Saturday, December 26, 2009
At The Bottom Of Everything
How can I do this?? I can I make it happen, how can I make it go away? Its so much harder when you try your best and still can't achieve the slightest bit of peace. Berlin Berlin Berlin, at the bottom of everything, home is everywhere you are and I can't get away from that.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Straight to Hell Boy
So I am still here, and you are still there. I am in the same place. Same place, the same god damn place. Imagine if you were nowhere, nowhere I could see you at least.
Berlin Baby
Morning Morning Morning, another cold Cardiff morning. Sleeping bag in tow, we will pack today, to set off for another blistering cold hideaway far away from anywhere you can find me. Last night I dreamt again, again of a world where things that people say, are done. Where things make sense to me. Even in the Monet haziness of that world, things make more sense. Sometimes I think that my greatest sacrifice is my greatest weakness, but only to me. To others its probably a strength, to me its the Achilles heel that prevents me from leaving it all behind.
I will believe in anything, that last shreds of a person I will grab onto and still make them into something worth giving a damn over. Maybe that's where I keep fucking up.
But morning morning morning. The frost covers the cars and the pathway and slick with potential broken hips and backs. Each step is concentration and each tiny slip your heart races with the fright, and the pleasure.
Berlin baby, here we come.
I will believe in anything, that last shreds of a person I will grab onto and still make them into something worth giving a damn over. Maybe that's where I keep fucking up.
But morning morning morning. The frost covers the cars and the pathway and slick with potential broken hips and backs. Each step is concentration and each tiny slip your heart races with the fright, and the pleasure.
Berlin baby, here we come.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Naive
BBC Live Lounge Covers... A good world to be in.
The benefit of an imagination, I can be in any world I choose to be.
The benefit of an imagination, I can be in any world I choose to be.
How Far is Far Enough
So, the other side of the world is still not escaping? How could I be living at home? How could I be back there when everything that passes my eyes is foreign and the only thing I have to make myself at home is to remind myself of home? You have no idea. Or maybe I had no idea. I thought that being here would put me out of reach. Maybe being out of a reach is a decision I haven't yet decided to make? Maybe I like it better this way?
Why do you think I am a slave to the situation? I could not be further away, you could not be further away. I will make the choice, to remove you, to miss you, even when I don't need too. I do not need to prove myself, I have done that over and over again. You will be sorely missed but at some point, the realisation must kick in, that I, chose this. I choose not to leave you behind. That is where I make the difference, the distinction between slavery and freedom.
I think we are superstars.
Why do you think I am a slave to the situation? I could not be further away, you could not be further away. I will make the choice, to remove you, to miss you, even when I don't need too. I do not need to prove myself, I have done that over and over again. You will be sorely missed but at some point, the realisation must kick in, that I, chose this. I choose not to leave you behind. That is where I make the difference, the distinction between slavery and freedom.
I think we are superstars.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The Difference In the Shades
Its funny being in a country that seems so steeped in history and culture, yet when it comes to the little things, the things that actually count, they are found wanting and lacking. When I first arrived in this great land there are many things that I have noticed which differ, often for the worst, in Englands favour, now...we begin.
Bins: One thing that is taken for granted, something that you always miss when you cant find one, but when its there, its used. Cigarettes, chewing gum paper, even the slightest hint of litter can find a home in a carefully selected space back in Aus. But no, over here a bin is as rare as a smile in this bitter cold and all litter is haphazardly thrown to the ground to be collected by the multitude of rain which never stops falling.
Food: The era of convinience has entered this land. Isles and isles of packaged food, ready meals and meals that require no thought, effort, or conscious decision about what you are actually putting in your mouth and cloaking it as a 'meal'. There is every style of food, every style of 'family' dinner, anything imaginal can be placed into a package and sold as a meal. Somehow completely convinient but on the flip side, completely complacent as a culture that seems riddled with overweight adults and pregnant youths.
Wheely Bins: Now to extend my 'bin section, this one really got me. We arrived bleary eyed but excited, only to drive through miles and miles of houses stacked next to each other, and each with a bright green bag of all there packaged goods thrown out on the sidewalk. Being slightly coastal, the issue here is as bag with seagulls, and crows at home. You leave rubbish out one night, the next morning its scattered across the road like new years party confetti. Yet, only 2 weeks ago was this problem address and solved. Wheely bins have been introduced, now the problem is people actually using them.
Please and Thanks You: Its cold outside but the people are colder. This is a land where courtesy and manners seemed to be bred from, then bred out, amongst the rubbish. There is little to no courtesy here, or manners for that fact. Things are loved and hated and do not be sad if your life stops having meaning when you work at the Cashier at Tesco, and 2000 people bought their packaged meals without so much as any acknowledgement or thank you. Gives new meaning to meaningless jobs, AND as a cashier, you dont even pack the bags, the customer does. You are simply just and beep and scan.
Alcohol: Is in every shop, every Spar, every corner store and every servo. There is more pubs in this city than there are shops. That is if you are careful about the price, you can get quite the cheap booze.
