Are steps on sand all you can help to achieve?
Washed away by the water.
You’re endeavors.
But footprints. Small.
But ultimately-pointless.
Worthwhile only to you,
Your group, your memory.

Scripting people..

-What is happiness to you?
What is happiness.. Ah, having a close circle of family and friends.
The freedom to do what you want in your spare time.
The ability you know to travel if you want to.
yeah, I dunno… To get away from it all.
I suppose waking up in the morning you know and just being ready for the day.
Ummmm – yeah farout.
Good question. But what makes YOU Happy?
Spending time with friends and family.
Even talking to strangers you know, just having a chat.
Yeah…. and just like, seeing the world is a big one. Go to different countries, it really changes your perspective on like, what life is like for everyone else and what life is like for you.
(what’s brought out joy in you)
A pretty funny one, was, my little brother was going overseas to Europe. Everyone else was going and I was staying. My little brother started crying, because I wasn’t going with them on the trip. That was really nice, had a bit of a smile on my face.
Hahah – he was absolutely miserable. That was pretty funny.
I feel like I got a huge weight off my shoulders when I quit my degree. In the first place. I was pretty bloody happy, you know I was just coasting. When you’re doing something you’re not passionate about. I don’t know what that is.
When sports teams lose for example, can be horrible. That can shut me down, and put me in a bad mood for the rest of the night. Can be a bit of a dampener, people can get annoyed at me. Haha.
It was nice to know exactly what I wanted to do really, it was a bit of a relief [with uni].
“Are there different levels of happiness for you?”
Yes I believe there degrees ofcourse. Friends, family you know, girls ofcourse above all else. But then there are the little things. Like Arsenal winning. Travelling is pretty up there as well, trying new things.
“Is that because you can look back on where you’ve come from? I used to see the world like this”
Oh yeah absolutely. Definitely.
-Its interesting for example going to 3rd world countries, where people are so poor and yet so happy still! And its just like, money doesn’t really matter.

-So what are your hobbies and interests?
Ok well i’m uhhh. An avid soccer supporter. I love Aresenal, i’ve loved them since I was a little kid, so I’ve watched their games whenever the season is on. I absolutly love watching movies. I have a harddrive with like 4-500 or something. And i’ve watched pretty much all of them. And pretty much everything on Netflix, and t.v. I really like watching how directors film. I mean I don’t know, but just like cinematography, intrests me. Its interesting because its the only artform that encompasses like every other artform as well. Like you’re using music, writing, its really interesting.
Ummm…
What else do I do? My hobbies… I like gaming, that’s good to pass the time, I definately like a bit of world of warcraft. haha. Ummm yeah its good.
Ummmm a bit of tennis every now and again. I spend a fair bit of time with my little brother. He’s nine years old, I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned that, yeah bizarre. We’re actually really close. And its kinda weird living over here and not seeing him every day. But yeah, he’s an absoulte little legend, smart little kid, good fun too. I just bought him Overwatch, like the video game. And he’s a fucking freak. Like so good at it. And I don’t know like, like if he had a little headsett in, surely not. This kid is like nine. But yeah… Ummm…
I guess programming is a bit of a hobby, i still do that in my spare time, its my last semester. I was working on languages that I wasn’t studing in like any of my subjects. Just doing it to get a little bit better, the ones I think are more important, that will progress my career in the longrun. Yeah.

-So Leon what do you do?
Alright, so I work at a sport shop, Rebel sport at the moment working in footwear. Hitting people with sneakers, selling ’em shoes, which is a bit of fun. Get some good people working there which is good, a lot of banter, shit talking, always enjoyable and makes the shifts go a bit quicker. Except for tonight, i’m working with this guy, all he talks about is his car. Every conversation, he ends up just talking about his car, which is pretty frustrating, but i’ve been learning to cope with that. Ummmm.
i’m a student. Umm doing IT at Deakin. Thoroughly enjoying it. Yeah seeing as I’m really a mature age student, but i’m pretty late to start my degree. So i’m not really there to do the same thing most people are you know. Go to uni, make friends blah-blah-blah. I’m really just there, you know to like… go in there, get my degree, move on start working. But ahh… Play a little bit of soccer every now and then, and ahh- enjoy going out with mates. Yeah. Can’t think of anything else.

