the whales are watching

where you want to do so much
so many important things

and the fact you have so many things to do
stalls you entirely and you do nothing instead

you know that feeling?



girlyyy

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98crMKHMtk0&feature=related


hehehehe
fucking kiwis

so ive been thinking
i'm going to try and update this more often
it seems ive abandoned this as i was adjusting my life and now im adjusting why i was using this
emo angst is fantastic and can lead to some very cathartic posts and even inspired writing [yeah right]
but i also feel that that need of mine has been filled and a new need brought to the foreground

so in light of this shift i would like to share a night i had a few days ago

( heres what happened )

loves.

'We should be able to transcend conventional humanism and open our eyes to absurdity, and instead of concealing the contradictions of humans, we should be be able to look on these as a force for embracing humanity.'

-Ozawa Tsuyoshi

something is compelling. is it lust? i doubt it. is it loss? i doubt that again. is it restored faith. no. there has been a void of a kind. left and right. left undone. right until now. renewed is too massive. moved. too floaty. this compulsion has been felt. that is it.
jealously remains floating around. just slight. transparent. i can never hold. more than i already am. i am selfish. a glutton. a sinner. you say loaded gun. i say lapse of thought. i carry you attached to my chest. forever will i carry. forever will i wish to meld. never is the repeated word. and never the echo. theres little different in tone. just intention. and maybe desire.
so do i wish?
an undying yes.
will i receive?
thats where the faith lies.
i have never shown possession like this.
except.
yes i have.
thwarted.
like a bad comic strip.
and like that bad comic strip.
theres a truth.
somewhere an appreciation.
with me?
no.
just pampered.

love.

she seems to notice more than you think. your words. and especially your phrasing. like a little pocket dictionary. that you never carry with you. you once received one for a gift. a precious green with smooth unadulterated pages. you keep it still. by the tv that has never lived. the breeze greets you for the first time in days. you are happy its here. while you wait for the envelope to fall. conversation and presentation. you both struggle for intelligent words. dying to be gone. dying to be free.
they're moving. like little balls of running feet inside a peaceful demeanor. you can't help but smile. your mrs. noah. celebrating life and company. stupid o'clock and a rumbling. maybe you should steal the steel cage of produce. maybe you should just move again. light, cloud, never. you haven't been able to figure it out yet. you remain faithful. watchful. erratically delighted. erratically disappointed. you stare at your feet. running your hand over plastic. stubbing things out. like a smoking statue on the street. you stir for coin. you stir for smiles. and remain silent. when the people disappear.

oh it rains!
oh how it rains!

i need to find my fucking umbrella

im off to play in the rain!

'I miss waking up with someone who means something. Until then I'd rather just wake up alone.'...

amen sister

Erena:

Erena likes - running her tongue along cigarette papers, the noise of an antique typewriter and tearing aluminium drink cans. She dislikes – warm beer, cold toast, people whose favourite film is Amelie and wearing shoes.

Erena walks into a bar. She lets herself settle into a familiar place. She watches the animated girl at the next table and waits for her to spill her wine. She does. It is a good day.

Erena leaves the bar. She walks forward and then left. She lights up at the lights and counts her steps to the curb.

The morning arrives slowly. She uses the phone it straightens her out. Life isn’t stylised. Erena is sick of the quirky narration.

I like – smoking, clunky noises and destruction. I dislike – warm beer, cold toast, Amelie and wearing shoes.

I went to Rics with some mates, someone spilt their wine on me. Lucky I was wearing black.

I am drunk, I leave the bar and trip over the curb.

The morning is hell, my mother calls.

oh there once was a place in mind
where the waitresses were hot and kind
i sat there and waited
and nearly fainted
when i swapped one of their numbers for mine

