GTA.
Gotta run.
I got to
I’ve got to.
I’ve got two.

Runny Noses! Why do we get the. When its windy?
We don’t.
Its when its cold.
Why, then?
I don’t know.
Well you should, you’re at uni…
Studying to be a drip.

“Don’t judge a book by its Paratext”

Dropping bombs tonight.
Kiss me.
Like its the last time.
Reign yourself in.
Rain bombs.
Drop kisses on me like you did those french girls.

I am an arts student.
I have interests.
Tall people.
Short people.
Stoops.
Women.
Power.
Money.
Struggles. Games.
Experience.

How dare I think I see what is real.

Croan. Crane. Cryin’. Crown.

You aren’t being a bad person. You’re just telling them how it is.
As an only child, you probably are selfish.

So it was just you. You, mum and dad.
You were the base, your father the walls and your mother filled this vessel with love. Filled it half full I hope.

Mother’s Day is the same in the USA.

What is Crohn’s Disease? I hope my friend’s mum is ok.
I mean, I know what it is vaguely. But the specifics I’m hazy at best.

Tall people, careersy! Success. Attraction. Sex.
Look out over a room of people. Desirable. Visionary.
Powerful. Sexy. “tall, dark and handsome”
What does tallness represent culturally?
What else do people associate with tallness?

Why is there short man’s syndrome and not all man syndrome?
Stoop no longer.

I struggled with writing capital ‘G’.

Families as a three (3) person structure.
Two parents and an only child.
A triangle. No strong.

Four; a square or rectangle. Asking for death or division.

Five is a home. Base, walls and a roof.

Plane cream cheese. Plain.

The soul!
Sociology, Psychology.
Its not a perfect science.
It lacks values sometimes.
Monetary.
Fiscal.
Physical.
Countable.
Permeable.
Incorporeal! Ethereal even.

“People look strange”.
Those dogs look more normal than that woman.

I suppose so. But you have one pupil larger than the other and terrible scratchy auto immune diseased skin on your scalp.
I think I look weird.
I hate your leggings.
They are attention seeking, ugly, colourful, tragic, fashionless,
tasteless, impossible to accessorise with or match.
I’ve seen you without anything on.
I don’t care.
Naked is normal.
Anything else serves to be a detriment.

I am a Hypocrite.
A Hypocrite.
I’ve lived to see myself.
I look weird.
Self harm, hate, shout, scream,
grind teeth, haggard breaths, tired eyes,
puffy face, sweat soaked, struggling,
weak fisted, unresting, lost, angry, fearful,
incapable, turning, unseeing, fitful, pulsing,
sighing, insane, boring, tactless, primitive,
wordless, listless, fighting, pragmatic,
foiled, scared, living, forgetful, breathing,
drooling, raging, poor, questioning, Hypocrite.
And I’ll live long enough to deny it all and become something else, while still being all of this and so much more until I become nothing again.

The way people act in groups.
Having women for company.
Men for company.
The buck’s night effect.
The party effect
The hen’s night effect.
Expectations.
Evil intentions.
Backward views.
Uncomfort.
Strangers.
One on one – friend turned enemy.

Measuring things.
Like love.

Two lines over everything.
What I see.
And what you see.
What is truly real.
It’s there!
And what is viewed.
Parallel.

How different from your parents are you?

Quinoa!
Expensive rice.

A trampoline in the middle of the ocean!

When do I find out if I got a scholarship approval?

Your ideas and models are sand,
scattered on a beach.

Your way in which you loosely explain information,
to assert control. Its flawed. Like you.

Thinking of a great app that links to google maps; that maps your spending.
Everything is attached to a postcode/true location. With each bank transaction it pins the map. Then between that spending and the next there is a line.
The line could be green, and would change a shade along the colour spectrum, or colour wheel with small increments.
So you start off green. You spend some cash. “Ping!” -Green dot.
Then the line travels to your next spend. The line tells you the time, date, and location and the colour changes by a small amount. “Ping (slightly lighter/darker green line & dot). This continues for a year’s worth of spending.
Its interesting.
This was sparked by the idea of a paper trail. Just how traceable are my movements.

