what now, then?

things are not as stable as one might originally assume.
it's more of a push in the right direction, though, when shit starts to fall apart. not always violent, often obvious (as long as your eyes are watching) and always in line with that which is best for you. so what do you do? ignore it? that just gets you into more trouble. nod your head and follow the scent, possibly risking one of the best things that has ever entered your life? what then?
i've moved to melbourne, out of my hometown, and successfully (though struggling most of the time) lived here for close to a full year. the city is starting to wear me down and i can see the decline as clear as day; lack of energy, despondency, self-confidence in the nascent stages of dissolution. not what is best for me.

fuck.
in a matter of days it's all changed again and shifted into the next phase. i wish i had been better prepared.

but these things have a tendency to move without warning for those who are looking the other way.
i forget to watch the sky most of the time. this is where i fall short of my potential.

but the idea of losing that which i have worked so hard for... that is an intimidating and confusing thought. i whole-heartedly (and more) hope that particular sacrifice will not have to be made.

hmm.

lucidity

i'm just about to go to bed after an amazing weekend.
i feel revived. even though it's hot, some may say it's oppressive... i am fresh. and alive. and quite content.
i have the serious intention to do many things, and do them well. and i mean really well. how i will manage to, well i haven't quite worked that out yet. but i shall. and when i do, man, things are going to be pretty amazing.


rest, now.

it is asleep

i had dreams about dropping things again. like cereal boxes with liquid inside them, and just as they slip i jolt awake. now my ribs hurt when i breathe in, or move in an odd manner.

here lies the grave of... who shall we say? my little brain, lifting the secret layers and finding a less than comfortable place to rest for one night (and one night only), i realize i have missed the full moon. here lies incessant warmth that is sweaty and deep in the night-time, i fall asleep earlier than i did because my energy has been used up. this is the way of the human.
so here lies your body, and mine, and we are free from pretense most of the time. but when you are asleep i wonder what you dream, and when you are asleep you can't encase yourself in ideas of yourself, when you are asleep or even half-asleep you will be like a book if only i could work out how to open you. come on. it doesn't take much.
here in the light that pulses through the porthole of a window i am just a body. last night i was more. i can feel the ache in my back, in my ribs, i can see the light alter as the clouds roll in. i am listening to you grumble and moan in your sleep, i am listening to you breathe. i am a whole human with sensory experience, and last night i was not. last night i was something slightly bigger, well a lot bigger, than you realize. i fell downwards, felt the jolt when i dropped you, i fell up. my eyes closed again, i fell back down. it was rain, then. one single droplet speedily and unknowingly descending to the earth to be absorbed and to dream of tree roots and dinosaur bones. i was rain, then. more than one. a whole cloud's bounty. it was lighting, friction of energyon energy onskinresonating on - sitting whole and circular feeling nothing but childlike excitement and fear for the force that (soundsurroundyou) you are when you sleep
my wrists are smaller, now. if i could record what i say in my sleep, my nocturnal (subconscious cognitive) emissions, i would find nothing that would make sense to me while i am awake. for now sensations reign over all else. in waking life. i want to kiss, touch, eat, hear, i have friends and loves and passions and circles to create and condense into. in my sleep i venture unknowingly in the opposite direction (or utterly knowing?), outwards, with no boundary lines or hints or clothing. no smells to trigger memories of
lying in a bathtub in a foreign country looking out the french doors onto a mountain that overwhelms you, at peace you miss some things but otherwise feel good;
cutting fruits like kiwi and apple and dipping them in henna and chinese ink to print onto pieces of paper that may be slightly too thin but it doesn't matter, it's his house, and isn't he so affectionate and good to cuddle up to;
combinationbodies. like locks they have to twist and try to bend and break and breathe into each other, once the right key is discovered amongst the rubble of past endeavours something will (click) make sense, feel right, combinationscents, instinct kicks in and the door/safe/treasurechest is open.

but none of that exists outside of conscious thought. there is only out, not in. you aren't even interested in opening that little thing because outside and around it is infinite exploratory potential and the thought doesn't even cross your mind because how could it? you are not thinking. it is rain, then. it is the eye and the ear of the storm (amongst other analogies). it is not a sense, or a single object but a force. an emotion, or a pulse. a layer that is not like an (objectyourecognize) but a (cosmic echo). okay so maybe you do recognize it. a solar system, or a gobstopper. onion, maybe. it's not important.

