Thursday, August 27, 2009

Lost It Probs

Dazed confused, lost and bruised.
I am somewhere between this black and blue

My head is pounding, WHY WONT THE DAMN THING Stop!

Quiet. Ba dum dum, ba dum dum, ba dum dum. I can feel the pulse go through my skull and echo down my neck. I feel its needle like fingers probe me.

Probe. Ba Dum Dum, Ba Dum Dum.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Hounds of Love


I wonder.

Too many times.

I will find you one day and steal you back into my Neverland where we exist.

Then there will be no more wondering for me.

Sugar Man

Vice. Addiction. Drug. Habit. Routine. I am tired of this scene.

I want to see these colours again, I want to see the shore.

I want to see the barren plains that part me and the whore.

I want symphonies.

Summer Haze

I am floating, I am floating, I am floating
Tip toe across the waters still skin
ripples ripples ripples
My center of balance is all out of whack...

SO, I sit again stumbling over Graceland trying to figure out where and when the last truck stop took me and where I am now. I lost my travel companion months ago, across the t-intersections and stop lights. I wonder where they got off? As if I didn't know. I am sure I should know.

But I lost them! Who am I to go against the wind? Another one to shrug off.

So where to now oh trusty compass? We have gotten lost so many times, or is it lost? Am I just going exactly where I intended?

Hmm. Could just be crazy.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Day 3: Been and Gone

Day 3: The Chronicles

So as day 3 of unemployment waived hello and goodbye, I now must face the reality of what a working week is like without work. Which tomorrow I am sure will bring many a resume reviews for part-time bar tending jobs to keep my income steady in some sort of way. As a reflection of the weekend past, my fellows and I partied hard in memory of what now is, a past event. Dignity was left on my back deck at approximately 12noon Friday, and I am still struggling to find it. I know there are shreds of it left at 'the Grove' but that I'm sure is where it ends. There is no better way than to end something with such a self destructive drinking binge that leaves even yourself guessing. But to great times. Day 3 brought self reflection, sizzling sun at a BBQ on the river and a good hard look in the now ever foggy mirror that is my life.

Welcome working world, for I, never one to have received Centerlink, refuse to line up and join the masses. Fruit picking is good enough for me!

Friday, August 21, 2009

Unemployed! The Recession Hits!

And so the recession has loomed its ugly head in my life and forced its appearance to take action. I am now redundant. As of 12pm Friday 21st August, I was informed that my position was no longer required, that and the position of the 7 employees that worked underneath me. Again we fall pray to the corporate giants. So now I am unemployed after the longest stint of employment I have managed to maintain. It does seem however to be the cruel irony of my life that when things start go get into full swing, and I am marching to the beat of my own success, that I trip, sprain an ankle horribly, and spend the rest of my pride filled march hobbling meekly down the road. Enough of self pity however, I am going to spend this time channeling my inner hobo, working the bars again until I fly fly away to the cold arctic climate of a European winter. Which means, for anyone out there that actually cares enough to read my pitfalls and opinions, I will document my recent unemployment for all those who wish to know.

And this being day two, I am still riding high on the presence of the weekend after a full time working work and am sure that the true fuckedness of my situation will not punch me in the chest till Monday morning when I no longer follow the routine I have so carefully followed for the last 22months. Questions have raged through my mind, the obvious being money, rent, food, blah blah blah, but mostly, what will I do now for a morning coffee? Where will my workmates be when I am riding high in delirousness and have no-one to share the fact that Kelly Clarkson still makes song, and no-one to find it as truely repulsive as I do. Sigh.

Ode to better days, and a drink for days to come.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Endless Rain Into A Papercup

Confession.

I am a serial reader. News, fantasy, comics, blogs, diaries, nonfiction, fiction, any genre and any style. I devour books like a third world child who just found the last grain of rice on the floor. The most exhilarating thing I find about reading is that it takes the brain places that reality just can't. It ties threads in stories that Sherlock Holmes couldn't track and keeps you guessing like sex with the lights off.

