Rain tomorrow, all this delux weather.
Snuffed.
I wonder.
Leaves rained down from the trees.
Rain, hail, snow, sleet and ice.
Then sprouted green from ground to eaves,
Back again the sun, smiles, fun, wine and cheese.

Love yourself.
Self love.
Not a bad idea. But there is a line.
Something to look into. “when she said are you listening to me”
I think often about how I can be a dreamer.
How I can block others out. Be caught in my own thoughts.
Other people don’t like that. Don’t envy that. Not surprising really.

Anyway. Self love.
Orgasms. Self. Understanding.
Finding out about your body.
Treating yourself.
Food. Fun. Friends. Fucking.
Not being afraid, to experience new things.
Allowing yourself to relax.
To switch off.
To tout your one life, beneath the covers or sitting back in a chair.
Recline. Relax. relax. relax really. Real.
Unfocus your mind.
Chill. Be spontaneous.
Listen closely.
Read closely.
Focus now. Look at the book shelf. All those novels you haven’t read.
Grab a few, put them next to your bed. And go about all the other things you should be doing. haha.
Procrastinate away. Ofcourse. Don’t read. Heaven forbid you educate yourself.
Strange.
Games games games we play.
Wealthy people. Skilled and otherwise.
Strong and weak.
Experienced and wasted.

Think about all the evenings.
Drunk here, drunk there. Not too wasted;
just distracted. One night, so many venues.
Guided by the stars.
I start. Remembering little.
remind me. Revoke me.
Love me. Stroke me.

Game of thrones is out.
The title is a reference to x-files.
I have many things to do.
I fear meeting up with my girlfriend today.
I don’t want to talk about how she’s be horrible.
How I feel about love.
And how I don’t feel like i’m in love with her.
How I’m only looking to have a good time.
It will be easiest to apologise.
Hopefully it doesn’t just sit between us.
All I want to do is sit in a hot room and sweat this afternoon.
Reward myself with a relaxing time.
Tomorrow I have an easy class of OB.
I’ve written my draft, I am on top of things there.
English, less so. Its a difficult area.
I need to do some reading and writing.
Economics, here and there.
My general understanding is weak.
I need to perform a little more.
Go back to basics.
Revise the first two chapeters maybe.
I have a test next week.

I’ve applied for a job, but Robbie still hasn’t got back to me.
I will apply for scholarships. That will something to look into on Thursday/Friday.

I wonder what it’s like to be an actor.
To draw on emotions.
Food.
I need to jog.
Pushups, situps.
Rest. Relax. Have coffee. Be the best version of myself.
Puffy faced. Tired. Outgoing. Drugged up.
Chitter chatter.
Tete-a-tete.
Test positive.
Good test.
Bad test.
Failed test.
Not as hot today as I expected.
Moment’s blank. Weather.
Weather weather weather.

Clouds! Aasha, said that sometimes the smattering of clouds resembles the receded effects of the water on sand. Water on sand.
The wind on sand.
Wind on sand and wind on clouds.
High up. High high high.
Way up.
Clouds, water, evaporated.
From where? Which source?
Pure? Is evaporation a purifying mechanism?
What happens to chemicals like chlorine? or an acid?
Dirt? Muddy water? Salt water? Fresh water?
How do they evaporate?
How are they effected by the wind? How far are they blown before they rain down?
Why do they rain down? How are the caught in our atmosphere?
Does gravity play a part?
How does oxygen stay. Why aren’t there moments of un-dispersed oxygen.
Deadzones. Patches. How is it that the bonds link.

Don’t you think mouths are strange. Where they lead.
Voices and food and breath emanate and are taken.
Swallow a bug.
Snore.
Yodel. yell, spit, suck, bite, grind, exhale, yawn.

Lose your jaw.
Your jaw fell off.
You are just a top pair of chompers and a throat.
*gulp

I saw my aunties today.
They love their fads.
What’s the difference between a fad and a skill?