On the proviso that I spend every night at my house.
What would the graph THEN look like, with the detour from spend to my house, onto the next spend.
The size of the dot could change with the size of the spend.
The colour of the line could change for the distance travelled or gradually throughout the time period.

So many different ways to map, tally and graph your spendings.
“The worm”.
Multi colours.
Representing ever increasing spending over a month on a certain good/service.
Monthly red blips for rent. Pulsing like a heart.
Regular weekly payments in yellow, making you feel sick and dead inside.
That night out, the electric, shocking spend. Jolting you to life, but ultimately a fizz-bang.
Investments. Miscellaneous. Colour changes. Debt. Savings.
Indeed.

Wouldn’t it be great to be able to design those programs?
Yes, that would be great.

We make plans to kiss the sun at night
Hopeless dreamers, hopeless times
Shedding skin, you show your beauty scars
Don’t forget me or who you are

God dammit legs.
Sore. Wild, baked brain. Lost.
Rich in bank but not in soul.
This creature under a microscope already feels the pull.
Stretch. I am free not though. I should be able to hold it down.

Finished work at 11.30.
Had muesli.
Rode bike.
Talked to centrelink.
Rode to Coles.
Lady talked to me. I pretended to not speak english.
Ate 3 bananas, a pear, and some nuts.
Should be ok until 5 – dinner.
Hmmm, perhaps not. This it a tough call. I should put my feet up.
I feel obligated to write this.
wasted uninspired.
*puts book away*

I don’t know. Let me bounce some thoughts off you.
I’m experiencing a weird headspace at the moment. Overtired I think.
Megan pesters me. Wants and needs me.
I feel irate. Irrational. Uncomfortable.
Annoyed sometime. I think I sound hungry. Don’t I. Hahhaah

Too many text messages. Nothing exciting.
Just blah-blah-blah.

Yeah I must be hungry.
She wants me to go with her to Hawaii on my way to Canada.
Dad said he’d go half and half with me for my flight.
I’m sure he’d do that for me. Hawaii is cheap as well.
But the slow death. The PLAN, with Megan. The test, to stay together.
I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all.
Not one bit.
Nope bad idea. I should fly to Vancouver.
Organise myself. School, language, new, alone.
soul and sole.
Sole of my feet. On grass. Earth. Back on solid ground.
Plans, actions.
Do.
Stars, the distance between us and them.
Doing, doing, doing, doing, doing, doing.
Tonight? I’m drinking alcohol? Why?
“Because I’m doing”
Not residing.
Not wasting time. Not thinking. Not stopping.
Challenging. going somewhere.
The sad thing(s). If you ask me where i’m going its the space between the stars and your eyes.
If you don’t look up you don’t see.
If you don’t perceive, you don’t know.
Without first seeing the stars, how you could possibly guess at my journey?
What i’m doing? I’m energy.
I am a beam. I am action. I am doing. I am going.
But nothing, not so strong. Radiant, energised as to be a star.
If I tried, i’d probably have an aneurysm.
What a strange spelling.

“the brain, a god detector”

It was so busy, there’s chocolate on the bell!
I sold the bell!
I thought it was a chocolate éclair!
The jokes never cease.
The energy comes off me in waves.
Sometimes I find myself in a passive stretch.
Stagnant, Welling around the sides.
A nook. A niche. The water spins and settles.
I thought I was the lake. I was late in realising I was the stone.
Being pushed alone, slowly smoothing, moulding.
But this river, it will dry up.
And when it does, I will be there.
The weapon.
Perfectly smooth, honed, waiting for a dinosaur to eat me or a child to throw me.
I will outlast the stream.

What is this music?

Marimba meets dragon ball-z?
Shash.

It’s mums birthday.
I managed to make her cry over breakfast.
Looking back on what I wrote. I don’t think it was that personal or worthy.
56. The old duck. What a great birthday. What a gift, to have your family members rouse themselves and share a moment with you. Quality.

Mum is Di.
Dad is Jed.
JEDI. “May the fourth be with you”. I always thought that link was cute.