The end.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Fake Plastic Trees



I have a very awful habit, and I guess its actually a personality trait, to overthink, over-analyse and just basically over power my feeble brain by trying to think too much. Often, over analysing, just the word itself implies to do too much of something, but what are the effects? For me, I am often left more confused than I begun with and certainly have many paranoid attacks over the results.


A few I have noticed that over the years I have succumbed to, is to over analyse even the most basic aspects of life.


Example 1. Breathing


When I was a small child, sleeping used to be something that came easy. Until one night I was up, tossing and turning like I never had before and thats when I realised, I was sure it, I had forgotten how to sleep. So I lay there still in the ever darkening dark thinking on how I had I always managed to fall asleep and what was different now. Then I had the 'Eureka' moment. My 5 year old self was sure that to sleep, you needed to stop breathing. So I spent the next few hours trying to hold my breath till I assume I eventually passed out from lack of oxygen and drifted into a haze. Of course until the next few nights when over thinking plagued me with the question on how exactly do I fall asleep.


Also, sleeping next to someone. Now I suppose blogging is a way to admit these dark issues that haunt us in our minds, and what better way than to share it over a medium that almost anyone can access. So here's to mental instability! Back to sleeping next to someone. On quiet nights, when you are not the first to fall asleep and all you can hear is the breeze on the trees outside and the rise and fall of your friends chest, you start to think about how they breathe. Sleeping breath is one of the nicest, most purest moments I could ever think of. Not to sound like a stalker, but I think sleeping is the closest people come to ever crawling back into that womb that we so dearly cherished for 9months. A place of innocence at least to onlookers. But I lie there trying to align my breathes with theirs, until I fear I am breathing to loudly for all to hear, or not breathing enough that I am slowly suffocating myself. It can be a very awkward task to try and snap yourself out of.


Example 2. Walking


Walking is something that comes to us, we all learn it, we all conquer it, we all have a different way of doing it, maybe the expression should be 'It's like walking, once you learn you never forget', get rid of all this bike nonsense. Well I guess the reason we don't use that expression is because we DO forget.


I was walking down a hill today, a hill I have walked down for the past 2 years, the same path, the same damn road, the same grass, yet this time the only thing that had changed was my brain and its communication with my legs. I was angle walking, viciously. I looked like a drunk woman doing an 8am walk of shame back from a very very big night (shoes in hand of course), but alas, I was not. It was 8am of course, but I was sober, showered, wided eyed and bushy tailed but maybe my brain didn't wake up yet because my feet started to wiggle alittle. Like I suddenly was doing the hokey pokey down the hill...right foot in, right foot out... To add to my mind blank, I also cross paths with numerous construction workers, who all witnessed my gap brained moment of walking shame. I was definitely thinking about walking as my brain tripped into the ecstacy of ignorance, maybe that was what did it?


Example 3. Spelling


Bolognese, Spaghetti, neccessary, naughty, forty, plague, vague, accommodation.


Ever stare at a word for so long you are convinced you have spelt it wrong?


Bolognaise, spahgetti, nescessary, nourghty, fourty, vaige, acomodation.


Examples of common ones that often annoy me to the point I need to walk away from the paper, gather the skills that I was taught for 12 years and reapply them to real life. Yes - English was a skill I would use every day. No - I will not always be good at it.


Example 4. Long Division


Just as a fun fact - I ALWAYS forget how to do this, then at the right moment of insanity, PING! I remember.


Nothing any of you needed to know, nothing I cared to share. But now because of my sharing all of you know something that I never cared to need.



Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Power of the VOODOO


You remind me of the babe...


What babe?


The babe with the power


What power?


The power of the voodoo...


Who do? You do!


Remind me of the babe!






Texts Between Haters From Opposing Living Rooms

H1: 'OMG I hope your watching a current affair!'


H2: 'Bogans...'

H1: 'I am so glad that was the reply I got from you.'

H2: 'Agree?'

H1: 'Yes, They're probs from Nundah'

H2: 'A current affair is a fucking joke, and not a funny one 'That he could have used to terrorise innocent passengers' Sickening.'

H1: 'I know right thus my fury blog. That knife is well sharp though'

H2: 'Well Sharp. How many sporting analogies can she (Tracy Grimshaw) use in one sentence? Many...Many...'