-Ok so Leon, what’s your Story?
So far you’re from Croatia, aand you lived there for 3 years.
Yeah so my family moved to Newzealand, we lived there in voderua, which is like a little town surrounded by sulfur gizers, which meant it perpetually smelt like farts. Or rotten eggs. And after we’d sort of… Been there for 3 and a half years dad got a new job down in Tasmnaia, dad got a new job working for Forestry so yeah, we moved down there. We moved to Sandy Bay. Moved to the old Wiamea Heights Primary school, spent about 7 years there which was a bit of fun. Which is where I met the people I’ve been introduced to you through, which is quite nice. Ummm, Hutchins for a semester, I had a really good time in Tassie actually. Uhh- Tassie breeds a real different type of people. A good breed, they’re all real innately nice and friendly. Which is good thing, you don’t get that as much over here in Melbourne I feel. But yeah we moved over here went to highschool here, really enjoyed it, it was like a smaller campus for the first 3 years where there was only 30 people in our year level. It was alright everyone was pretty close knit. Then went to a bigger campus for the final 3 years, there was about 300 kids in our year level. Pretty good. Good school enjoyed it. Yeah after highschool suppose went to uni, didn’t really know what I wanted to do, picked up investment banking thinking you know I’m going to be the shark you know i’m going to make so much money Blahhh- nearly finished the degree and just thought fuck this, look at these people like working 100 hour weeks that is not what I want to be doing. And you get no creativity in a job like that aswell. You’re just there like, crunching numbers that’s it. You don’t get very much freedom. Which wasn’t too appealing to me. Bit of a shame that I found out about it 2 years in- haha.
I dunno, I took 6 months off. I was just thinking hard about what I wanted to do, and what might interest me. Did a bit of programming, thought you know this is pretty cool I enjoy this. And you know been doing that ever since, ummm yeah-
That and the occasional beer. Actually quiet frequent beer actually, but yeah hear I am you know.

Today’s been my second on my road to recovery.
From being flat and out of it, to reading, writing, jogging and thinking.
Its all OK. “Do your best”. Be realistic, push gently on your way uphill and reward any exertion with water from the sparking stream of bullshit that I am preaching right now. Tone change.

Scribble fun.
The thoughts of you and she!
I had a dream
Smile! (increase your face value) -terrible.

Descartes catches a flight from Tunisia to Ireland, the hostess offers him a drink.
He refuses saying “I think not”, and promptly DISAPPEARS, ceasing to exist. harhar.

Fuck me I just re-read the marks I received for my three assignments. Semantics.
Spelling and punctuation points. Three unprepared essays. 67%. I am fuming.
Fucking bitch.
Smile.
Don’t forget to do that thing.
Add new folks to the pile
Forget names; remember to sing.

Look after yourself.
Think best thoughts of others.
Soul-full-felt wealth
We wer’all born to mothers.

We share so much in common.
Its often, not a belief.
Rather we sit all solemn
Until “thil” thytruth prove some relief.

Our hearts contract and fade, cordial.
That we drink-
Boiled and primodrial
Bubbles, trouble us to think.

Scribblefuck.

Kinda buzz that lasts for days.
My headache, front, middle left.
Just a touch off the temple.
I am suffering, must re-hydrate.
Let me write how I want!
Dammit man.
She -> Shi.

Send a message to Kaito.
Declan seems OK.
Message Jed + Jon.
(Why?! these people aren’t in my life, move on and grow, we move in circles anyway)
Plan Christmas & NYE.
Decorate room (failure)
Free store (failure)
Sustainability & Liberty.
Read and read and read and blog. Can you taste more Hot or Cold?