My friend Madeleine wrote a short story; here is a line from it that I really liked: “A woman’s pain, mother’s exhaustion, the cost of loving.”

Paul Kelly – Shakespeare’s sonnets. Seven & A Song.
Leunig cartoons + some photos.
Movies, series galore, chocolate, and socks.

All you need is cigarettes and money. What a terrible line.
Such destructive worthless pursuits.
Isn’t it strange that we aren’t taught about these things?
Their worth.
School isn’t where we learn the most about life.
We need to get that sort of education elsewhere.

When the eagles (how many syllables in Eagle)-
when they save the day. They are deeming the actions of man to be worthy.
To have value. To be worthwhile. Isn’t that nice.

Mitch is in town.
Naturally he’d like to catch up.
Humm, if I get this assignment done today I’m free Thursday+Friday.
Something to nut out. Better get into gear.

Work
6.30-11.30 5
6.30-11.30 5
8.30-12.30 4
8.00-12.30 4.5

You can.
I don’t let you.
You were born with it.
Share not with me.
I don’t need to know.
Please darling.
Stop this.
Craze.
Can’t you see.
That you’re well and truly free.
No need for exchange.
I don’t need your information.
This constant stream.
You don’t have to ask permission.
Why are you angry?
How can you be scared!
Fearful, anxious or angry at my ways.
I am me, I do as I please.
I govern myself as best I can.
Setting expectations.
Writing lists.
Achieving things.
Doing as I see fit.
My mum’s birthday tomorrow.
I think I’ll put energy into that.
Yes I will. Nobody can stop me.
Great. Done.

Today has been a long long day.
Work at 6.30. Uni at 11.
Home, jogging, feeling strong. Tomorrow I will awake early and get straight to it.

Happy 56th mumma bear!
Jolly good show.
Now study. Assignment to do.
Then rewards.
Yes. Excellent.
A grand plan.

“she will always be in my mind Maid”.
When you’re too lazy to ask someone to spell their name.
So many people at work. So much to learn.
So little time. Tomorrow, another big one.
Gotta get mum a gift.
And Ambrose a gift.
And scholarships.
And the address of the Canadian Embassy in Sydney.
And talk to the Arts department.
I’ll be ok. I’ll manage.

Today I spent my afternoon with Eden.
It was lovely.
I should be able to manage this week.
Lots to do, but I will manage.
Three assignments. I will be on point. Don’t you worry.
Organised. Hypocrite.
Order. Chaos. Comfort.
Comfort the sin.
Calling my cousin, telling him I’ll be late.
The idea that I have run out of drive.
To stop and say “I am happy with who I am now, I will not continue to grow, I must improve” Something like that.
High walls.
Hurdles for women to jump through.
Expectations. A loaded gun.
My exhaustion today.
Ravenous!

The comfort of the house.
The metaphor of the attic and the basement.
High minded fears.
And Low minded fears.
A window in the attic. During the day, fears may be shed light upon, investigated, cleaned out, controlled, recognised, polished, changed.
Below ground, too deep. No natural light. Blind, in so far that you can only see as much as the candle light allows. Electricity-less.
Scared. Deep well of fear and darkness. The cellar.

The mood of a house.
The comfort of corners in a home.
Back to the wall, eyes taking in your 90 degree angle.
Safe.
Rolling between the side of the bed. Cold on your back. Hard to breathe. Safe.
Sandwiched between pillows. Snug. Pack idea. A set of spoons, neatly fitted, warm and together.
Liberty, freedom. The difference between comfort and safety and solitary confinement. “I just need time alone”. The CHOICE.

IN YOUR ROOM.
Alone, safe.
Warm.
Go to your womb.
Disgussed.
Dis-in-grossing.
Distopia.

