn't matter Started other things I guess that doesn't matter I finally wrote your song Another unsent letter In a pile addressed to you Care of something somewhere better I'm spending all my time Driving 'round, faking clever With a girl who seem alright And another one who's better I don't know if I lied When I said we're not together But I tried to talk to you And somehow you seem gone... I'm spending all my time Driving 'round, faking clever With a girl who seem alright And another one who's better I don't know if I lied When I said that I'm together But I tried to talk to you And somehow you seem gone forever Yeah, I tried to talk to you And somehow you seem gone forever Yeah, I tried to talk to you Somehow you seem gone... If you know, then you'll see the irony of what was and what is. I'm crying tonight because I've lost two... two because I wasn't able to make the right decisions. The internet swallowed my post. So maybe you're not meant to know... There's nothing I wouldn't do for either of them... So I wish I were as cold as a cast iron cunt. |
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I've been thinking about context... and how it can really make or break a set of circumstances. you know, that thing that seems so tragic in one light could actually be uplifting in another. Case in point: I am terribly behind at uni... what might seem a disaster, in another context, could be an uplifting point because it would reveal the imperfections in a somewhat perfect appearing character and hence make that character able to be related to in a more 'real way'. So, to make this all make sense, if I were Rory from the Gilmore girls it would be a charming plot twist, to reveal my age sensitive innocence, when it were revealed that I am behind with work. But my circumstance is that I am just behind in a 'reality' that gives no shits for the struggling student who desperately just needs to get out and start doing her 'job' of choice without all the fucking hoop jumping! In other news, I think I may be making my hair confused. I have been picking shampoo based on smell rather than label. I'm using a normal/clarifying shampoo and a moisturising conditioner. There's ya fluff people. Is it as cute coming from me? Bah, there could be more on this subject, but i think i would be repeating myself. Listen to feist. Tron |
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How would I describe my day? What metaphor could possibly encapsulate the decadent awfulness of today? Could the be such literary anomalies? Let me attempt anyway to paint you a picture, with faeces on the wall... It is raining here, turning the ground into a slush which resembles a mucous more than mud. I saw a duck go tits up, it is no lie. My car died today. Its not my car, but it IS my primary mode of transport. four thousand plus dollars and two weeks to get it back on the road. Money I do not have. Money we do not have. It is spewing a fine mist of coolant out of its arsehole, the result of a dead head gasket. In short, new engine. So in light of this, I've been offered a dream job. I can teach art to semi-intoxicated women via the process of studying hot naked men. What could be better. Lets get a little feminist equality happening here. BUT... I've been offered a trial waitressing. Nice place, but its just the same old shit. I don't really want to take the work, but the money might be better. The 'right choice' is to take the trial. To do the shitty work for more money. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And because the car is dead, I'll miss both the Fathers Day dinner with my family tonight and the Havelocks gig I've been dying to get to.... Did I mention I have to pull 4.5K out of my arse? I don't make that in a MONTH! this is rooted. so very very rooted. If you don't mind I'm going to feel sorry for myself... OH and PS Dave you're a fucking CUNT because you're full of shit and you're a two faced arsehole! There I said it. Sure, I think Disturbed is GAY but if you make a big deal about me not going because its going to be a 'boys night' and you're glad to get time with Tim, don't invite other chicks, or it just looks like you don't want me there you anal fissure. Fuck you. --tron |
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Its been a long time since I've written anything. This was brought to my attention by someone I haven't seen in a long time. It was nice to catch up. Don't get too big a head about your mention. I'm ok. I just haven't felt like writing here for a while. I haven't had anything to say. Things have either been going well enough to distract me from the blog, or have been going badly enough that I didn't want to spread that kind of thing around. But here I am with another post, from my rather quiet life. I'm waiting to hear back from a job interview yesterday. Its for teaching art. I think the interview went well. So, its just a matter of time to see how I really did with it all. I'd love to teach life drawing to groups of women. It would be excellent. If I don't hear back from them, I start a trial with a restaurant locally next wednesday. I don't really want to work there, but I really would like to have more money again. I want to buy a coffee machine! (and be able to afford to pay bills...) I'm very tired at the moment, and not very motivated. Its a 'time of year' thing. I'm trying my best to doggy paddle to some kind of land, but the waves of my uncontrolable emotions are washing over me and sending me back into myself again. I think I need to withdraw from certain situations. I'm sorry, I'm not ready. Just not. Its too hard for all concerned, and for what? Things get further under my skin than they do those around me anyway, I'm sure of it. Shopping tomorrow for a dress to wear to a wedding. I'm MCing a friend's wedding. They must be silly putting me in that position... I'll have to write speeches its high school all over again. I'm painting more. Its for uni, and its good to be doing it. I'm caring more about this stuff. But I have to go. next week I have a lot to do and I need to go away and get some of the work that I have been putting off done. curse my shithouse study habits. I'll see you all... never. Tron |