Well what do you know.
Do you reckon that you could do gaming on a treadmill?
Physical output meets concentration of gaming/reading.
Double plugged in.
Doubling. Add magnitude.
Increasing value #value ++
Hash tags # make me think of a double +

Talk of the weather,
From this day forward
banished. Link a vid
you didn’t even fully watch. To skim,
importance reduced. Very little
time to see and do it all
and my subconscious fear toward
my conscious recognition makes me deranged.

So I run to parkdale,
A lady I hail, makes me coffee, stale.
Slik wrapped, hands frail, mindful of the sale.
Happy sunshine met female
Set sail, search, for needle in bale.
Sunken beneath needless pail-
to bail covers riddled with shale
Day’s sun pales, winds wail.
Shutters rail, swelling tunes scale.
As time tells a traditional tale.

And my reminiscent critique of a person:

The beady eyed look of the man, furtive, yet narrow-minded. Eyes of a shrivelled brain. Dark, to represent a current I would not wish to wade. “the one with big tits”. Don’t objectify her, don’t “compliment” her; your vulgarity and sexual inferenceis abrassive and sickening to me. You as a host I can barely tolerate. Carelessly testing, why must I suffer you?
A CRITIQUE!
A waste, you societal trash.
A sickness, devoid of use.
An imbecile! Offensive to all!
Obtuse, moron beyond degrees.
My head turns!
Self centered, curiously shallow.
Abrasive! Destructive! Hollow-headed.
Crayon wielding fool.
Unworthy of name!
Subverting calm. Interpersonal sham-rascal.
Hospitable not, enjoyable naught!
We are fraught with you, BARNACLE.
I question the day you were salted.
Your parents must have been ill.
Plagued, abuse deserving foods.
Dash your dastardly brain.
Sparkless, fungi.
Hair of the moles of witches.
Creation of the jam between toes.
The sheets of your conception turn green,
a sickened scene, that turns and burns.
I divert my gaze.
You are the mistaken salt.
I wish you frailty, torn muscles and wrinkles.
Not even a life I wish you.
Dwell only to be mulch.
Anon you are from this day toilet.
Stain-cum-shit. Beneath simple.
You are a rope around the neck of all things joyous.
I covet a hatred for how you are.
Everything you be.
Have nothing! Squinting braggart.
Alone, Fie.

And in these comfortable clothes I lie.
And enclose myself in my bedroom.
The milk of my thoughts were that of my own lust.
Lusting at the idea of my own death.
A cancer that would spur me into brief action.
Once, twice and a third- truly.
To be given a countdown of time.
Told like Niggle of a specific time to journey.

And so I spent the day in my room.
So, so much to do.
Read and write and read again.
Breakdown, comprehend.

Yesterday eve I found twenty dollars.
Today a ran briefly and bought some goods to make fully my belly.
Wine for the nights of expectant company.
Beer for three were owing, to Law.

Plans and thoughts of travel.
A lethargy of skin and mind.
Exhaustion, flatness.
Limbs flaccid and weak.

The tragedy of King Lear,
The mindlessness, onset within familial bounds.
And torch bearers bring burning-
to bodies piled for pyre.

And peer not.
for your eyes b’gouged.
Felt raged cold grow hot.
in my horizon lounged.

There were other things I wished to speak but my mind fickle and forgetful, lapses.
I cleaned my room.
I bathed.
I showered.
I ran.
Ate, moldy pasta sauce.
Spelling is giving me real grief at the moment.
I’m all out of sorts.
Famished and ravenous

In the unswept crevices of the internet resides this thought.
Sitting in class, on a monday eve. Its halloween and nobody’s quite right. Everyone’s gun is loaded like a highschool shooting. The words, just waiting to be triggered: “what did you come as.”
I came as a dead pen…
I came as my own terrible fear, my attribution to what matters in life and my acknowledgement that nothing is permanent and tattoos are worthless, silly, wasted attempts that speak volumes for and against yourself.
I’m saying that we’re afraid of getting inked.
We’re afraid of being dirty.
A pen leak, shows the spread of germs, taints everything you touch, discolours everything, tactile rub-off disgust. You, the contamination.
I am ink, anywhere I am witnessed, people fear.
“I have destroyed this t-shirt”- i think to myself as i create my own momentary comment-come-art-piece.
Worn, functional yet banal in its stirringly accurate truth.

