Defining terms:

Oscillating
Secular
Pathos
Eros
Logos
Deus ex machina
Truncated

“Do you want to be rich?”

Christ, I had more than this but the internet dropped out and the page reset.
Impermancence strike again.

Do peoples tattoo sleeves look all that different?
No, no I don’t think soo.

And I don’t think your smoking is you in conversation with yourself.
It’s just an accepted way for your to loiter and stare.
To be a voyer.
You should be avoided.
I’m going to run on that thought.
This playlist is so so so sos good.
I’m stuck on so at the moment.
My heart beats, desires, wants and needs.
My thoughts and honesties sputter with rapture and my head is holed.
Hollered, and hated and hacked, humbled and holy, hinging, harmfully, hapless, hogging, hidder, hearted, hagrid.
Put your curls down, with your umbrella, UMBREAL. Umbridge.
Umbral. Cumbarl. Late to the pub again, where I go, I dare not.
For I am not a kiss and tell, your french company, your trials.
Let me disconnect. Stare, think deeply. Fixedly. I’m despondant.
Reactive I am not.
What do I want, let me think think think. Like pooh.
Bah! The poobah, dance, djs, boogie, inform, wish and be filled with nostalgia.
Let me do as I please. Figure that, let me tell you a story, pick away and open up.
Gods.
So thin. How do you do that. Sleep and evaporate.
Become something more, or less and lazier than what I am, what I could be, what I want to be. Let me resent you.
Hate you and your ability. That friendly face, smiling flash talking trash outside my window bullshit.
The window to your soul, which is barren and typecast, shallow and overdone. Makes me ill with reflection and childhoods mystery which is not uncovered to be nothing.
Like a bogus excavation of the truth I find you’re just some dead animal, with autonomy and action. This living death. A shallow grave of exploration, enjoyment, and uncontrolled reactions. You are the product. And people can attribute worth for the fun of it. You are as mysterious as any other function. Bah.
Aye me, there is tragedy there. But the comedy of it all doesn’t allude, illude, miss or confuse me. My great hole. Wholesome mouth, belly laughter rattles and shakes me from my middle to my squishing eyes.

Sexy. Swing. Talking song . Son. Lady, girl, friend. Lets get close, swim in the sheets. Let me bite you. Hear you squeel. Such tenous, tenors and sweet melody. Captivated. Sheets like capes. Ribbons of silk, hands tear and scratch at sheet and skin. Red lustful, raw, and raucus screems. Control lost, emotions swim, heads swoon and eyes roll. Rise and fall. Lips dry, breathing gasps, wretched, spine jutting, grease running as moans of harmony transgress AND permeate from within. The body, the room, the house, and beyond. Their power immutable, fixed and joyful. Bliss.

Mind,
my mind is full.
Full of it.
whatever it is.
You are full of it too.
We all are. Look at all the double letters in English.

“you are what you eat” – for mindfulness.
This months tactful idea is to take a photo of every meal.
My sister is becoming a personal trainer.
She’s a very motivated individual.
Its fun to test ourselves with things like this.
DOING.
Enertaining. A good day.
I used the heading to get more hit.
mindfullness.
Fullness.
The french don’t like using the word full.
They say its too graphic. *I think.
I was told that once. I’ve fleshed the thought out more, in my mind.
now i’m saying it. Which makes it a belief. Not true.
Just.
JUST. something. I said. Once. I can change, we all can.
I hope you’re not mad.

The top selling books last year were all “Colouring-In books”
-For mindfulness.
Ah Mindful. Not mindfull. Mine field.
Ness.
Nessy.
Messy, fantastic, magical, strange, imagined, made up, pre-historic boogey man of an idea.

Gadzooks.

“Original thinker”- I got that today from a teacher.
I should be modest. It was an ordinary thought, that probably wasn’t mine.
4 step process.
Got rid of the 2nd step.
Timing is everything.
Specialisation.
Job satisfaction.
Hub-ub. Quality control.
Efficiency. Madhouse.
Wild experiments. Large groups of people.
See how they all act. Who know’s what they’re doing.
“we need people to colour in”.
-No NO NOOOOOOOOOOO.
Don’t take me from what i’m doing.
Coaxing.

COAXXING. COMMING. -ING WORDS, and the consonant double up. confuses me sometimes.

Exams are like semi-finals.
Not the big time. Not quite the perfect idea of “game day”.
But if you’ve done the work to get there, you want to perform.
This is all temporal.
Mid time. In between. Grey scale.
Not real. Unreal. Irreal. Misreal. Dereal. Quasireal. Stopreal. Parreal.