I would like to take this moment to be an agent for change.
Isn’t it strange, I could invite over all my friends for dinner on Tuesday.
I then spend all of Tuesday cooking, cleaning, being all fussy.
Someone is late. The conversation is forced. People leave early.
Fears and expectations come to the fore. There is letdown, animosity, anger, fear, disparagement, no encouragement, no truth, enjoyment, honesty in my eyes.
I haven’t had time. Time to think and re-fill my own glass.
I IMAGINED such a PERFECT event.
And in ACTION, it could never be so.
My fear of every day life, is this crack from my own well wishing mind that ebbs into reality and makes me worried and sad. 10 minutes before everyone arrives. The dread begins to sink in. “What if its not as I imagined, how could it be”.

Its a canny skill.
Judging these things.
Or is it uncanny.
What’s the difference?

“who feels really good after a shit?”
I asked this because I’ve been slowly coming to understand and experience just how much digestion plays a part in my general mood.
So I ask. Right?

Its a bit toilet/humour(y). But I think its valid. I ask it seriously.
It also makes me thing of two really good friends of mine from the past.
Seth and Trav. I don’t see either of them so much any more.
Trav lives in Melboure, works a desk job and is halfway married to a lovely lady.
She doesn’t talk much, or laugh at my jokes. You can keep her mate. (what a horrible thing to impose) Shame on me.
Seth is studying in Europe.
They both talked about being effected by coffee and how good it was going to the toilet in the morning. Strange. They were both very skinny.
I’m a different body shape to those cats. Butt, recently I know where they’re coming from. And they weren’t just talking out their asses.
So I asked some other friends.
One said he liked going to the toilet. Regardless of it being 1 or 2.
He just liked the rest and respite.
“time in lieu” I said.
Classic.

We lost the train of thought sadly. So we’ll never know how the other feel.
unless I ask them and get back to this.
Today I worked.

The cafe Harbour Lights. Its busy. Hunched over the machine; wrecking shots.
No purge (which is grim). But the wands are good. I just need to hone in on finding a perfect shot. And not cooking so much milk and it’ll be happy days.
See how the pay is. See if I can balance my Work/School/Life.

Live, learn, love. Pray my friend. Be happy. You choose to get out of bed remember. So it is most important for me to say as I always say.

“You make the bed you sleep in”

SUGAR MAN.

Do they make you happy?
Are you rewarded? With your two jobs.
The time you spend doing those things.
Is it worth it?
Do you value time spent at work?
Maybe.
I need new black clothes.
I need a new pair of black shoes.
It will be cold and raining soon.
I need a waterproof bag.
A towel. The right shoes.
Clothes. All that washing.
The stress. What are the perks?
Who are the people?
And you’re just smashing out coffee.
Working at the bottle shop?
People. Love the people.
And wine. Wine-not.
That’s the spirit.
Beers and cheers.

My heartbeat was 52 beats per minute.
97/50 was my blood pressure. 2nd of April. 15:05. 2016.

Advertisement:
Ma-mite. (MARMITE)
*but*
Pa-will. (VEGEMITE)

The judging seagull. Wanting your food. Cursing you.
Not “you”
Me. Me and everyone. Because I feel others have felt how I feel.
Its confusing and annoying and a bad habit, the way that I sometimes talk like that. Bad bad bad.
The judging seagull- don’t worry, I’ll outlive that seagull, life, is memory is history, is all that matters.

SURPRISE. 01:32. 24March. 2016
“are you mad at me?”
“I wish I could be”

Belief, willpower & leadership

I don’t know either.
I don’t neither.
I don’t kn’either

Names of bartenders at “Shambles” Brewery/Pub
Jack. Anne-Marie

List:

Donate Blood.
Get a blood test
Find table tennis bats and balls
Look up marathon dates.
Look up uni games

“Personify A any soluble exchange.”

When the most nutritious diet is lacking.
“I WANT to hide, make easy”

“Because I always selfishly wondered how she fared.”

“Jet-styah” – Gesture.
Boddle – bottle
Warda – water
waddaya – what are you
d’morro – tomorrow
twenny – twenty

“Knock Knock”
Who’s there?
“TO…”
To who?
“TO WHOM”.

The disruption of a thoughtful rejection of music. (I drop my glass).
March 20, 00:56. 2016

Pitter-PAT-err…

Kooded-abuurra
Giant cooked snake egg.