I got an exam back today, 68% a terrible mark for me.
Mortified, exiled, angry, swollen eyes.
My opinion, ideas, paid for, weighed, marked and scaled. Finally the shame.
The book, the review, the graffiti, the painting, the pen-leak. All fearful, all walls, difficult to avoid and an annoyance to try and comprehend. How, what, why?!

And for me, quite closely, I fear my own standard.
We have to be our harshest critic, because nobody else will. They will support or ignore. I want to be a writer.
The pen is mightier than the sword i’m told, so I didn’t join the army… Instead I write my heart out.
I splodge my internal struggles, wars errupt on the page.
I fear the pen.
I am afraid of ink.
What do i write?
Does it matter, can I put it all down before I run out?
I am afraid of ink… I think we all are, after a fashion.
In a way, its possible- students; surely.
So go on, ask me. “What have you come as”
“What are you”
“How are you dressed”
“Tell me who you are”
I am my own fear of ink.
Spilt. Written. Drawn.
The stain on my skin wil fade.
The blotches on parchment won’t last.
I’m still afraid of death.
I am a stain.
I am a dead pen.
I am my fear leaked upon a perfectly sterile white shirt.
I am society.
I am the colours of disgust.
I am ink.

Giving up the home-ground advantage and travelling south for the weekend to visit Megan started with a long bus trip, some poor oversights and a bit of luck on my part. Getting across the border, talking to customs and immigration at the states was nearly a disaster as I didn’t have an address for where I was staying! eeeee-gads. So be forewarned. You always need to have a place to stay, when you’re border hopping. Cripes man, they made me sweat, made the bus wait for 45 minutes.
I had to force the crocodile tears I learnt how to manipulate in highschool.
Sweaty brow, submissive and thankful tone. It makes me sick to witness people react to me how they do. But diplomacy can’t always reign supreme, sometime you have to look the lamb and but it between your legs. So I got my way, across the border and on my way. Cheers America. “Its no big deal”

Visiting Megan from then on was pretty easy dice.
She picked me up in her car and we drove to hers.
It was her birthday and she was excited, I was happy to be off the bus, exhausted but very pleased to see her. After some traumatic driving and catching up- indeed lighthearted chatter we arrived at her home in Weathersfield. A quaint and quiet little city in “connecty-cut”.
Autumn was well and truly tumbling in. The leaves everywhere, pumpkins, apples and Halloween were in full swing.
Megan and I went straight to bed and recharged to the best of our ability then showered and dolled up for the night.
A family dinner.
I met her step father, mother and flamboyantly energetic younger brother.
The dinner was pleasant, I wore simple black and white clothes, feeling underdressed among to general populace of suburban coots. Megan’s brother shouted, he father was awkward, her mother friendly but looking concerned as she chopped her youngest child’s food.
The place we went was an asian occasion sorta place, some dickhead with an attitude set fire to food in front of us and did a strange to be basically deranged show of cooking our food. Capable of only a few words and talking like the prostitutes of Thailand tourist sex strips “Where you do”, “oh you like it like dat”.
It was jarring to think about as he juggled, squirted liquids across the room and all that jizz. Lady boy weird. But the show was something different, to the point of being unique. It can still be honed, perhaps never made classy or cultured, but new and neat. Its easier to critique than compliment sometimes. Sake was nice.
A tower of onions set on fire and the gargantuan meal were all highlights.

I talked to Meegz Uncle and Aunt, they were nice. Born and raised in the quiet towns and surrounds they were friendly but I sensed a resentment of some kind. Like somehow my airs of adventure, my approach was gauged and ultimately ajar, in reference to my being foreign. My spelling is off this evening. Terrible.

Dinner was wonderous, I was just tired I think. Maybe, who knows.
The meal was the first of many. Lots of eating in the USA. Lots of food, very rich, lots of meat and bread bread bread and frying and fries and fried this and that, enough to make me fat. I forget how fussy I am on the inside and my upbringing that says as a guest you can NEVER be fussy.
I felt awkward.
I was meeting everyone for the first time.
What did I want to do?
What did I have to do.
Homework – that’s all.
But that wasn’t the reason I was there, and somehow I was suffering the overnight hangover for days to come.