the longer i spend wondering instead of giving sensation attention, the more my back hurts. it demands it. i suppose i should go and have some breakfast.

bringing it all back home

man, i used to write so much poetry. now i go to write or draw on anything and i freeze up. my brain is like, "heh, uh what? you want me to do what now? hell no dawg. i'ma go on chillaxin, yeah". so i prod it a little and it just gets irritated and tell me to piss off. maybe i should buy it some pastries.

but the different stages in my life are starting to coalesce. physically, more than anything else, but i have always found that physical connection assists in mental collection. hey, i still got it.

today is going to be an organization day. physically and mentally. gotta file some shit and put things in drawers and on shelves. gotta shelve it.

mmm.

i see faces and traces of home

there's not much left in this one horse-town for me. apart from old friends and loved ones, and a ceiling-high pile of dusty bits that were supposed to propel me to some sort of elevated state, i have no need for it. maybe the ocean. and the smell of the air way up here. but that's all.

there has been a paradigm shift in my little fuzzy brain. the only thing that i feel i am lacking right now is mental stimulation. i haven't been reading or writing or creating enough to get that shit ticking away like it used to.

i had a really intense nightmare last night. except i was only half-asleep, and the feeling of it was suffocating. i think i may have been trying to wake myself up. it was so odd. there was noise and dark colours, like reds and blacks in strange patterns. the noise was echoing endlessly but it wasn't a melodic sound, it just shuddered and filled my head, it made me feel sick and disoriented.

confusing.
but i was comforted by him. when i woke up.

my brain hurts, my eyes ache

it's about that time again.
now that i have internet in my house, at my disposal, i am able to have these little explosions again. push my irritable emotions into the ether. get 'em out there. translate them into a series of electrical impulses that subsequently forms 8-bit binary strings and tell my lappy what pixels to show on a screen so you, mr bloggenstein, can collect the light emitted and flip it the right way up and recognize these words, which will give you that little extra insight into my own painfully frustrating electrical impulses... you get the gist.

...

i gotsts me a house

signed the lease on friday
moving in on wednesday
we plan to have a pool table in the kitchen and a four-square court in the back carport
i am friggin excited.
things are coming together, well and truly.
i'm gonna go spend an hour or so thinking and writing stuff.

and, even though i lost my tickets to mogwai,
i think i'm pretty happyyyyyyy

i got some dirty boots

babayyyyyyy

(i sank into the sea)
i really wish i was somewhere else right now. on top of a hill. or under a wave. or in a shed.
everything breaks when it meets the water.
i lit fires on the shore, and i forgot about them. they've long since stopped burning but there are bits left, scraps of coal, fine white ash that dissolves when you touch it.
i hear the crackling in your voice like a roar. it rushes into my ears and fills my eyes with the sea.
it's all i can do to mumble an agreement, the ocean is making my throat hoarse and alien, small noises make themselves heard without prior permission or intention, i am at a loss to myself.
thereisnothingthereisnothing that will ever match up to that moment thereisnothing that will ever be as complete we will never be as complete

breathe in.
the air gets colder, the feeling of being observed heightens. you would be happy with the person i am becoming. you are happy with the person i am becoming, inasmuch as you can be. with all of us. we are doing things. we are living. even if even if you never had that choice even if the world was just too much of a struggle and would always be that way in some wordless screaming unending void of a one-way street
we have ways around, we have hardened hearts, we can pick up our dragging feet
and keep walking
and keep our slightly chipped shells intact for another day, week, indecipherable period of time,
press them to our ears and hear the roaring rushing riptide of our blood and your blood and the sea's blood
and not let myself forget the way it felt
the closest i will ever get to being whole
the furthest we ever were from being alone
the closest we ever were to having heartshells for a home

sky blinding, crumbling walls

full moon tonight, there is buzzing around the south-west of my body and i know that is where it sits waiting to rise bloated and fleshy
and the earth's shadow will follow
the sun
is still behind some clouds but brightbright bright enough
musn't let musn't let my intoxication overcome must find must find the equilibrium between inspiration and restriction
i am playing songs today on my guitar and it buzzes more than usual at least to my ears
i am not high, i am not under the influence of anything more than 2 strong coffees and i swear by now they should have worn off
my head
is cocked to the side and i listen for
harmonies quivering in the ether, patient, waiting to resound
i am humming today
it is february but the eclipse is in leo
22
is the age of reason