Chill. Ahh, the eye of the storm.
Relationships aren’t a house of cards.
They aren’t pick up sticks.
They can be exclusive.
They add. They shouldn’t subtract.
Challenge. Comfort is a sin in so many instances.

Who brought curry here, within smelling distance.
I am distracted. I have done the wrong work.
Again. The things I should read.
The infomation I should be absorbing.
Distraction. Hunger. Horrible.
Dry lips.
Flaked.

People in relationships.
though a little bit of overlap is undeniable,
codependency at any level shouldn’t hinder a person’s ambition.

How expensive are kids?
Are they taxing?
Do they steal your mind, to exhaustive levels?
Talking, always talking.
Dreaming, growing, eating, untoilet-trained.
Hungry, crying, wanting, needing.
Attention, hair, teeth, mess.
Late nights. Terrors. Worries. A cold,
a cough. A FALL. A bad sprain. A cut. A bruise.
Mum, dad. Mum. DAD. MUM.
Social, emotional, monetary, physical stresses.
Worries and fears. Ideals and education.
Lack of practice. Inability to answer.
Loss of experience. Irrationality.
Worry. Direction. Horrible words.
Anger. Frustration.
Velcro. Safety. Budgets

Kids. Kids on a shoestring.

Smart people, are dumb people.
Looking at people. In this instance,
humanity forgets how unimportant it is.
You are observing people? Why?
You’re a smart person, look elsewhere.
Fun resides under rocks when you are young.
Look up, look up, look out.

LEAR.

I’m tired of eating chicken and duck.
Lets change it up. What can we domesticate.
What can we eat? Avian variety food.

Penguins.
Emu
Ostriches
Pigeons
Turkey
Goose
Peacocks
Kiwi

Owls?
Vultures?
Eagles/Falcons/Hawks?

Plovers?
Magpies?
Domesticated crows? (fuck no, crazy lady gone too far)
-too smart. too… evil. It’d be like Terminator, although sky net would be evil fucking birds that are smart enough to take over the world.
Look at those calculating yellow eyes.
One day breeding those, you’re a gonner. Swarmed. Pecked to death.
Carrion in no time.

mexican comedian “fluffy”
“the brain that changes”

Looking at the book case is inspiring.
“we have so many books, so many i’d like to read”
Better go and do all those other things first though.

My life, so much of the time.
Hahhaa.

What do old people get up stairs on? Chair lifty things?
STAIR LIFTS. great…

Buy a tree.
I’m second year geophysics. I know what gravity is.

Steve – take car to the garage this thursday

Girl in my English class her name is georgia.

Sophie – European lady, Blonde.
Works at the New Sydney.

Buy spray paint.
Buy swimming shorts.

BUT WHY, why buy this shit? I have swimming shorts? And i’m still not motivated to go to the pool. Even thought its free. What the actual fuck is wrong with me?

Asking my Korean friend if he can read Japanses. You’re rolling the dice.
Not thinking straight. Uninformed. Presuming. It affects me. I don’t like it.

Music: Ray La Montage.

Cigarettes after sex.

Camera (macro lense)
Propensity up high.
Upgrade blog.
-Hands
-Face
-Eyes

Narcissist

I left my bag at the Poobah.
I saw a lot of people that I thought I knew but didn’t.
The bag contained my favourite pair of bed socks.
They are for winter.
Yellow in colour, I hope I never lose them.
I drank a dark ale.

That girl was there.
I forget her name.
my god though. She cuts through to me.
Her eyes. Her cheekbones.
Chin, smiling lips.
Glitter. Cordially I asked.
Please. I beg of you.
Get me out of here, you under my arm.

A woollen jacket.
Money to spend.
You and I.
Travelling, on foot.
Laughing and joking. Having a ball.
Rolling with the punches. Sleeping under trees.
If you can dream better your physical self can suffer.
The mind’s limiting chemicals.
Lonely.
God dammit.

