Don’t micromanage me young man. Was the last thing she said as she left. He sat there smugly. Sated from all the events that had lead up to the convergence and the moments just passed.

Genevieve and Sharmi drove their small blue fiat along the coast into town. Passing the fish and chip shops, hotels and the university. Stopping at the first set of lights, Gen put on the radio to Jazz. A proper English accent purred the next track title and they were off again.
“More marching band music?” Sharm questioned.
“Why not”.

The drove for five and then five more minutes, to find a parking space.

Genevieve had a sore throat from the night before and wondered what the best solution would be. She’d been seeing a guy for a week. Her love life was no frills and had its ups and down. Shar and her shared a flat down in the south east, along the coast for a little bit, where it was mostly quiet unless they invited over guest.

Sha suggested that they get some soothers or icecream. But Geneviev only shook her head and winced like a frog swallows. They were catching a cruise and had to park in long-term. The trip had been mostly paid for by work, they worked for themselves. Genevie pulled out her phone and wrote a quick text on a whim then slung her handbag over her shoulder.

The two of them walked up the uncomfortable ramp – its gradient lending itself towards the steeper climbs of its berth. Sh silently mused over the kill count of such a gangway while Genevi removed her camera lens deftly and took a photo of the water and the land, then the cruise ship with the sun in the background. They made a queer couple as the strolled abroad, but you could tell. It was an air. Maybe in their gait, jawline or posture. Both with shoulders pulled back, very clean hair. Edges where edges should be. Round only at the scarves and straps.

The book that Genev read that night was of little interest, she usually followed the tales with the fifty pages rule because
“life my darling is too short”.
“How do you know?”

S had a meeting with one of the patrons aboard and in the cabin across that night. It went well, she talked to them and set up a price for their service. They wanted a little bit more, like everyone seems to, but for a little bit less. Gene had echoed this for the years they’d known each other. It wasn’t OK there was a fee for everything, even international waters.

“Why did I get a book on pirates?” Gen moaned.
“Yes, indeed”
Why not Titanic or Peter Pan. She thought of her business and how nothing lasts. Ge sighed and pulled out her camera. The faux-wedding photography that she’d done for some friends snapped into sharp focus. She was removed, always, but this distance was her own tailored aesthetic. Numb to the wanton of others. Her lips were dry but years of lipstick wearing made her resist the urge.

Wondering if there were any animals aboard. G squeamishly turned off her camera and hugged herself. The radar blipped, once in the captains quarters. Technology had come a long way, but the green circle remained. Like space invaders, like pac-man or pokemon it was a refferential to something that unless you were there, looking, it was just a blip. And then it was gone.

The two women. Both of them, were gone.

The confusion regarding the Brontosaurus, provides a lighhearted jab at the Sciences for their inability to provide resolute and current answers for current problems. Timeliness of information relating to extinction is seriously brought under the microscope.

Where mistakes that have been slow in being rectified, so to does this undermine true knowledge when speaking of en-mass belief systems. This ignorance inherent to the general populace creates falsehoods, blind panic and crisis that are lacking the backbone that establishes a well reasoned science of perfection. Its here that many of the hopes of mankind substantiates logical claims. While the text suggests that science can be mistaken, nowhere is it said in 10:04 that the increasing Co2 and H2O levels are something that humanity can deny, or be absent from. These repercussions as instances of justice for the manipulations and mistreatment of the world promote the need for ecocriticism, to promote and highlight the ideas and information exchange that pertains to human being and the natural world.

Here society functions as a hive, reacting to forces beyond its control with rammifications and that lead to suffering for the maxed out credit with mother nature. The stakes that ecocriticism is most concerned with are higher than just a “strong six-figure sum”. For the city, its chaos in the boutique shopping aisles. Prices rise as the social climate reacts to external forces, this means a revaluing of resources and points to the structures of society bursting at its seams. This titanic groaning, can be likened to the instance that befell the Titanic. Its bow grating and moaning against a dislodged fragments of nature, that brings the excesses of man’s grandeur to a shuddering and deathly standstill.

Sacked trams actions jammed, heating inner wiring melting hands too hot to touch. And it all goes out the window, or it would if you could open it. Only the strength of bathe. Fearing tomorrow today, the next day. Riding you bicycle. Shaped like a razor into a car- shaped like a Buller. And all the promises you made to everyone else. The silence; well it all comes crumbling down in a wall of noise. Fear strikes in failure. Figures finality. Friends and family oppose the want of rested auto-mental-destruction. My bicycle revisits the paths many trod. Tried and true, I swerve in the hope- of making it to tomorrow.

‘Man is not man-in-history, or man-as-savage, but man’ Bronk.