H1: 'If only we have a primetime TV show that was just us mocking primetime Tv Shows.'

H1: 'STUNT MIDGETS'

H2: 'You...are too good. Stunt Midgets...Angry Midgets'

H1: 'Can't about to give birth to a pizza baby...'

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Simple Rhymes for Simple Minds

So it’s the end of the line, I guess our luck is up
Past the acres that we trod I guess you’ve had enough
I couldn’t bring myself to beg you so I took another puff
And the smoke rose through my fingers along with my beloved

The words came tumbling out as if god himself had spoke
Dragged through with each rise and fall, with each and every blow
You sat there with conviction and with steady steel you said
Yesterday we were lovers, but today our love is dead

Sat fumbling with the tissues, through my gritted teeth
Tore the eyes from the window that masked my bridled grief
Leave no trace I asked, as you turned from white to grey
Yesterday we were lovers, but today you’re just another face

The Judge, Jury and Executioner

The world of reality TV, what to say? There are the contestants, the interviewers, the host and last but never least, the judges. There is always the good, the bad, the fence sitter and the guest. Whilst sifting through the latest Channel 10 had to offer, I must admit, I feel victim to So If You Think You Can Dance. I absolutely adore the show for basically the talent, and also what the judges have to spew up each week. Especially, the person you both love to hate, and hate to be entertained by.
Mary Murphy.

Oh pray to the fake tan gods! A 40 yr old woman in a low cut top, baked better than the best Christmas Pork, glazed by the honey gods, dripping in over the top jewels, teeth as white as your newborns rear end and the ultimate American sensationalist with far too much volume and seemingly not enough brains.

Evidence:










I think pictures speak louder than words here.

THEN we move onto someone I am in no way fond of, mostly because every compliment she hands out, it follows with 'Your Welcome' like it was some sort of fucking gift from the judge panel gods in the sky. Yes, Marcia Hines I am referring to you. You with your heavily muscled arms, broad shoulders, slight lisp and black attitude. You who hands out sweet nothings to unsuspecting, vulnerable young people as though they should accept it with the graciousness that God bestowed on them. And in terms of what she actually contributes to the show, she is like the white lie that drips of everyones lips, sucked up by a giant wave and smashed on all of us viewers, her words are 'nothings' but empty promises and false praise, often leaving you more confused than you started out. Don't worry young potential Idol that you can't sing for shit, in a singing competition, Marcia would praise you for you 'spirit' or 'soul'. It sickens me.

Evidence:




Then, my last bone to pick tonight with reality televisions host/judges. Is that everytime I watch a So If You Think You Can Dance Australia episode, Natalie Basingthaffasdjkfniasdu (??) and the female british judge always, always, always look like they just down a bottle of vodka and a 'dollop' of all things perscription.
Evidence:

Now...I thought about finding evidence (actually did try) but I could not find the action shot that perfectly summed up either of their on air brilliance, maybe you will have to check out the show yourself. But kudos to Nat Bass who has maintained her 'smokin' status throughout.

Enough of this, nobody cares, nobody likes reality TV but my god, there is some pure trash on there that is almost at the core of all things bad taste, and I love it. So check it out if your keen.


Ha...Hahaha...Ha

What. The. Fuck.



Pure Sunday delight. Who knew such things existed to entertain.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

I Live, I Evolve, I Die


"I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger as reason.


I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I cannot transform into something marvelous, I let go.


Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls."


Anais Nin


Bone to Pick - Yes - You

Right, Ninemsn you have finally done it. 'Flock it' section is about to send me into a searing rage, not only for the fact that this week the stories have not change much at all and it bores me, and the following article:

http://news.ninemsn.com.au/world/847121/nz-children-mistook-dead-body-for-croc

Now - I am not one to judge any sort of parenting skills, mostly because my parenting resume lists 'potentially negligent and lacks any real idea of what to do with small humans', and I am definatly the 'fun' aunty that hands assorted nephews back when the tears start to well. BUT THIS, I will highlight in point form.