Assignments call.
I have to do a catchup blog for the other day.
The internet went down, lost my god-damn work.
Shocking.

Jake is moving in as soon as this week.
I wonder where he’s from. Dear me. Another body. Looks like i’ll be sharing shelf space. Shucks.

“let anyone among you without sin be the first to throw a stone”

Picasso : Missing letters. E,F,G,I,M,N

I remember being young and in class, grade 3/4 and finding out if I dropped a pencil the lead inside would crack, not having my pen license I would sharpen my pencil, and then while writing if the tip fell out it would be entirely a disaster. Colouring pencils the same. And they roll, and fall of the desk and i’d fear. It would encompass me- consuming my perspective – my being. Fear. Loathsome. Fated. Hatred of chance and wonder. My concentration shot, I was to blame. Shame of the self at such a young age. Fuming.

Print out tickets.

Roxanne- Philosophy.

Prank: Print out A4 sheets that say “wet paint” and put them on everything.

Imagine if your eyelids glowed in the dark.

Insult: inslit: sinslit: insult: “white cunt”

“What i’ve done doesn’t matter until the majority crushes me…”

The seating at the bar looks like advanced solitaire. No rules.

**
Hello my darling. I have taken my time to reply because each letter for you is the heart. I love you also with my head and soul. I feel you, I stress and think of you often. Each day can be a plague if I let my mind wander. You’re far away, and we are free. My life for liberation has never been so watered. Down by want and emotion. You occupy a space in my being that is unique and wonderful. For that I will always live and love for. Hope upon hope: pipe dream come wonderment, be free and be in love and love me as your own for I will ever be. xoxo

I know you’ve spent your night slimming- let’s sit down (angry).
Lets get sweaty.

And the girl said to the guy: “wear tartan, you’ll be in for free”.

My lady queens leaves.

The printing press is slow today.
It’s white-work we wait and pray.

Metis: North American Half-breed.

And that’s when it happened: at the history museum.
He was an attractive looking man, I stared confidently myself.
And that’s when it happened.
“Have you ever seen the whites of someone’s eyes”

Ed.

Living in a fantasy land.
Augmented yet real
he who leads you by the hand
pleasure’s pain we feel.

Bring us to the fore
Enlightened darkness
Push open the door
Get on the ark-miss.

PROVERB:
‘As the old sing, the young pipe’
-Children take after adults.

“Be my mug of wine”
-I am this drink.

Layers and levels to today’s tragic beginning and its coming close to the end.
“If you say so” – after thought “if you say so”

Watered down wine won’t fix this spell.
Food wont cure this cut,
nor a bath this bruise.
Cold.
I am elevated.
Scraped, clumsily my foot on the stairs.
The bumbling rumble of our hero the professor.
Talking, talking, so much talking.
Head down, face to face, in reassurance and thankyou very muches.

I don’t like this model that we have in place.
I think that the Fido account, the idea of your PAYG system is trash.
What do people actually want.
They want to pay 20 dollars, get a few texts, and a bit of data just in case they are stuck. Hell! Throw in a free call

*CLACK* Fruit flys.
Stunned. Smoted… nah, smeared on the table.
Water and wine.
Fire and brimstone!
“she’s back” Yes yes, that girl we queerly labelled Bianca is back.
The joke of her death falls flatly.
Like so much of this day has for me.

Sport, walking, eating toward nothing.
Sunshine. Indulged like I were a black mark.
Soaking it up, growing hot headed. Under the collar.
Fumes. Fumes from cars, take care. FLAPS.
Bus flaps. bips bizzare.

If she kills you, how are you supposed to get better?
I ask you a question, you answer incorrectly assuming i’ve asked something else.
Which is nice, because that means that SHOULD have been the question that I asked.
Right? Maybe…
So then I let it fall. It bugs me, like a fruit fly. My eyelids clap, for wanton lack of a slapping hand. “did you even fucking listen?” Sorry, did I stutter? Is the fabric between us somehow smudging my content? My smile is a broken down-turned smear of exhaustion with the day, which you have so easily been folded into.
God, put foil on my mind. Let me put on a mask.
Jesus! Ch-Christ. There’s so much to do, thanks for being their Placebo and Coldplay.
Run over by a cyclist.
*shoulda woulda coulda” tends to run through my mind.
Thankfully i’d cast testosterone from my day-plan. I smiled, like Justin Langer when he’d been hit.
And the pasta hits. My stomach again, filling like so. Terrible.
My neck slackens. No bear in its cave to process, reject or use.
Store, as you will.
Go to the store if you please.
Yes yes, the material obsession that is supermarkets.