A Dr Seuss book I read “oh the places you’ll go” encaptured how I was the feel quite well -visiting waiting places.
As a tourist, I ticked many boxes, ate very well to as to keep my furtive eyes from popping. I was a cow, in a line for much of my time in NewYork city.
But my doe eyes were gleaming, with the abstracted, surreal, pointed visions that manifested themselves before my eyes.
Liberty! Chicago (the show), Empire State, bustle, umbrellas, snacks, sex museums, accents, diners, performers, husslers, the lot.

I found 15 dollars and walked along the brookly bridge and didn’t need to raise my voice in anger at anyone. I was suffering a slight paralysis from venturing so far without the correct recovery, but what can you do- can’t be helped.

I’ve listened to the same song twice now, but its good stuff.
“black, noir, schwartz”.
I’ve also tuned into some random dating website that is the busses internet provider, its friggin strange and works off facebook. So anyone that has travelled like me is here. Gadz man, the internet has memory. lets play “who’s caught a Greyhound”. hhaaha

After NewYork, back to Wethersield.
I ate, chatted, sat quietly and awkwardly slowing and tryingly growing more accustomed to the people in my space as I resided within theirs.
I feel a limited freedom in such situations: imposed by myself, because I’d hate to put anyone out, ask too much, or just come across as too assertive. Here is my stuckness. A disiese of caring and being broken in my considerate nature.

I didn’t know where I stood with Megan and I felt it was hard to care and be cared for by people who I didn’t know. What am I doing here? Should I be here, do these people want me here were roadblocks in my head and dangerous hurdles for the day.

A few quiet relaxing days, homework, planning and sitting were too much for me without the release of exercise. My patience backfired and I ran my mouth which actually proved helpful for getting my feelings understood by myself and my old girlfriend. I made her cry, but only because she didn’t understand me or my concepts fully. Self talk, aggro, anger, sharing-not-bottling. It was hard, and it made me scared and regret sharing. Usually I silently fume and self immolate for the comfort of all others, but not anymore. Talk, even if its nonsense, hurt everyone around you until you are crucified or some kind of reason and sense pours out of your brain that everyone nods to. Like a sponge I rang myself dry.

We picked apples.
Carved pumpkins- tried local delicacies. “S’mores, and Cheezits”.

“let mum know that when I get home that, if you’re up a puzzle, there’s six of you… yeah bye”- the guy in front of me. Someone was in a car crash.
Talking about his other uncle, He died. This guys shares… plain talking, buck toothed. Odd, if you ask me. I should slap him, see what happens. hahah, not really just a thought that I won’t act upon.
Not a want or a need. Just a thought. A nothing.
It only matters if it matters to you.
Does it happen often? Is there an urge? Must you act?
Actions can have huge effects on people. Yes, yes they can

Then we went to Toronto.
We saw a comedy show.
Our host bought the drinks, he had strange eyes.
The house was nice. The next day we went to Niagara falls.
It was beautiful and i’m told its a natural wonder of the world.
Riding a boat near the heavy flow of water was an experience like no other you could achieve without getting fined… Such is the touristy life.
Man overboard, I saw money, but couldn’t get it. As it was over the safety barrier.
I picked yellow flowers and returned home on the bus.

That night I had Pho.
I talked some, with Megan it was nice.
We were tired and wont see eachother for a while, so we walked back and went to bed.

The next day we came home. I will return to Toronto. At the moment, I think I could live there as its a big city with a lot going on.

Now I’m heading home, I will be tactical in the food I eat and try to do a lot of exercise between now and the end of the month.
I’m making plans to visit Juan in Mexico for sunshine and beers like old times.
I’m excited.
I need to do a fair bit of reading and writing this week for university, but all will come in good time.

Champagne and Orange juice is delicious.
Mimosas .