Many more things can be outlined in detail, scrawled over, then scrapped for others. The key to this blog was how different the little things can differ from a place called home, Without even being picky. Something so advanced, hundred/thousands of years old, yet they can't managed a bin here or there, or even a please and thank you. Then again, if you thought Australia was in the midst of a recession, think again. This country has half a foot in the grave, and the people and getting in to try and actually push the giant foot out, yet as usual, the weight of that giant foot is burying the people with it. No wonder no-one cares about bins when you have to pay not only to own a television, but to watch it, each home needs a tv licence just to have a television. They pay rates to the council as council tax, even if you are renting. The waiting lists for doctors outweigh the wait lines at Tesco, and yet here I am complaining about bins, The irony.
Ah I forgot, add teen pregnancy to that list, and I have summarised the UK. There are more young mothers here than an Australian abortion clinic.
Bins: One thing that is taken for granted, something that you always miss when you cant find one, but when its there, its used. Cigarettes, chewing gum paper, even the slightest hint of litter can find a home in a carefully selected space back in Aus. But no, over here a bin is as rare as a smile in this bitter cold and all litter is haphazardly thrown to the ground to be collected by the multitude of rain which never stops falling.
Food: The era of convinience has entered this land. Isles and isles of packaged food, ready meals and meals that require no thought, effort, or conscious decision about what you are actually putting in your mouth and cloaking it as a 'meal'. There is every style of food, every style of 'family' dinner, anything imaginal can be placed into a package and sold as a meal. Somehow completely convinient but on the flip side, completely complacent as a culture that seems riddled with overweight adults and pregnant youths.
Wheely Bins: Now to extend my 'bin section, this one really got me. We arrived bleary eyed but excited, only to drive through miles and miles of houses stacked next to each other, and each with a bright green bag of all there packaged goods thrown out on the sidewalk. Being slightly coastal, the issue here is as bag with seagulls, and crows at home. You leave rubbish out one night, the next morning its scattered across the road like new years party confetti. Yet, only 2 weeks ago was this problem address and solved. Wheely bins have been introduced, now the problem is people actually using them.
Please and Thanks You: Its cold outside but the people are colder. This is a land where courtesy and manners seemed to be bred from, then bred out, amongst the rubbish. There is little to no courtesy here, or manners for that fact. Things are loved and hated and do not be sad if your life stops having meaning when you work at the Cashier at Tesco, and 2000 people bought their packaged meals without so much as any acknowledgement or thank you. Gives new meaning to meaningless jobs, AND as a cashier, you dont even pack the bags, the customer does. You are simply just and beep and scan.
Alcohol: Is in every shop, every Spar, every corner store and every servo. There is more pubs in this city than there are shops. That is if you are careful about the price, you can get quite the cheap booze.
Many more things can be outlined in detail, scrawled over, then scrapped for others. The key to this blog was how different the little things can differ from a place called home, Without even being picky. Something so advanced, hundred/thousands of years old, yet they can't managed a bin here or there, or even a please and thank you. Then again, if you thought Australia was in the midst of a recession, think again. This country has half a foot in the grave, and the people and getting in to try and actually push the giant foot out, yet as usual, the weight of that giant foot is burying the people with it. No wonder no-one cares about bins when you have to pay not only to own a television, but to watch it, each home needs a tv licence just to have a television. They pay rates to the council as council tax, even if you are renting. The waiting lists for doctors outweigh the wait lines at Tesco, and yet here I am complaining about bins, The irony.
Ah I forgot, add teen pregnancy to that list, and I have summarised the UK. There are more young mothers here than an Australian abortion clinic.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Surprise!
Again should I be surprised? Please tell me the distance I need to be away from something for it not to follow me. I don't even know where I am but yet you can find me? Is there an answer? I should not be surprised for having these thoughts early on. I am so disappointed in my lack of ability to follow my own instincts.
But, now what to do? I am not here, I am not there, and you are not anywhere to be seen. I feel like the cat in the hat needs to come take this fiction for a stroll. Then at least my life might be a funny riddle rather than a ridiculous joke.
Sigh, maybe being so pessimistic is not the right way to be. Yet every time I get optimistic I fall. So how about me move to the left, jiggle alittle out of focus and live in my own world? Hopefully only there you cant find me.
But, now what to do? I am not here, I am not there, and you are not anywhere to be seen. I feel like the cat in the hat needs to come take this fiction for a stroll. Then at least my life might be a funny riddle rather than a ridiculous joke.
Sigh, maybe being so pessimistic is not the right way to be. Yet every time I get optimistic I fall. So how about me move to the left, jiggle alittle out of focus and live in my own world? Hopefully only there you cant find me.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
silly.
So here I am, alone and tired
walked the last 300 hundred miles
I stumbled across to hardened tar
a pack of ciggies dont get you far
smoke and smoke the end away
smoke for all the plays you played
smoke for all the times you had
smoke for just being bad.
walked the last 300 hundred miles
I stumbled across to hardened tar
a pack of ciggies dont get you far
smoke and smoke the end away
smoke for all the plays you played
smoke for all the times you had
smoke for just being bad.
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