A huge bottle of Coke has been lumped onto the table.
Law won’t be sleeping tonight is my bet. Straight from the bottle.
This is bad folks, this is turmoil, self destruction, energy, ecstasy of flavours and… My, how jarring would it be to have long hair and cut it all off.
What a change.

I feel like people are making themselves more real in this life of theirs.
Finding out about themselves. I think I want change. I want to see what i’m capable of. Change change change change.
He talked of that settled moment. Disgusting people arm in arm walking past him.
And he laughed, laughed himself sick.
He’s a fiction, so take it with salt. Yes yes yes.
I hear chipmunks and squirrels fighting.
Burp. Knocking. Slopping.

My ankle bled.
I went back to bed.
poor choice of shoes.
No aid or help to muse.
Help i’d welcome refuse.

Aye me what a state.
I got home, then out again.
And was run over ‘sif by fate.
What we my next refrain.
Smiling, moving on-in pain.

So to vent, took me in.
Angry thoughts flew about.
Thinking thoughts of sin.
Thin voice’s screaming shout.
Then on, with stoutful pout.

Home after softly spoken plans.
Saw a friend from the other night.
Found out how it stands.
Then broke away from her sight.
Wondering day’s change might.

But not to be was how.
And I wish and hope and why.
But wonder not human cow.
For this day is your sty.
And more to come, me oh my!

To bath. Rest, read, think.
Dinner time soon I thought.
Out I left. Pruney and pink.
Think I did, as food I sought.
New groceries, plus leftover bought.

And glass!
Fucking glass.
my tooth, my tooth.
And anger flashed in my face.
My minds eye! WHY?!
And my hands were mace.
Hate and concerned flashed.
I wanted nothing more than to dash-
damned it everything.
Spit and spit and spit into bin.
Wash mouth.
These little things.
Mundace conversations and repitition and seeming nowhere progression.
My failed attribution.
Stomach in a knot. And a head full of blood.
Naught else. Pull the handles off tea cups and upturn candles.
This hole in the ground, accommodation.
My basic needs aren’t met. The wheel turns and the ideas blur.
It must. Must must must have been a bad nights sleep.
You can see it on me.
Smell it. The reek. And this music is not so sweet.
Anne-Lise. Thankyou for your music.
You’ve saved me again.
I roll one six for the day.
And cure the sickness.

I talked to some of my family members yesterday.
My sister and my father. It’s dad’s birthday, and my sister is always lovely to talk to.

To dad, the discussion talked of nazis, birthdays, poetry, travelling and receipts.
With my sister it was a few things. School and exercise and plans for the future and how important it is to spend your time wisely.

We spoke of how the body adapts to strain and stress and exercise. Your outputs over time grow.

I explained to her that muscles are like the humps of camels and that they store energy. When you exercise your body actually steals energy from the universe. Its a great theory she said.

I asked her how she was; she said “great thanks”.
She asked me how I was, I said “yeah, great thanks” – what was funny was in my mind I was still bouncing around her reply. So when I returned her question with the same, I had her voice playing in my ear. It was a funny moment that I related back to her, she laughed.

And finally we spoke of taking over the world. “100 days, to take over the world”, for that is what happens when you stop exercising. You have a surplus of energy.
You do all these wonderful exciting, energized things, and then you get fat.
But you had the opportunity to take over the world.
I’m outpost Canada, Lindsay in Australia, Dad in Japan, Brother in Europe.
We just need to send mum to Africa and we’ll have done it all.

Houses are important, as a base.

Singing songs yesterday that include the word chosen by someone in the group.
Harder than it sounds. Maybe If I did more karaoke.

I have a mass of energy today.
Productive procrastination.
Ahhh the sugar in the tea. That’s what did it.
Useless brain, chose words that don’t rhyme.
The last sip of tea is what pushed me over the edgy, energy to excess.
Alas.

Blah blah blah. I went OK in my exam today. I had hoped to get a few different poems. But I got nothing. It was a bit of a disaster. Not to worry.
Exam on philosophy’s logic (arguments) will be later tonight at 7pm.

I bet i’ll have worn myself out by then. Shucks.
My eyes are not fully awake.
My day has begun. This is how you get die-a-bit-ey-zzz.
Diabetes. Yes good, spelling good.

I swear its everyone’s birthday at the moment. We’re 10 months in. That January month when ever parent was getting busy. Naturally! Good on em.
But that means I need to write a lot a lot of messages to do myself justice.
JUSTICA.
Maybe not. Weird.
and the girl next door. Named? Weird.
So strange. Ugh I feel full of energy, my mouth is sweet and sour.
I shaved my beard.
I need to be more productive. Surely. Ok study. I will study.