Why do people pull faces
And why do people make shapes.
Others hide away.
For all those pictures.

Fear not the camera.
Paint yourself not.
Dress not.
Think not.
Pay it no mind.
No heed.

I think I’m in a slump.
I believe i’m afraid of myself.
I have said the wrong thing to so many people so many times.
I feel hung up.
My dial tone is a sad set of self talk and anger.
Money isn’t an issue, but my internal tick is to live as cheap as possible.
There are things i’d like to see.
I’d appreciate adventure.
What is this holding back, the silent loathing and loading and pensive struggle.
Am I in a rut as Dr. Seuss suggest?
Stuck in a waiting place. How do I cure myself.
The internet is the cure for a curious mind.
I have so little time.
And much much much to do, such procrastination.
I need a shower.
I’m hungry, yet sick.
Tired, yet itching to move.
Struggling to get out. Out of my mind.
Not mindful.
Not happy, failfull with genuine caring interaction.
Something has set in.
What I need is a ball.

Feeling ungreatful. Stressed anxious.
Doing things I don’t have to, when I should be bringing the joy to the hearts of people around me. I feel full, pampered, pleasured.
When really my decisions, choices, moves, and ideas should be my own.
My letters are scrambled. My ideas. Worthless, thoughless. Gunk, garbled. Its sad for me and anyone that has a string attached. I’ve been crying from lack of sleep.
Balls bleeding, sick and scared.
Food. Bread.
Yes yes yes. say yes to everything. some kind of fermented, internal struggle, dissonance and self-talking punishment of sadness and fear for the future.
What do I want. What should I do.
where should I be.
How can I save up my energy and be devicive.

Holic.
Cat-holic
Alco-holic
Alcohol-ic.
Holic or ic ending?

Band Name:
“Melbourne flaky strut sluts”
Alex on the bass.
Carl pulling the stings.
Declan looking like Grease’s very own.
Needing a plundering haircut, and restyle.
Currently defending himself of a sex case.
What a head case. Basket case. Lawyers.
Chicago “all you need is love”
Just an ordinary day for music and strutting.

Is it funny that an armoured car has valubles in it that aren’t people?
Like, they make a deposit of the goods and then by unhappy chance someone tries to rob them and they’d be like: “Nah nothing of value here, just people”.

New York
Yew Nork

Megan Jones 24th october 2016 11:51
You guys.
Your guys.
Your guyses.
“GUISES”?
Plurality gone horribly horribly wrong.

Eendraght Maakt Magt – In union there is strength.

24th october 2016 10:40
Dream.

Message dad, tell him that I saw spock.

Chicaco-
Pizza night.
Gloves on. Say nothing
Remember nothing.
Angrier, red faced. Sore toed.
Pascal; tell me you remember it.
It is it. “iti”
Toilet trip.
Pizza exhaustion.
Sex.

But at some stage I turned.
It all went wrong.
Horrible- I do recall.
I fed you, the wrong. Meat of some kind.
My mind wanted to shut down.
I didn’t think.
Couldn’t function.
I felt ill.
Oppressed.
Tired. Wasted.
Cornered. Suffocated.
I wanted to run free and explore.
Tired in mind but with a body that was ready to move.
This allegiance disturbed I hated you and everyone.

Movies:
Rainbow connection.
Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Moulin Rouge.

Limousine- yes yes, the big long stretch of things to do.
Oh my how it unravells.
How much danger could I possibly be in?

After you blow out candles, you should make a wish and keep the candles until the with comes true.

Food MILES.
Australia and the metric system.

1984.

All those double message notes. How strange.

“What do you think of Americans”
-what am I supposed to say.