Scott Carrier – Rebel Yell

The most approachable girl in the room.
-Am I the only one?
(For now) *I think to myself*
“Yes…”
-Pray, yes. That is all I wished for.

Steam punk.
I looked up.
Thought about it
Saw elephants.
And drew it.
Get me?
March 19th. 1:14. 2016

IRRECOMMUNICATEABLE
BECAUSE OF THE E RULE.
*looke at the ‘e’ on the end of cat. Wild, crazy me-e-e-e!
March 18th. 23:48. 2016. (I did accents that night: Italian love)

Apply for jobs. Blacche boring notes.
Drop off resume’s at bookstores. March 15th. 23:03. 2016

Write Alex’s Character.
Write Lindsay’s Character.

I feel like the people I know are either out looking for ‘the one’ to get married, or on a slalom to suicide.

Young Sung. – asian guy – french class.

I forget if i’ve written this already. I think I’ll write it again and delete it now. Heh.

HB. “STRUTH”.

Decription.
Struth; olive skin, globes for eyes and dark features. She lay. Crumpled, the black slip dress she wore covered he slim frame to the middle of her thighs. Her curves shone, swimming in the silk of her fabric. Hair, tucked to one side, behind her ear on one side, mouth pressed into a smile on a pleased and pretty face. Proportions. Proportions. Proportions. She lay. Perfect. One shoulder, exposed. You know. Modest, a glaring pristine and her paler skin revealed. To stare was to feel need.
She. Thought. Of. Nothing. She lay. Content. Personality-less-ness, was my and her, own destruction.

B – P
P – Pee
B – Bee
P – P-huh
B – Bu-ee

“My brilliant career” 3rd of March. 2016. 12:02
The smoking generation spurs from the uncomfortable silence.

English: Reading Journal. Romance… Thriller! Fantasy?

FASHION:
Wear all black. Dye your hair blonde.
Be thin. Have blue eyes.
A black shawl. Skinny jeans. Boots.
Airy. Tall. Wide, round eyes.
Thin lips. Simple, silver+black earrings.
Wavy hair. Car waiting to whisk you away.
Into the good-night.
Ciao.

Mindfulness. What’s the point?
Shouldn’t you be ahead of that? Beyond that already?
Aren’t you severely mindful in your breakaway teenage years? Look what happened then.

I suggest that you try to attain the daily goal of a child at play.
Lost in whatever it is you are doing. It should be what you want.
Despair, thoughtfulness is time spent in distraction, the past or the future.
Focus is a high minded, nourished mind.
Reflections are important.
As is foresight.
But for the most part you will be the reflection of your child at play.
Try not to burn yourself out.
You know what a wave looks like. Ebb and flow.
Wind on sand, on clouds on desserts, up hill struggles, falling down, sinking.
Dips, troughs. Down down down. Toward death. Don’t despair, put on a brave face. Suppress, hide valiantly, forget, be at peace, enjoy the downward journey, the good of day to day is more enjoyable that way. Smile at the ease of your descent. In your old age you may embrace a different philosophy. Cope how you wish. I hope your eyes sparkle like they do now. Bright eyed. A switched on brain. “lit up”. We all know what that means, vaguely.
Bright eyes, bright mind. Sharp. Perhaps not, case studies are needed.
Maybe its just plumage. Nice feathers. So unique. Love me.

Where do we store love?
Is love real?
Like a LSD, can you have a love flashback?
Where is your love?
In your spine? Brain? Fat? Muscles?
The love muscle.
Organ. L’organ. Male, female.
Tubes and pipes.
Pipes, pins, rigs, cans, gun.
Core. Do you love me to your core?

If faced with a choice of dying, or not dying what would you choose?
It would be hard to choose because your life is in your hands.
Flight principle. Gunned down.
Fight principle. Impossible.
You aren’t thinking clearly.
You walk, you nod, say little. You don’t die.
Others die.
What did they do to deserve that?
Don’t think about it. Don’t poke holes.
Put your pencil away.
Be you the child, the child at play.