my body moves free
my bones loosen
but i have not given up

since this morning i have been comfortably unsettled i have been moving either physically or mentally or musically
twigstwigs in my hair freshly refracted
the colour of the ceiling via the couch

she the room
leaves
the fall early this year
it is still a month before autumn
there are ashes in the
cold air

there are ashes in the cold air
south from here, south-east
and now i think, just now i am thinking
why can i not get through to my window? the window
i can't see from here

musn't let musn't let it get out of hand out of sight out of sound
i cannot hear my window the window
i cannot hear

but things can burn even in this cold
loss can turn me to ice even in this heat

and now i can't get the thought out of my head, just now i am thinking
i haven't eaten since i woke 10 hours ago
(my love, i feel unsteady)
i will see what i want to see

and watch my earth's shadow move from the roof, the tree, the earth
i just need to hear
i cannot hear
i am not too sure
when it will rise but i want to be there to see it


i want to be there to sing it

holy and wanting

skin will hang loose
when your heart beats too heavy
when your arms swing swing swing
for lack of control

i want to do nothing productive.
correction: i want to be amazingly productive without having to make any effort whatsoever.
my self-disciplinary skills seem to be waning while
my flesh is waxing. and it seems to melt sometimes.
addictions are dirty things, they inch into your pores and itch back out again, leaving you holy and
wanting to destroy
wanting to destroy

but i didn't think the mice could get up here
is it dried flowers scratching the door frame?
is it my throat delivering a sentimental growl, unnoticed

and the rust buckled my window
i place my head on it and it is warm
i find myself wanting the sympathy of the wrought iron
i bury my head in the glass, but it doesn't even crack.
fuck. all i wanted was some sort of comfort some sort of peelingpaintbluelitmetalcoldcomfort
but i suppose you have seen too much of that already, haven't you?
i suppose you recognized it the moment i threw the line,
the moment it broke the water's surface,
bait shuddering with a self-deprecating ripple.

i should teach myself to stop.

with each tongue that is placed in your mouth, my confidence shrinks.

i am almost cowering under the covers with each scritch at the closet door
i am tensing in frustration every time pressure is suggested.
i am mentally and violently retaliating at each sound
wanting to destroy
wanting to destroy
rust will crumble from my ears
let it
go with
it will be
fine let it

and it depresses me
it shits me
that nothing is making more sense
it frustrates me
that
in fact it is going in the opposite direction

i'm all over the place. my sense of judgement is out of town for a bit.
it may have skipped the country before it got charged for fleeing the scene of the crime
i swear the ceiling fan is tapping back at me.
i swear that one of these days i will so viciously bury my face into my guitar that my eyes will become fields of splinters
you and i can skip through them, hand in rustedironhand, me and you, the window and me.

so, uh

i hells live in melbourne now.
this place kicks some serious ass. i mean, the pub up the road plays only vinyl and we had a game of scrabble while drinking gin & tonic and smoking and discussing all sorts of awesome shite. there are only a couple of things missing from this scenario, but give it time, justine...
i really hope i find a job hey. that could be very handy, for things like rent. and food. (maybe i shouldn't be drinking expensive gin as much as i am. or a bloody mary for breakfast.
anyway, that is a job for a day when it's not 40 billion degrees. mojitos were made today, to honour the ridiculous wave of hot. also, walked down to the local pool, broke in, had a dip around 11:30pm, got chased away by the cops... all in all a very fulfilling night methinks.
i would write some poetry but i am quite tired. cigarette, cold beverage, bed. that's the way.

goodnight, blogatron. sleep well, if you do indeed sleep at all...

ju x

holy awesome, batman

http://www.pool.org.au/

w00t
peeps like my photo so much dey's puts it on their homepage

i did a little dance when i saw this. i was already quite happy so it was just boosted! supa-mega-happy!
sugoiiiiiii

yr lappy a splode

my computer is dyyyyying
i have no moneys for more computerrrr
it's overheating and melting my legs off.

i don't need them anyway! legs shmegs
holy craaap
i need to back up all my shit before lappy dies
NOOOOOO LAPPPY nooo

iced water? anyone?