Pipe dream, what did I come on here for? I think I had something to say.
Yesterday I went for a hike.
Oh I should upload those photos and buy a sim card.
Yes yes yes, I should do that. Hmmmm, that’ll happen.
Tomorrow, yes. Number, sim, yes.
What else.
The park, the hike. Alcohol the night before.
Edward went to hospital to get his appendix out.
Timing is terrible! Shucks.
Poor guy.
I went out, got chuggin crazy. Danced with some folks. Met some girls, danced; got air, went back in, danced. So many bodies. So sweaty. Not feeling chatty, just observing people. Standing in a corner, crooked up against the wall, my perch.
I was studying people’s dress. Their fashion. I was a creep I suppose. Silent, watching. Gross politics. Maybe I was getting some fresh fucking air.
I wasn’t staring or gazing or gesticulating or prying or demanding or putting anything on anyone. I stood, recovering, breathing, finding composure. Resting and thinking to myself in a public venue. Alone. And there was nobody at fault.

I jumped over a bike that night. it was ordinary. Some other guy tried to, and he failed. Failed bad. It was so simple, yet… when drinking some people make themselves the example of difficult. The define themselves and their misalignment with mind and body. Trash is as trash does and they were trashed and did a trashy job. Screaming irish banality. Funny and useless. Fall fall fall away. I will suggest, observe and smile. Laughing eyes for the world’s meet and great.
Feet feet feet- happy birthday Eden. From head to toe.
I mean little but say much. This was my intention I think.

I’ll jog afterwards. Yes yes, I’ll do that. Then lunch – eggs probably. Followed by intense cramming. Jolly good. What a splendid afternoon.

Children and the decision.
You cannot live forever-
only pass on your genes.
Xo. Think a little.

Is it narcissism,
experience or mindless
and misguided continuum
Hopeful, weird, uselessness.

Rife with strife.
Wife the knife.
Dagger before me.
Aye, that’s she.

Run and run and run and run and run.
Stuck, friendless with the illness.
Sickness. Out of sorts.
Close to tears, lonely without motivation.
Strange, jarred. Directionless.

I have a growth.
I have a blister.
A swelling of illness.
“The sickness”
The killer inside me –
acting. Upon my mind heart and soul.

I was asleep.
I need present.
I need this gift.
I stand in a field like a cow.
All cud.
Chewing, doe eyes.
Soft gentle, single minded.
But for direction.
Control.
Give me delusion.
Allude, allume.
Illuminate. Exterminate.

Ughhhhhhh let me run now.
Let me go.
Mindless body and soul.
If I am but an energy transfer let me steal what there is.
I will take and take and take.

All-ways. Missing.
I am so missing.

This is my moment abroad.
Swollen feelings of sadness.
Memories of people, scars all brought up in a dredge of painful emotions.
Reminders. Rocks, baggage and burden that didn’t fit or fall through the sieve.

Why do I forget breakfast but not these wounds.
All have built me.
Made me.
Great… I am made.
happy holidays, you bastarts.

We are the apex predator
This marks the end of the world
Ned said to Jed, my editor.
How has this come unfurled.

Like this!
Quite like this.
If we could all just take a day.
One day off to try and play.

Here comes the dread.
Mark it well I said.
Times have changed,
Our progressions derranged.
Those wishes upstaged.
World’s critical age.

I feel there is something going horrible wrong.
This is why kids pull bongs.
They worry, and give meaning to none.
Sandwiched between confusion and chaos for a bun.

Primary school,
the marvel of kids.
Honestly’s fool.
And now we’re on skids.

But no time to break-
or rest up. Even a little.
These lost souls shake,
with dribble and spittle.

My foreign acquaintance.
A pleasure to meet.
Borders boundary, the offence and fence.
Protection marks isolation, grovel my feet.

Keep on walking I say.
Run, bare foot through the streets.
Walk off your troubles.
Smile if you can muster, nice kinds of meats.

Frightened bleats.
Desolation greets.
Cereal treats.
Worrying Keats.
And all because of rising heats.

And the going gets harder,
the hurdles higher.
Basement and larder.
Go up in the fire.

Until our bellies.
Like our souls.
Are finally empty.
And the food that works to numb the pain,
our painkiller for most of all things.
is in its last refrain.
And we fall from our olympic rings.

Making our way,
plodding to the gallows-
the end is what follows.
Thankyou for this brief stay.

Time to go.
Thinking of tomorrow.

-Is food a painkiller?
Is starving oneself by choice closely associated to pain?
“Sometimes food”.

Today I bought mars bars for the trip to the park this weekend.
I really ran out of steam this afternoon.
Lots of jogging – leading me to flatline.