You guys waffle on.
You talk too much, you’re materialistic.
you’re like Australians.
We have a lot of problems.
You enjoy the good life.
Things aren’t sustainable at the moment.
Its still the morning.
I’m not the best, and you have a very serious face.
You work too hard, you’re under a lot of stress.
Do you want me to congratulate you? Can I lend to your repose.
Solidify and nod. To agree with how you life your life?
I don’t fucking know. It’d day 5.
Customs was horrible, that was the first American in America speaking and his sarcastic tone and horrible mannerisms typified a lot of people’s feelings.
If you want my advice you guys could certainly check yourselves, and be more conscious of the people that you set as your ambassadors.
I’d go into politics, but I know nothing but what I hear other people say.
I’ve never seen Donald Trump put a foot wrong, but nobody seems to like him, what he says says he will do. That’s politics. My mind isn’t up to that sort of cycle of self destructive, mindless, underfunctioning, lie-schemed backwardness.

Ah yes, the waft of incense.
I must still be tired and dehydrated.

Synecdoche- a small part representing the whole.

Exam in 45 minutes. Chewing gum, I might go over my notes now just to get me jazzing.

I think it would be funny to print out pictures of yourself at a famous location doing something (anything). Wild, mundane, wuth a group or somewhere else- drinking tea, at the pool… And stapling it to the handrail at the lookout. That would be funny.

Jake got a nosebleed last night. Poor guy.

Pumpkin seeds aren’t bad when roasted.
My Canadian adventure continues! Today I downloaded an online game, to play with my housemate. I’m currently caught in two minds about going to the pool and buying some chocolate and visiting the pool. I’d like to swim some laps at 7.30 and spend 30 minutes in the steam room.
So there I was eating dinner, a hearty vegetable soup with some toasted bread that I made and the pumpkin seeds that I roasted, courtesy of the Halloween spirit. I added some salted sunflower seeds and used capsicum as a spoon. The taste had vim and agreed with my mood, needs and wants. I ate half the bowl, as well as all the rest-afore mentioned. Too much perhaps. I hadn’t eaten a lot that day, courtesy of study and the gym and my adventure to a new cafe – actually I had a biscuit at the cafe so maybe i’m ok. Yeah… spot on. Good. What a lovely ginger biscuit it was. A woman sat next to me and watched me read. It was strange.
I juggled the soccer ball, it was a good form day. That’s for sure.
I wonder what Megan’s younger brother’s favourite colour is.
And what would be a nice gift for her parents- a bottle of wine perhaps.
Some kind of thankyou. New York will be my opportunity no doubt.
I should get an early night tonight to prepare for the worst tomorrow, with the bus trip and excitement of reading week just 48 hours away.
Yes yes indeed. I’ve been saving myself up recently, reading has been thoroughly engaging. I have lots of people to reply to on facebook, which is no big deal. I should more properly pack my bags I think. But that can wait just a few more minutes.
Hmmm, perhaps Law will come with me to the shops. To buy chocolate.
I wonder what he’s laughing at on the computer.
I’m now smiling in reaction to his chuckling. Strange, the many faces of people. So much depth and change, its fascinating. He was a bit down last night. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or me taking some of his cheese without asking.
Or perhaps the conversation about tattoos, where I ended up laughing at the lack of their importance, their unltimately shallow relevance to anyone. Like the writing on a T-Shirt, but more and less. Because you can’t take it off. Its an attempt at permanence. Its meaning may evolve. Its unique, sure. It hurts to have, it embelishes who you are and is supposed to have profound revelatory meaning. So deep, but I would say that its just as impermanent and important as any other thing. And like you, in death its meaning is the first to be forgotten, brushed aside, shrivel and decompose into nothing; as such tatts are meaningless and only scratch the surface of all things important. Their relevance and ability to include you is just as much seen as exclusive. Its a lifelong commitment, more fixed than a family or pet. Its a commitment to yourself, a grounding aspect that marks a milestone in your life of when you thought and felt a specific way. A reminder, because the mind is fickle, and forgets things. Just as the whole body is fickle in its gradual decline breeding disillusion with dissolution and death. Alas.
But all is not lost, I don’t think he was sad because of that, the man hardly spoke in the lead up to such a monologue by me. He was quiet before. He doesn’t even have tattoos “you don’t understand” (you aren’t part of the club they say). Exclusive with me. Let me tell you.

Well, the download is complete.
My stomach feels clawed at-
Too much to eat.
And not I feel fat.