1. The title alone, 'NZ children mistook dead body for croc'... I have never seen a dead body, am not particularly keen on ever seeing one for that matter, but at what point does a poor womans body take the form of a dead reptilian? Also - well played NineMsn for luring me into another 'flock it' peice.

2. They played with said 'crocodile body' for 11 DAYS!! Not a few hours, not a day or two, not even for the weekend, 11 DAYS!! Where were the parents of this pack of wild kids that decided poking dead crocodiles was fun, for 11 days of adventure???

3. 'It was not until a parent tried to fish the body out on Wednesday that anyone suspected anything'. So, a lovely caring parent, atfer 11 days of frolicking leisurely around the 'Leisure Centre' decided that they should try and FISH THE BODY OUT, and that only at that point was there anything suspect. AND, its in New Zealand which I am pretty sure is not renound for its flourishing population of crocodile, so wouldn't just a dead crocodile/body in a small pond arouse suspicion on its own?

4. ' A neighbour said he saw a pack of about 10 boys poking it with sticks'...I wish I had more neighbours like that, that not only would not stop my children poking a dead body with sticks, but also referring to them as a 'pack'. Concerned parent? I think not.

In summing up, 11 days poking a dead body in a swamp thinking it was a crocodile...Hmm, suggestions for the Government of NZ/Local Area, more activities for kids, more education of WHAT SPECIES YOU ARE FUCKING POKING WITH A STICK FOR A FORTNIGHT!

Peace.

heaven in a cup

















GOOD MORNING to a fabulous Friday in Brisbane. The sun is shining, the weather is clear and blue....
I was thinking of an ultimate Friday night, involving me taking myself on a date in my lounge room. I decided to list a few things that would be essential in wooing my dear self tonight.
Now - if in reality I was making this a REAL date with myself...It would also involve popcorn, witty conversation and a steady supply of various snacks. I would woo me in seconds.












Tuesday, August 4, 2009

The Developement Of Stockholm Syndrome In Lesbian Relationships: A Vague Observation Of Lesbianism

Recently as I wandered through the World Wide Web, I started reading about this wonderful thing known as Stockholm syndrome (mostly because the Muse song is awesome) but also for the fact that is all about how captives become somewhat attached, or defensive of their captors. Now thinking about my life and how I could fit this wonderful mental disease in, I came to think of it as very similar to lesbian relationships/break ups and how this often equates to how a relationship dependency forms.


Now it all started with a bank robbery in Stockholm, after this 5 day ordeal the captives were becoming emotionally attached and defensive of their captors. A criminologist then coined the term in relation to where the event happened how the effects of extreme trauma seemed to sway these victims to be more sympathetic towards their abductors. Now normally this implies to cases where someone has been kidnapped, but in most relationships I know (unsuccessful ones that is – but who’s aren’t these days?) there is always one member of the party that seems to almost ‘abduct’ the others life. Whether it be through isolation from friends and family, demanding of time and or literally taking it a step too far and keeping you in that cupboard at the end of the bed for the summer. It seems to happen to all of us at some stage, yet even in these situations where we know that we are under ‘the thumb’ or even under the influence in any way we become almost strangely defensive of our ‘beloved’. Often finding excuses for their behaviour to justify to yourself why they treat you so badly. I think it is due that after so many months of taking shit in a relationship you are so used to justifying it in your head as to why you are there, that you do half the work for the manipulative bitch/bastard.


It strengthens the bond I think when they give an inch and you take a mile, they may call you fat, make you feel bad, isolate you from friends, stop you from having any sort of fun or even occasionally hit you, but when they give you that little smile, the one that only they give you between punches, it makes it ALL worth it.


I just find it exciting to watch the ostracism of friends who enter ‘partnerships’ and often to see the succubus of a woman slowly dig their claws in till the victim never knew any different and would love to have no personal freedom, opinion and/or choice in their own life. Yet it tends to be the one who is smothered that often comes up with the stunning defence closing statement that both keeps you out, and locks them in even further. Point is: there are some crazy fuckers out there, ones that will keep you under lock and key whether it’s emotionally or physically, but this my friend seems to be the general term I can use for all my friends out there suffering from ‘lesbian Stockholm syndrome’, don’t become the advocator for your own imprisonment!