Parallels exist between the poetics and philosophical notion of nature’s preeminence to the human being. William Bronk’s “midsummer” exists as a parable to go beyond the reminiscence over nature. Organic reductionist human thought in its consideration is suggested to reposition the importance of the reader and more broadly the human’s centrality to earth’s purpose. Seeing the natural environment as a means in itself rather than resource is a philosophical notion touched upon by the pastoral-esque philosopher Heidegger. His musings over human instruments creation corresponds to our detriment. Critiquing industrial modernity from his removed position in civilisation, to that of the hardship of pastoral life, reminiscent of the philosopher Epicurus he questions – “making a world of disposable stuff” and highlights the problematic viewpoint of Man as ‘lord and shepherd’ over Earth. through Heidegger’s Ecophilosophy Art and poetry are to play a role in what he calls ‘saving the earth’. Seeing Art as this “death denying project of world mastery” allows us to frame The Romantic’s movement as a response to the Industrial Revolution to have shaped the construction

Of nature. Furthermore this return of the pastoral into the human psyche has made for a revision of what is important to be noted in nature.

May Day May Day!
The end of troubles, I saw an ex yesterday. We walked we talked.
I stared into here eyes. She reads to many romantic novels. That’s OK I said.
Her boyfriends doesn’t give her enough. That’s OK I said.

The french don’t always capitalise their je. That’s something I had to think about.
More terrorism during Ramadan, that’s something I need to think about.
Homework and ethical dilemmas and ecocrititcism, that’s something I need to think about. References. Writing thoughts. Logocentrism.

I need to re-write those words given to me by that girl that I went for a walk with.
She’s so smart, I’m so shallow.
Poetry poetry.
Jules. Jewels.

I thought I was the-
only one, to freely speak
of dates and vomit.

Perfume Lady Millien

Coded words: Chill, tired, sleep, netflix, come in for tea.

IDEA FOR CANNIBAL CRUISE – 26th May, 2017, 21.40
But…
Less than 1% of my thoughts hatch.
Less than 1 thought leaves the nest.
Less than 1 flies
None die of old age.

BORDERLANDS-

And the girl next to me said:
“Why are the girls so shit”Irish accent?

Curry as event!
SQUIDGE! Nickname for Linds
Cardamom the stimulant
Humans as birds.
Arms and legs and feathers and pests.

SPACED – the show

9th Piano at the Con. 1pm.

There are no cheap versions of baby food,
why is there no “Home Brand”?

The pictures on frozen meals–
Lasagne
Dogs breakfast, aliens placenta.

“The man gives his penis to the woman”

Your mouth has got to be looking like your hand when you wave… [6th of May, 16:30]
Mortal danger, the land of unrest! 5th of May 21:56

Catherine: Hair Girl
Nina. Names at 9.18pm 21st of April.

What did the accountant file sunscreen under?
“SUN-DRIES”

Silent but vaguely positive.

Original word. Thoughts. Wants. here we go:

adjectives: next, past
verbs: freeze, bump, scraping, replace,
nouns: sequence, shape, eon

WEach poem addresses itself
not on
merges dialectics and lyric:
weakest force,
i as “central”

egocenterless, narra-language and assumptions of that object
begin at an inner difficulty.
But questions form, structures in kind
Thus imagination. What can we know, what can be known?
the roll of words-
off tongues deep in epistemology!
Thinking about the world changes the world. Awareness breeds a paradoxóit makes the fullness of the world dissolve. The moment we imagine something is known it slithers away. We exist (but where). We imagine we exist. Consciousness is forced to grapple with the problem of the present tense. Memory is comfort. And yet the difference I detect in the sounds of cars and trucks going by on their way to the harbor, which a moment ago occupied my attention, means nothing to me now. Bronk replaces memory with thinking. Only the edges of events have meaning. Yet the substratum is constant: desire, love. We understand what we see in how we
ick. To think-
Give anyone stick?
Desertion
This concern of born desire is central to deconstruction,
metaphysics?
poetry?
philosophy? never afray
courts and hems- dance.
Do not.
More than,
our tests for him
His poetry is a truth:
Separated ideas of every unless
they-are-all-linked
cause of yours
threatens to
leave us without final words
your splendid collapse-
styles collides!without creating argument.
think simultaneous crux!
Going to come before and after–
Infer if you dare, I broke it, Broken off,
Lay still love.
No I remains. Not mine,
not a pursuit of cent nor belief.
A halting rhetoric bought with severity
toward going on after the end.
Yet we do not want to phone
Return to the beginning of the role.
Roll, call:
there was a civil thing, when we arrived there was a tree
too parted, slips and flips backwards.
Done and outspoken. Grasp ladders where there are no separations between rungs
Phonetic language represents ideas and that which embodies sound images. refuses to gratify thirst and imagery these are my sensibilities.
Yellow fog eats my hand’s poem. hardly abstractions. More abash, unwashed and abrasive auctions of sentience spots.
Blowing holes in the fog, cyclone hive. Outside of chest cavity in the engulfing mark of missed breath and asthma.
Nothing remains unknown, nothing is known. Each moment is the destroyer of All places are one Here and there are nowhere and not opposites a world with such elsewhere; certainty it the how of how.
Can it serve as arresting measure for fluxed discourse
and an awakening of old urgency, life may localise reflections
unknown, halved then halved again.