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I miss a web comic that I used to read called "Romulus and Remus" but it seems to have been swallowed whole and digested, bones and all, by the unforgiving internet. Why cruel world? So I haven't been around much. I had a birthday recently. Thank you, 24. It wasn't an easy birthday for a number of reasons. None of which I feel tempted to divulge here, or this might get to be a 'personal' entry and you would have nothing. Be grateful. I'm starting to read around, oh yeah you know it, and I think its time my rants became a little more cohesive, a lot longer, and definitely more linked to the shared human experience. So I'm putting my mood to 'destructive' hurrah. See you next time. |
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Today has been a strange day. A strange week. A continuing, developing, misanthropic sense of self. Another dialogue with no one. More strange dreams. More events. More work. Wonderings. Present de-aspirations. Apathy/Contentment. Illness creeping up... flu kind not anything else. University ever onward. Weariness. Excitement. Something to care about. Hiatus. Industry. Caution. En Guarde. Begin again... ad infinitum. |
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When I go to the city Its to purge the smell of eucalypts and wood smoke From my memory and replace it With grit, dirt and something else… I need to remember why I’m not here. When I go to the city, I need to smell The bad breath coming from the trams The stink of rage The apathy that leaks from every pore of The crush around me, I need to smell vicinity. I need to smell urine And shit And booze And stress And overuse And waste And forgetting And losing And wishing And hoping… I need to smell dreams being born And death. When I go to the city, I forget the exhilarating Permanent marker smell Of fast car petrol And late night binging. I need to forget my own smell lingering Amongst the people I brush against When I’m out of my mind. When I enter the city When the city enters me I need to block out its pheromones And not fall in love. |
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thank you for bringing your precious bundle of joy to my house. I should have expected this when I invited you for dinner. Wow. They scream that much. Honey, see we don't want kids any time soon. What? This is good. Thats excellent. Honey we really do not want kids any time soon. Ok, lets have dinner. Where do you put him? I don't know. I don't have anywhere. Ok just on the couch. (mind he doesn't spew on my blue couch... white baby chuck doesn't come out so easily). Smile. Oh aren't you cute. He did a shit that big huh? Ah, thats what the noise is. You want attention. Adult conversation anyone? Yes, he is cute. Yes you are tired. No, not much to say? Ok. You don't want to catch a movie or something? No worries. I understand. You have to get the little angel back to bed (seriously). And I'll see you again soon. Maybe we could go out on the bikes, start looking around for a sitter. Drive safe. See you later. I need a drink. |
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I drift; afloat upon the tides of time and emotion; the waves of my life: a restless sea uneasy and ever shifting beneath me. only glimpses, in sunless moments, reveal the depth; the weight; the darkness, below the surface upon which I ride, balancing so precariously - it beckons, it threatens to overwhelm; to pull me in and under. the instants of shaken resolve and loneliness cast me close to the edge, where I view in dizzying clarity the fathoms-deep despair awaiting and reel back from the drop, the light in me refusing to be extinguished - my saving grace. adrift from all anchorage save for that within myself; I sail on over the deep, endless grey ocean - alone. |
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I'm not okay with no motivation. I can't work in the 'artistic' headspace any more. I need motivation. There is some, I'm sure, stored somewhere in a box clearly marked 'get off your arse' but I seem to have lost the key to that box and I can't get into it. Staring at it isn't getting anything done. AGH... Time to go... to try and not make the same pattern of mistakes. Tron |
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I click the dial on the washing machine to synthetics. Its a shorter cycle, save the planet. I feel synthetic myself tonight. I feel thoroughly unmotivated. I see posts on here about new things, and here, at the end of semester, I'm finishing something when other people are starting. Its startlingly incongruous. I'd like to feel like I were headed somewhere. Like I were motivated toward a goal. But I'm not. And surprisingly, despite this empty feeling and a longing to 'get up and go somewhere every day' I'm not too worried by the whole experience. On the whole, I find demotivation the usual place to be when the air turns cold. Something else opens up inside my head and creative wheels start to turn. I'm like a deciduous tree to look at, stark, gaunt, completely still... not doing anything and surrounded by the rotting decay of my own leaves. But inside, I'm not dead. I'm just sleeping, and thinking. I could be like this forever. I could be content with this... if only I could quell that desire to get up and go somewhere every day. I wish there was a vaccination that could prevent this sometimes. I wish there were some kind of 'dilligence' drug that made you want to do things (I think there might be one, I think its called 'speed')... But then again, is it better to be in this natural state of stagnance, to take stock of all that is not happening? I have no answers. |