Nobody’s coming out?
I guess its up to me to dance.
It was lovely to meet you Sue.
“you both obviously didn’t grow up in Hobart”.
Or maybe we did and we got away, and that’s why we’re dancing.

But how far did I get really.
Tonight. Tucked up, lost bag.
Fuck.

Romance though.
Something gone awry. “the magic”.
Gone. Two high-minded individuals.
DEEP.
They talk.

One says. “how long should we spend apart?”

The other says: “as long as it takes”

So she leaves.
She departs and she has and adventure,
Falls in love. Is attacked. Kills someone homeless.
flees to new persia. Contracts malaria.
Sick, shuddering and shaking in a room.
She is rescued by a man selling icecreams.
Door to door. He lets himself in, hoping to steal her watch.
He sees her shuddering.
He takes the watch, then he takes pity.

She has a fever. In a large shirt of some kind, completely damp, and business pants. She is thin, and terribly unwell. Curled into an unfathomable position.
Wretched. Shaking, boiling. Streams of sweat pour out of her, through her sodden clothes and into the thin mattress.

He walks to her, takes in the surroundings.
Then he fills a glass and kneels at the edge of the bed.

His mind if filled, blank.
How has he stumbled into such a truncated world.
He remember’s his mother, she passed away moons ago.
Raajan, his father would be alone at home tonight.
Giant globe eyes, reflecting in the darkness. Somehow finding a twinkle from the lights outside, and above in the heavens. He should visit them.

He reaches out to pat her.
She isn’t present.
No, she might register.
He clasps her shoulder.
Gives her a hug with his hand.
He doesn’t know.
Just doesn’t.
Why is he here, going this far.
Who is this woman.

So he crosses his legs and whispers to her softly.
An indian story, told to each child in the cot.
It speaks of the importance of feeding the child.
Growing strong, running free and laughing.
Then a child from the far cities comes into town;
He is blind.
The healer of the city, greets the boy like a dog infested with rabies.

He is strung up. -the boy-
He is washed. Whipped. then a fire is lit.
The old healer. Steps up onto the dais.
Ruffles the boys hair and steps into the newly lit fire.
There is a flash, blinding to all. Except the boy.
He sees the man, step through and ebony coloured rift,
It closes in a brilliant hue of azure and green.
The new colour of the boys eyes.

In the sect of punjab, where language tends to flow and rhyme in its own way,
this rattle and hum of language, settles the woman from her quaking.
In her mind she was swimming in a forest river.
But the rushing around has stopped.
She sees a lake before her.
She opens her yellow eyes,
Dehydrated, sunken.
And there is a man. Squat and smiling.
He bows with his eyes.
Dramatically he nods his head and she feels a connection.

She doesn’t ask who, why or where they are.
She just smiles her split lips sleepily and stretches into a soaking, slumber.

He admonished her with his eyes.
This exalted beauty.
Figure hugging shirt, he covers with a sarong like fabric.
That rested over a nearby chair back.
He reaches into his pocket.
Withdrawing a clove, it passes his lips and rests in the bottom corner of his mouth, between lips and teeth. The sensation and smell are subtle and reminiscent of other times.
She breaths heavily now.

Water resting between his knees.
He kneels.
Wondering.
Turing the weight of time over in his mind.
He wonders at her story; what is next for her.
How is it that she will end up.
Why was he chosen for this.

He stands, shaken.
Abruptly has pats his knees, puts back the watch and vacates the hotel room.
On his way to see his father, he catches his bluey green eyes in a reflection of a parking meter top. He squints and smiles at himself and his thoughts of the day.
What a pretty lady.

My dad.
Is dada.
He is my protector.
He is my teacher.
He is no artist.
What he does is-
is important.

Housing, not drawing.
Following, leading, managing.
Learning, appraising, watching.
He is a watchful man.

He is at the front.
He is our advanced guard,
He is our eyes sometimes.
When we sleep, he has our absolute trust.
He has an edge.
Unlike every canvas that has its end,
my dad seems to go on.
Past that edge, I rarely push.
He’s already out there.

