ok-er.
T-ANG tang taad.
“Thats a deaf touch, (during table tennis)” but i mean deft with a silent T. Deaft with a silent T is deaf?

Half a day without food in a group and your company is dire.
Insufferable- chilled silent, useless, strange and wasteful.
Perhaps I was trying too hard. Maybe you’re unwilling to join and jest.
I hate you, i fucking hate you. Everyone.
My strangeness stings, my bar, bad parking, wanton jokes.
You ignore my cheap-shots, smile and move on.
Your heartbeat quickens
Mine stays the same “normal”
How do we make the emotions work?
Stolen pavements. Headstones and criminal activity.
Flash lights and awkwardness.
Totally; my big brother.
And the rules? What about the rules.
Bat bat bat. Back and forth. We drive, we wish we hope and delay.
No wonder we don’t like crowds. We’re not brilliant; shameless or anything.
A non-event human. Interactions flounder.
Brilliance tarnished. Worn, lost.
Fragile returns to the homestead.
Plastered lostness. Queer stapled to our heads with friendly staples.
“You’re putting your foot in your mouth with ice skates on, getting all joker up in here…
Now i know how you got all those scars” a beautiful image.
And i tired, really instigated, economical. Body moving.
Hair of the dog in the back seat. My choices, my energy usage.
Weirdoes, talking about themselves.
Posturing, fighting, missplacing thoughts ideas, smiles and arguments.
No idea, like drowned fish in the rain.
Tails flopping, side on. Shy eyes and a captured spirit.
Kids, one and all. Over the banister,
Down the stairs. This is the place she bumper her head.
The corner, sick fear of my reaction.
Fixed fixation. This rock; tick tock.
Fuel, caring meaninglessness.
This is the sport we lost her. Blooded tsunami of the mind.
And my heart breaks.
Beer and all. The fall of the matron. Matriarch, mother.
Pouring guilt, loss and love and corrupted spirit.
Manifest hunger, tiredness, stress and psychopathic worry.
When will i break it all down.
And in the rubble rebuild.
For now a headache, fear and the joker.

I want to outstay my welcome but i’m not going to.

How can you care about other people’s opinions I said.
Broadcasting bollocks, opinions, noise over the radio.
A complete stranger. Making sounds at space and silence.
Empty threats of ideas. Not grounded in your sphere just-
just nothing. Saying and questions and wanton lack lack lack.
The quality isn’t there, the emotion or relevance. It goes.
Goes on on on. An experienced writer, or talker would have,
would have written, would have said it, differently. Diff.
Pesto. When you’re A-ing is PASTA. The words are the same but-
for their vowel sounds. So I tried and nobody got it. Left it.
“LAFT AT”

A-ANG Axampla af what at as!
B-ANG wath SABTLA. Farm maats fanctaan!
C-ANG wath 80% watar (parcantagas arant raal)
D-ANG. Tha vataman D. Avary garl, and gay.
A-ANG. At as what at as.
F-ANG. Any thang. Tha taath. Bata yaar lag. Pat dack an vagana.
G-ANG. Tha G-strang, chard, masac, clathas, antartaanmant. Hat tha spat.
H-ANG. Kall ma. Strang ma ap, wath a naasa and lat ma ga: “ha-ha, than: hang”
A-ANG. At as what at as
J-ANG. Walcama ta tha jangla! Play, danca and smaka/taka a jag.
K-ANG. Taa mach K, want kaap tha dactar at bay. K-whala!
L-ANG. Blank maans, lyang. Asn’t thas fan?
M-ANG. Yaa tha mang-mang, mang. Vace Caty rafaranca! Gamas!
N-ANG. Braak yaar braan wath nangs. Starvad far axygan.
A-ANG. Cantantaas jaka!
P-ANG. Bays payang far garls staff. Nat paaang an. Grass.
Q-ANG. Cryang, mayba standang an lane ar waatang far samathang.
R-ANG. Paratas.
S-ANG. Vacal chards an tha past tansa. Laakang farward taa tha shaw.
T-ANG. Laka a flavaar. Chaps. Laman. Lama. Gangar mayba?
A-ANG. Yaa gat at yat?
V-ANG. Lackang batwaan yaar fangars.
W-ANG. Warld af Warcraft symbal. Haad crawnad wath fangars an a ‘W’. Dack…
X-ANG. Wa asad ta ga aat, bat naw wa da nat.
Y-ANG. Am stall dacadang af thas qalafaas as a vawal.
Z-ANG. Anca yaa raach tha and af a stary and yaar tarad. Snaaza tama.|

We climbed the mountain. The view was great, 0.5 points for climbing Mt Wellington. Great, so good to be part of the community of hikers.
Then we walked 7/8ths of the way to the lost world. Shoes wet, hiking, sliding, eating snow. Then she packed it in, gave up, turned back. No rest.. Just “that’s it”. I understood she was sick, but it was a serious kick in the pants.
We drove back, communication; indeed words; are the worst! I thought to myself.
If I didn’t check in. Then I could have kept walking. But I stopped, I cared, and I was furious, filled with loath feelings. Getting over halfway and heading back. Up and over the hill and halfway down and then to stop, not rest… and turn back was the stupidest hiking activity I’ve partaken in. Madness.