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Why is it that a person can feel completely fine until they walk into a therapist's office. I challenge you to find me someone who won't consider themselves a little mad after subjection to the intensity associated with the medicinal confessional that is my therapists offices... Today I felt fine, balanced. Unmotivated, definitely but still, fine enough in my life. But step into that office, and I am again disintegrated into the ball of raw sinew and fuckery that I have come to associate with these sessions. I left early. I hated myself for the lack of commitment. I am successfully conditioned to deteriorate in small rooms with high ceilings and yellow walls... my god-- the walls in my house are ALL YELLOW... (not my choice). So here I am feeling totally shit about the whole experience, and assured by the many voices of judgement within me that not one soul will give a shit. Good on you if you do. Its a wonderful place inside my head. I think I'll go to sleep. night world. Tron |
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I wish I were wiser. three days later I put away my shoes and my expectations after that I stop looking at all the photographs and when that's done slowly I accept that it's really over. one of these days, I'll learn but until then I'll probably let me down. the dress hangs on the closet door; I expect no more from it. the chaos of good times made irrelevant by the reality I face. I wish there were more to me than wishing my life is one big good intention left unmanifest. |
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I am free. Free in my own mind. Whirling, swirling, twirling in happiness. Light as air, too far from the ground with relief. Soon, all this shall be over. I am returning to my first love: The english language. I don't mean to discriminate and exclude the many other beautiful languages out there, this is, simply, the only language that I have... I am returning HOME, to myself. I am changing paths, a little, again to become more myself. My life is a stone and I am carving myself out of it pebble by pebble. I am closer to my dream. I have accepted fate. I like it. I love it... I have gained all I need here, and am ready to move on. I made this decision today, and it made the world make sense. I am becoming again, what I always was deep down. THANK FUCK! Perhaps, just maybe, (the bald man had no hair), this therapy caper is working. I can see the self satisfaction seeping out of my therapist when I make progress, but I refuse to get into that... not now. I can't corrode this. |
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When did dressing like a slut get glamorous? There's a few questions on my mind that I'd like the general public, or society as a whole to answer for me. This is the first of them. If you put on something skimpy from an op-shop or something that's hand me down no matter how good condition its in, you're trashy. If you buy the same kind of thing new, and cover it in diamonties than your classy? Well maybe its not that simple. You do have to slick your hair down and make sure you're clean, and there's a certain implied elegance in 'class' but essentially, you're either all hanging out there, or 'creating the illusion' of all hanging out there, and realistically isn't that one of the trashiest things you can do? Firstly, that last sentence was far too long. Secondly, its wrong to judge, out loud. People don't like to feel like they're being judged, but we all do it. We rely on the external appearances of others to make those split second judgements about how much value they might be to us. We are, after all, social capitalists. We all are, regardless of your economic viewpoint. But this is beyond my original point. My point was about class, and the seeming lack of it when all your body parts are on display. I sometimes think that animals have it much easier when it comes to appearance, but whatever, that's another post. So back to class. I guess its all about the presentation of a message. See, to me, looking beautiful without the perfect body, without the mint of money, that's something. Its easy to 'scrub up nice' if you never get dirty. For me, I like those hard won battles. And I don't like diamonties. There's something a little bit trivial about overtly worshipping those 'shiny things'. I guess what I'm trying to say amongst this very tired prattle, is that its the messages that are hard won that count. Its the person who took the effort to say what they wanted without compromising that impresses me. Anything can live up to this high ideal of mine: art, music, dance, drama, literature, conversation... taking the time to get the message out there without using cheap tricks will always seem more classy, elegant, sophisticated to me than all the diamonties, or even diamonds real or metaphorical you can dish up... Tron |