He is the scout.
He witnesses the world.
Observes it, through glasses-
and the colour-blind eyes of his.
Still the pale blue eyes,
Linked are his receptors.
The powerful brain. History!
He has a wealth few men have.
Educated, well managed, contained.
Humour. Enjoyable. Relaxed. Trusted.
Company, rife with wickedness suppressed.

He laughs at innovation,
at the proactive. He is. And he is laughing.
Self aware. Scared. Shy. Tempered.
Not so experimental.
My dada is not so keen on the abstract.
He searches, at the front.
For proof.
Smiling, with mug in hand.
“A two cups of tea day”
What a great line.

Quality.
Qualitative.
I wonder if life without you,
You-you.
Would be better.
I wonder,
Because tonight we fought.
You asked not to end the night on a sour.
I don’t get that. I’ll let you walk away from me.
You need to go and re-value yourself.
If you want someone to walk over, date a bridge.
You’ve made me cross.
You’ve crossed to the other side.
I feel like I get to choose now.
you cracked me.
If this is left.
Even a day – I will rot.

You don’t know this. But my mind,
this, relationship. Was doomed from the beginning.
You’re snipe, snide, remarks. Your neediness.
Frankly i’m worn thin. You bore me.
I’m tired of your games.
Your one eye darker than the other.
Your tone.
Somehow, I find you insufferable.
The side of me most brought out by you, is boredom with myself.

Maybe i’m hungry.
Probably just a bad day.
But I shouldn’t want to avoid you.
I like my time alone.
Maybe I’m broken.
I’d like to say it was me.
The reason relationships haven’t worked in the past, is because I wasn’t perfect.
That’s why I strive to do better.
But from the outset.
TRUST.
Did I trust you?
Could I say “I love you”.
No, I wouldn’t let myself.
I feel like that.
That has what has come between us.
We’re too protected.
In our cocoons.

But let me ask you this.
When’s the last time you had fun without me.
Dare I say, without me you are nothing.
Without me, I see nil of you.
and that bores me.
Work work work, work on yourself.
That cut me once, and i’m using it now on you.

Now is as good-of-a-time as any.
I’ve been honest with you as best, and as kindly as I can.
Now its time for me to depart this duo.

Word-Life tonight was wonderful.

Dada. And “feed the homeless to the hungry”
To finish. The energy. I was entertained. Tickled one might say.
Goodness.

I feel isolated.
I don’t feel the walls closing in.
Nothing like that.
Nothing dangerous.
A bit of dread.
A bit of lethargy.
Silence,
Thinking.
I must get myself out of this.
I need to visit a friend.
He is wizened.
Exercise too.
I’m an addict.
Just run, its that easy.
Run from your problems.
I can run.
Some people cannot.
I can. I can run.
But I don’t get anywhere anymore.
I get back here.
I’m happy.
I need to focus on these thoughts,
I should put them to good use.
Jogging, its over so fast.
My cure. Head quelled.
Legs ache.
Hands cold.
Back straight.

Until the next time I need to.
Eat, sleep, say the wrong things.

Oh honey,
that’s all you need.
Just money,
and the tobacco weed.

Also, water your plants.
and love. -yeah- you need love

My mum the crucial, cameo of hippy antics.
Class. All class.
In session.

Jack Kerouac reached someone atleast.
“Jeez I was so beat”
“yeah, beat, like beat-beat. Beatnik AF”
Walking around what… Boston and picking up cigarette butts? Strange.

EDWARD SNOWBALL: Say’s “That’s it” often. I say something, he say’s “that’s it”

Yeah man, sure. That’s just the thing, isn’t it (Great query). Round about ambiguous sentences. Message received!

Reservations:

I have my fears,
Unbeliefs,
Frightened I am.
Is she the one,
Is all this a waste.
The sticky black spot in my mind.
Old gum, trod black in the corner.
Or is it manure?
Shit, human? dog? Excrement.
Like my fears. I don’t know.
I hug and hold myself. My-
personified reservation.
Mouth; rectum.
From where?
I know not.