Then home, my foolish sister in a rush, made cookies, burnt the bottom then took the keys to the flat. It was a riddle of insult and injury. The mystery of the universe in its ununiformity confounded me slightly. No savoy baths, instead the beach. We check out Alexander Battery; driving past the turn-off to Megan’s place. Then went for a walk. I smelt the flowers, Kat had a blocked nose.
I had very little to give. Light hearted energy, thoughts and basics were shared. It’d been a long time. I decided to broadcast memories akin to each location. Running with Jacob home, bogans, fireworks.
Breaking my balls on the play equipment at a young age playing chasings.
Carols by candle lights. Ideas for outdoor parties.
The winter solstiece swim. Nude, falling over near the other battery- the letdown of friends.
Walking, the sun set, a small jump, a splinter. The tide coming in.
I went for a swim. “Pink as the day I was born”. So cold.
A cure perhaps? Fight of flight. FEAR!

A reaction, make or break.
The lymbic, limbic system.
Makes you feel alive.
No snot, no sores, or pain.
Just clarity, joy and sharpness.
Pin pricks. Heat on the outside.
Hot, warm, skin thudding.
Rolling, searing, mellow.
Headstand on the pontoon-
diving in. Freestyles
Submerged, tired, backstroke.
Cold brain. numb. swishing hair.
Wave rolling. Paddling stranger,
canoe canoe. Mum, memory story.
And then the sand and the thoughts.
Clarity, pointless talk.
Laughter, wonder, “entertainment”
a walk, a worry and a silence.
Home, home, petrol and awkward
failing interaction with the guy
at the service station. He looked at me as if i’d said something, a question maybe that he’d missed. The moment conversation drops between you and you’re waiting: really on top of it and he just stands there wondering what was said and his eyes give him away and you know, so you repeat what you said but that doesn’t help because it’s improvised. But you don’t mind or really care, you could have been nice or middling or horrible for the same outcome. The loss is still there; in his eyes. You pay. you walk out, 18 dollars something. Lots of silver change and a gold coin.
Then you drive back and pick up Rhys who is walking to your girlfriend’s old place. Which is strange because you had a dream about her, and she screamed at you and said that she never wants to see you again… Which is odd, and off, because you never see or think about her. So this is some sort of powerplay.
Rhy is going to play dungeons and dragons. He’s sad that you’ve been back and you haven’t talked to him, you should be studying (like now) but fuck that.

In the back of my mind i’m trying to work out what happened to Julius the pidgeon. And I need to tie in Homer. But I haven’t read the book. Maybe that’s overdone. Its for children, its obvious. 4 people today tomorrow in 3 or 4 hours after then we’ll be cool and close and chatty and pizza and art and coffee and heath and what could possibly go wrong, except that energy fluctuates and crashing cars and rain and pain and no pleasure over bringing people together and all that difficulty of making strangers gel. Sharing for others.
The stories. 1 on 1 on 1 on 1. How do you all go in a group?
And I wonder. But games may not work. Money will buy comfort. Ease and happiness like the french, brilliant differance.

Daffaranca. A-ANG.

What do you think about running?

And what I think while I run. Murakami would tell us everything and nothing.
Relating our ordinary lives to the grander narrative of nothing mattering.

And the vanilla.
and the voices.
and the vegemite.
and vitamins.

COUP. COUP. FLONK.

And the working word of the day is flonk. And the fact that people don’t know what i’m talking about. And how distanced I am from it. The words, the meaning of it all.

Yellow shirt. Nod nod flonk.

Iamb

IAB

Utilizing an Ecocritical lens to identify social anxieties
stemming from “light-switch story”.
The repetition that’s seen in the post-apocalyptic dystopia and return to nature, is foreshadowed as an idea in Shane’s quip over the consumption problems that face humanity because of women’s inability to turn off light switches.
Education?

The Freudian association is made through the familial link relating to the reaction of women to this criticism: “You sound like my father”. This view is entirely problematic, patriarchy. Under the guise of a joke, which Freud again would suggest is an attempt at relieving anxieties about matters of “dire importance to the subject”.

“at least I tried” underpins in its entirety his own failings.

navigation of word and image that allows for a graphic reiteration of there being no safe place while emphasising humanity’s dependence on fossil fuels

The dire concern that “the world is run on fossil fuels” a regime of verisimilitude through which the reader is hailed.