oh yeah

*sizzle*

the pot smokers out there be careful that your mother looking the best she can will walk right by. through the door behind you. yes. the one to your left. often she will knock. wiggle the door handle like she only knows how to. and you dream of a caravan. it has a butter yellow annex with front deflated tires. its overcast this day. the trees stir with the sea breeze. your caravan isnt on the beach. or even the cliffs. your caravan lays in a suburb. it has fences surrounding the home you have. highways border two sides. concrete steps lead to your sliding door. fraying carpet and lino floor. glass cups litter the space. next to the melted cigarette marks. you turn up in my room. i wrote a secret there. locked inside. why dont you smell the air? and maybe you will find the joker and his bell. ringing. ringing. ringing. standing inside is all i need. to keep myself here. a washing pile up the wall. stains clouding the white of the ceiling. and all i need. is for you to find the letter. i tacked to my chair.
the place is clean. but only becase its small. does the rubbish get seen before the clean. baby you see small family things. littered on simple shelves? this is a home. people laugh in here. and go sit. so you can come around. once its all over. you are part of an energy here. dynamics never seen before. difference. you like. baby can you see the crystal in the window? next to the fraying edge? small spiders sit in the corner. because of the little girl who wont kill the insects. baby can you see. the things that are from home? hairbrush, dirty socks, an open book. this is a caravan. screen instead of glass. the atmosphere is not of poor. the music is on. the time. dead.

reading.
a luxury i havent had for awhile.
but.
i am reading dribble.
i cant drag myself to the library.
its about a bastard.
who turns into a king's assasin.
ass-ass-sin
hahahaha
like the l word.
*hmmm*
kathy's birthday today.
im waiting now to go take her out.
21.
jesus.
i fell asleep at work.
a blissful three minutes.
sleeping on the side of a pallet.
last night i spoke to emily for the first time in ages. 2 years she said. shes a model now. of all things. i remember having the biggest crush on her. i bought her earrings. we had art class together at highschool. we would sit there and be assholes to each other. becoming more and more rude and loud. it was hilarious. she would try and out-word me. i forget who won.
all these people who once meant the world to me are now nothing.
nothing.
even then they didnt mean much.
i would say they did.
to live.
fit in.
whatever.
but as soon as i left. or they did. something.
it just fell to shit.
i remember nicole. we went to primary school together. she was actually one of the ones that tried the most. smart. tiny. rich. we wrote each other. about our mundane existances. sent photos. talked. i even went and saw her occasionally. never her to me. i dont know what happened to her. last i knew. or saw of her. i had just left highschool. was on the coast for something. saw her horse. she crashed her car. was bought another one. all i felt was extremely uncomfortable and unimpressed. we had changed.
kathy still isnt here.
doesnt surprise me in the slightest.
people you see. and your eyes just slide right over them. sometimes i cant be bothered engaging. smiling.
i smile at children.
all the time.
they are the ones that smile back.

heres one for you monkey
the FENCE
the fucking fence makes the photo

( the fucking fence )

of all the things.
the.
fence.

*walks away mumbling*

chewbacca.
for some reason i have that name running out all over my tongue.
its bob's little dog.
bob being the funniest woman on our shift. Robyn.
and her little dog being...man i dont know. i just remember calling it a rat dog so i assume its little and ugly.
cats are better anyway.
went and slept with cherokee this morning. then couldnt breathe. so moved.
so boom to that attitude.

17 hrs.
17hrs.
missed work.
apparantly mum woke me. i sat up and went 'Fuck It. Im not going.' rolled over, went back to sleep and didnt.
cant talk.
who needs to anyway.
rude gestures have always worked.
crying. fucking crying.
who does that?
obviously i do.
but really...
always the way.
to get bombarded all at once.
sickness. tiredness.
oh shut the fuck up.

everything on the weekend was great.
absolutely fucking great.
apart from the club thing on the gold coast.
but honestly what did i expect.
well.
nothing.
but i did tell cath.
and i tried to explain to caitlin how the whole nature of the place makes me want to combust on the spot.
but only managed to get out
'yeah but all the girls make...STAB STAB STAB'
while making the stabbing motions as well.
i think i frightened her.
but i think i made a bit of ground with her with my sugar trick.
not a trick as such. but very artistic all the same.
made a horse. out of sugar. on ze table.
tried to hide some of the other evidence under the sugar container thing.
worked well.

Big Day Out.
fucking. amazing. everything. all at once. the music. the bands. the people.
ok. stop. sit.
cant remember all of it. some parts are a bit blurry.
i remember the important parts.
at the end we were walking on a sea of bottles.
it made the best sound.
thousands of people squishing their feet on these bottles and cans.

the army store.
tan. fuck. you would love it in there.
EVERYTHING. absolutely everything. is in there.
hats. belts. german. polish. australian.
we spent hours trying everything on. taking photos. giggling our tits off.
found books next door.
dyke mag. pretty funny.
bascially we were annoying to every store assistant we met that day.

ok. tired again.
sore throat.
all that shit.
not sure if im working tonight.
i think i better.
cath told me not too.
money.
fuck.
i havent saved shit.
fuck.

tired.