Cigarettes after sex – Affection.

Truncation.

I truncated.
Flunkated.
Failed,
Elaborated.

Short.
Wasted.
Wailed.
Hailed, for help.

Bailed my tears.
Bottled, bottled
In old beers
bottled.

Drink me in.
Eyes glassy.
Still full, you see.
I see double.

Knife edge, hurt.
He squeezed a nail.
Palmed it.
Focussed on the pain.

Soaked shirt
The full pale.
Bloody lip-bit.
Bugged, softly wail.

YOU ARE WHAT I AM.
What IS that?

Melted gumboot face.

Why is a crunchy apple more enjoyable than a floury apple?
How do we associate texture and pleasantness?
Are flavours, preferences inherent?
Innate? Do we learn and associate goodness in all things?

THINGS.

Lamingtons are better than scones. Discuss.
lamination is settled with bones.

Crockery, What a crock’a.

look,
And look,
And look again.
Do you believe in “love” at first sight?
Cliche is all dried up I suppose.
My heart’s still beating.
It won’t forever.
Hold me.
Can we least of all, explore the idea?
Pull the shades.
Flick the blinds.
Fluttering lids.
My mind a whirrr.
Mind blender.

Its a bad habit.

Flat this evening.

You’re version of romance doesn’t cut it.
My energy was way down.
What people would expect from me, off.
The expectations that I have of everyone else, troubling.
I hug you as you cry, one big red button.
Pushed to cracking point. Tears.
A shudder. Shhhh, a shudder.
Why are you so sensitive?

Tomorrow, due dates.
Many things to consider. My brain, numb.
Lacking the will, want and ability to soak up things.
Trash! Due dates. Percentages.
I need to be smart.
Lecture, recording.
If I just focus on my work. All will be ok.

Tomorrow, Pass.
Class.
Break, work, tests.
Blam.
Smart plan.
ok. I can do it.

Nice one liquorice.

“Whatnot” – Quite an funny saying.
What does it mean? Anything aforementioned, however communication recylclement in this case does not stand. We sit around, saying the same whatnot.

Assignment is going well.

Breakfast this morning was nice.

I had sex.

I ate figs.

Robot heart, burning man.

I wanted to say something, something unlike myself, share, it would have taken courage and put me on the spot; thrown me completely.
Megan laughed, and laughed.
Uncontrollably.
It was like a sign. A message. A mood. A strange conscionable psychological state, or occurrence.

Now for me polish. I’ll eat later. Work later.
Talk about Canada, Ottawa.
Plan, map, get excited.

Yes. all all all all all all all all all.

“haha I totally lied about 6.30. Haven’t even left uni to go home and get my running kit. (but lets pretend what I just wrote wasn’t in your understanding right). Instead I just said. I’m going to be 10 minutes late… RIGHT [following me so far[

And then, I leave now, hop on my bike and ride to your for some tea. I tell you literally nothing, because all i’ve been doing is uni. Then I stand around awkwardly, thinking about uni. You tell me about your day. I ask just the right amount of questions. Then you try to seduce me, I have a cup of tea and tell you I need to get back home for dinner.

But I suppose I don’t. I mean… I should, there is ALOT i should be doing, that is all well and truly in the forefront of my mind. So it takes A LOT of work by you, I say the wrong thing, often, because I have a lot on my plate and i’m doing what I shouldn’t be (by seeing you) and still having half my brain focussing on elsewhere. I think about tomorrow and how it’s really only half a day of study.

The proof reading I should be doing, the reading of a book, the french assignment, the bad news about Canada that I haven’t told you yet, the fact that I haven’t been for a run, my low phone battery, the lack of sun i’ve got today, the omega 3 tablets i’ve been taking that are 4 years out of date, my silly diet. The pressure leftovers in my fridge, and the overbearing inevitable heat death of the universe. ”