Experting

And I hesitate, no headphones no need no direction.

Needing to write a story, the same story and it all just mushes together.

And it really comes down too- washing away the grit and dust. Security, hope and safe passage. 

A hovel or hotel to hang your towels. High and dry above the tide. Water mark memory. Sink or swim mentality erodes at us. 

One was once naturally occurring- locked away we fear and follow weather reports lusting after our demise. At all the doors and windows. Peeking in as we peer out. Licking at our scarves, washing at our shoes. No more removed as it taps gently, or howls at from the trees. Peeling down the hall, under doors, through keyholes. The wind of change, lazily blows through you. Ultimately.

iWho Present, Past & Future sees
Whose ears have heard,
The Holy Word,
That walk’d among the ancient trees.ng

And it buffers it loads it crashes i spiral
Shivver snort and worry its been too long and well never change. Cutting citing cutting sliding fighting deep palms crossed holy shrinking wild nights foil be my hat and honest wanton child freed from memory feeding off emotion like the womans irreverance to prediction and we are so close. Strange because i know what i do for you.
Plane crashing forgotter, dice rolled.
Fuel ignites. Crisps.
Tunnel vision as an angler fish. Light is real real real.

Instinctual passions are stronger than reasonable interests.

The love of fame is the ruling passion of the noblest mind.

The smog of transit

Hotly waiting Couch Surfers

Waiting and tickets.
Thankyou come again. 

Mister, mister where are you?

Underhanded, waves.

“Ess” because you don’t

Know. 

-maybe a reference to ‘yes’

Rules. Laws. Tricks. Plays. Jogging. Memory. Spelling. Trying. Failing. Shyness.

“Live, to define a word” – 

Time.

Apple (company, success, religion, sustenance) 

“To experience shit is to relearn it” 

Anything: toilet.love.. Food. Emotions. confusion. Idea. Invention. Tastes. 

“Willyoubemymeltingmoment” I’m running and running. Sit down, slouch, sit up, work fidget, fight, lack want, chew chew swallow. Wonder, worry check. Stretch. Dehydration bearing.

Writing the story of Dave. Saying I’m no good for you. Mood not now. Progression and our future. Friends family change and simple pleasures. The breakdown of balanced between psychophysicality. Company, play, thoughts and sex. Physical attractiveness as some sort of shamanistic talent. Nobody would think twice if my face was ugly and my hands were broken. Nobody will remember these limited trajectories. No stopping, naked staring. Fear and shock. Dwarf any humble thoughts of the future. A cheek of back and forth. Flat grimaces of unhiding eyes. Want more? 

Raver Dave story. The drum. Toast, bread, Apple picking and the broken hand.

Freud talked freely from his own perspective. He liked women I think and he justified their dreams with his own logic. Learning fro others he tried to safely and rhythmically peruse a truth that nobody was willing to tackle which was the savage in-education of people. We’ll look for answers in things that we don’t understand. (Such as Wallace and Grommit) – and we do not understand out individual/collective dreams. Which is to say the plans of others rarely correspond to our own dreams in process or actualisations.

This means that when we dream. There is no drama it’s strictly a departure from the things we know as we engage with Play. 

Dear pure blonde

My heart for you- 

Like a pissed on fire

Questionably poison.

Boys on vacation

Change station- vacation

Masturbation, annihilation fixation destination. 

Demonstrating my crap mind. 

The wanting was not stable. Horse bled.

Ironically. Tooth brushes his return. Music to

My ears and the lights. A safe change. The prince of water and layers excess. Double that- time and size next to eachother. Zoo-bandicoot. Pay me back later. Brother. Ailment. Ali. Do the shit for real. Weird and white. Albino black. And and and..,

Glass in my middle finger. Left hand. Having done the washing up. Where can we find the time to fix the house? Warm and loved- not books, not rooms, not sink nor cupboard have I the time.

Relax. Polymath.

Privy spelling. Priv prob priv 

So luck good. So much food. The sukkah- dunks dukka and the lost language of lost was. 

Hey good whys what’s up. I’ll be here. Mitigation, questions. What do you reckon. Silken and fabric- 

Our own, could be. Cast away language. Do you want to play a game? Latent. Lost lips lasting fear. And froth. Do we need music? No dog no dog … You’ve said good eight times. 

Semi oversight. I know. No.

Very delightful. People to entertain- crazy I feel like it’s a bad idea. Lungs and smoking. Smoking, active. Who cares neither neither. Nigger. Nigger. Famous fragile. 

“Do you want to play a game”

“No I would rather do any other thing” 

“Who is this” ” it’s very easy to” 

Proud proud.

Do you want to play a game? I would rather do anything else.