Porridge, pasta, potatoes, pepper, peppermint.
Q tomorrow.
QQ

Mixed meats. Migoreng. Milk. Milo.

By not writing one story, I show the rich and winding world clammed between pages.

The weekend was long, I lost poker. 2 pair. Ace Queen. Lost to pocket 6’s, 3-of-a-kind. My magic 8-ball lied to me. But that’s ok. I drank a 6-pack of beer, played articulation, then I played chess. I lost. my king to his king and 3 pawns. I could have played for a stale mate I believe. 25 moves is it?

I turned in later. I had a chat with the guy Harry. He’s a funny guy. Reminds me of Tom Port. Super okka. Ozzy identity. Plays up to it. Chatty. Gift of the gab. Recycling loadstone ideas of social classicism. Aware, interpollating, pollution of social realness. Acting. Jargoning, jester, flippant, bar-loweriing, self destructive. Safe. Chipper, chatter. OK.

A cold day, just need to go for a run to get going. I need to hold it down for two more weeks. I think I can do it. I might head to uni now.
Extinction narrative in 10:04 makes sense, or something that is allegorical with white privilege, dominant culture and hierachy of stemming from skin colour and the representation of art and cultural value.
Wait staff (the help). Helpers vs autonomy.

And then I slept on the couch. And I dreamed. I thought of Jon as my footballing coach. He was down and depressed. Miserable, I was angry. I thought about how mad he made me feel, I chased after him, running up a hill, chicken wire on the ground. We held eachother over a precipice. I said “this is worthy, two brothers, pitted against one another, this is real! I will forever be trying to get you back for this betrayal” – I rememeber thinking. We both held on to a wooden stake with one hand.

I was told that a girl has MS. We are all confused. Me especially by the symptoms. To make light of such a thing, is my way when indeed I do not know what i’m missing. Difficulty walking, blurred vision, muscle weakness, fatigue and changes in memory.

Its the worrying state of the world. I don’t know what it all means. Not one bit. But the extinction narrative drives me on. Driving, fast, burning up, neck choking, hot and heavy breath. My brow sweats. The streets go un-swept. Rain washed debris from one main to another out and into the greater ocean bowells. We have lost control. Refuse, refuses to receed. Errosion and regret eat at us like the cycle of the mood. We are refugees by night, dead to the world. By day we play at power games and the cynics roll dice and pray for better fortunes. At the bottom of every hill there is respite from the nausea. This boy in a rubber tire has turned himself inside out, lost control and most of all his love, his caring for others that make him human.

I followed, I chased my brother and I reacted. Only in the presence of others may we be judged. Alone we are isolated, inert. Safe, anti-sexualized. No responses, or serial for this race. Just me. No “I”. Alone and unresponsive. “You have plenty of time”. I’m sorry world. I’m so sorry.

“This Pen is so dry”Zia smarts, she passed me by- Three of hearts.

Have you ever had a crush? Bright eyes? Let me ask let me ask. And in the following lines of inquiry bask. Questions, power play. Play out. Comfort, normal structures under which we crush. 

Queerness of necessary identity. 

Her nose doesn’t constitute champagne drinking. – ABABY!

We all have, within us Capabilities of greatness. (May 20th. 12:59)

Terrorism as “anti-culture”. 

Boundaries of young people, scars and fear growing up. 

Alphabetised aisles at the supermarket.

Dora: An analysis of a case of Hysteria. Sigmund Freud…The Marriage Plot: Jeffery Eugenides… The order of things : Foucault.

So much work to be done. So little memory, my disabled mind. Not free to sit and do and chat. We try to sit around and talk to women with men but it crumbles with interest and faceted faces. Invitations excitement and remedy. Tense, untrusting. Blind people with seas-sickness. Housing. Babies. Marriage. Work. Tuna. Girlfriends(Naiomo). Work. People. Accomplished, travelling, languages, old friends, new, hospitality and so forth. Travel. Cairns. Work. Distance. Pot plants, reclamation, chairs, study, soccer, tea, queerness.

How do you spell the letter H? 4player drinking game. Roulette.. Black cards add from 1ace to King 13. Red are minus (picture cards are give 1 drink, or skip) if the following card is higher by one or less by one you need to drink the total. Drink amount. The 3rd is included by the highest card. If It’s black they drink the difference. If it’s red they give the difference.