Life as a Travelling Boy & Industrious Man

You need to position yourself outside of the cell of understanding that life has no meaning, and function as everyone else does. Most are mindless, others have your spark. Be reductive and attribute all meaning to sex. Rate sex, have sex with everyone. Make your body strong, firm and desireable, have a shrewd, dry wit. Be honest to yourself and lie to everyone. Read history, think of the Greeks, subvert marriage, value religion and science, you tool.

Aye aye, captain!
I, I. Captain?

Yes yes, what is it?!

I must stress,
‘IT’ is not the same for you and I.
My eyes are changed, are different.

I do not think we see the same.

The sea is never the same again.
Flux and suction, the boat is out birth.
Our marriage. Our girl.
Our miss to miss.
Our past, our future.
Our mast, our ms.
We don’t own a think.
That’s how I see it.
That’s why I take this log out,
out with me.
out my eyes.
You and me.
You and eye.
Bouncing, lapping, kissing the waves.
Suction to the wave.
Ride what she throws at you.
Barrels and alls! Mate?
Battles and falls state.

I talk to you, walking home.
You tell me stories of bananas,
I say I’m more complex than undertones.
I share freely. I don’t understand me.
You attribute meaning as you wish.
I walk, cold right finger.
You tell me that you casually have sex with friends.
I negotiate. We push and pull.
Closer than ever, propositioning subtly.
Like my lip bites today.
beautiful eyes. Cute accent.
Lovely smooth skin, straight hair.
Small nose, well proportioned face.
Bright eyes. Awake, aware, questioning. Wanting,
wondering. And I have to pull away.
Keeping it all professional.

And you proposition me, and I speak honestly.
Nonsense. And fear. What if the next time we spend together isn’t as good.
What if this was the best and I lose you.
I wish to cling, cling to the moment.
Hoping, asking, fearing, screaming-
screaming ‘i’m sorry’. Because this was the best you ever had.
The love you most, most felt love.
you and me you fucking.
me you amid friendship, circles of cells, round, spinning tops.
Bra falling and a friend telling you that you’re ugly.
I see my friends as beautiful.
I should get away. Free of time, of people. Energized.
Angry at home under storm cloud. Shrunked heart.
Woney, white, rob handing hanging cotton rope.
Belt and tie and racialization.
Black black black.

And I tell you truths as best I can,
though I don’t understand me.
“I think when I have sex with someone it all changes, I don’t speak to them, we fucked up, emotional attachment, a barrier, a shade, shadow, change”. The game changes. The want happens more. The guild. The pins, the blurts the head laugh. And there I am, telling you that I change if I have sex with you. We’d become less close. You say: “Well that changes everything, I’ll never sleep with you now” And I say: “GOOD”.
But I know not to ask the real question.
“You’re not the same? Where are they now”
Who?
The others that you kept talking to.
I have a power none other than myself controls.
A masculine, locked.
Core.

Broken. Prefix.
Affix! abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz.
The alphabet doesn’t need to have an order.
we learn the model through song. Through flow, repetition.
Why can’t i spell happiness. Double P right? Double N? Double S?
We need to deconstruct P.
We need to deconstruct happiness.
We need to deconstruct the housewife.
We need to question: “what are you doing”.
I need to go home.
I’ve been asked inside by two ladies, asking me if I wanted to have cups of tea. Code word tea. And one that “threw caution to the wind”- but I didn’t hear the proposition. writing 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10. Left to right.
Then write to left.
Writing instructions for a dancer to follow from text.
a recipie for disaster.

Alphabet “elemeno-pee”
Iambic?
Limitations of and on women vs access.
Death; I think I can cure it.
EDUCATION. ‘A’GEUCATION.
Difference -> Differance.

Very telling.
Coins stacked up, they are beans.

‘a’ true.
Not true.
un true.
de true
pre true
dis true

Cut the mustard. Biblical.
The garden of Eden.
What’s the deal? What is the ideal?!
1limited convention.
2Acts push out the circle
3
4the household as a scary place for strangers to visit”mad-hatter”

Perspective. Truth exists.
Postmodernist: every human interaction is a transaction.
Freelance//Transaction//OUTSOURCING –> Testing how?

Play, thought provoking.

Fun over Easter?
Myself, Sam. Collaborative. “The notebook”
Between turns we stretched. Several pages. Stop first (he said)

Answer to anyone’s anything:
“Who are they didn’t they kill themself?”

Title to feminist autobiography:
“CAN I CAN’T”

There is no time like the present.
INHABIT MEMORY (FALSE IMMEDIATELY) ‘not whole’ NOT ENTIRE.
TIRE, ROUND. CIRCULAR. CELL. SPHERE. ROUND.
‘The lover’s discourse’.

1future person being
2feel the effect presently
3shifting things though we experience lag.
HIERARCHY 101, Error 404.

Fellow feeling. Empathy/Sympathy.

The woman sublimates herself to the feelings of others and is therefore oppressed by the conventional society she assembles and unfortunately keeps.

Imagination. EDUCATION -> Feminism.

A-funny joke by Neither Neither
Nietzche.
The judge hit his gavel, and his wig was orange..
Maths and humour.
Should have made his co-efficient ‘x’
X-rated…
Then it would have been a dirty joke.

Find that percentage of people, 17% that will listen, nod and change their mind. The believable, thoughtful sum.
The body of predicated, pleasured, privileged; en masse.
The origin of happiness.
The wantneed few.
The twinkling eyes.
Sudden blinking brightness.
The two headed Tasmanians, love seeking. Two-headed. Erginomically.
Why are we doing this? We don’t need it, we have able and brilliant minds; capable of playing and creating in freedom.
I take away so much from these. You know that right.

Thoughts: brains and bodies, there is no separation. There are only bodies.Everything that registers is a sense, which is received through our bodies. 
People cutting themselves. 

Vs cultures in Africa. It’s ok!
God is dead.

Romance is dead.

Worrying is dead.

Saying hello is dead.
Suicide if a friend in Melbourne. 

Moved to Perth for a job with his wife. 

Lost his wife, lost his job. Killed himself- his son lost a father.
Magazine title : fæk.

Dyslexia proof.

One portrait per-person.

On the back we right the truth, an emotional reaction to face, hatred, love and lust.

One page. Double sided. 

Floral. With male and female nudity. 
The computer switches on- out of the blue. My head hurts from dehydration. Food tonight, so rich, emboldening. As I lay, without underpants, on the floor. 

Back and neck hurt. No massage will cure. Ooooh, ouch owe. Ohh-eeeiiik.
Books. Vonnegut. Siddartha.

Do you know the stars? Only when I look at them.-that which truly rings. Tears coughing. Choking us.

“Protege-ing.”Every child, son of a young man must write his father’s autobiography.

Father as success.Moving on, nature, betterment.

800dollars for the car. “Nick and Nick” some things were left off. Fucking service done wrong, fraudulent. An that’s how you die.

Niki, tell me why you got so cold o me. You changed, made plans, rescinded, unminded, dissected, turned away. Slept with someone else? Just left me- for what reason. So cold in France. You say you’ll throw caution to the wind from your car: I saw “pardon”. 

I joke at the wid stealing your voice. Say it again you proud fucking wretch. Sin again. Break me as I wish to wrest you. Merciless. Mercy me. Price paid in full, for my love an any old entertainment will do. Old sitting time, want for company. Caution to the wind indeed, your red hair. My anger, your loss. People chipping away at me. Me needing new shoes. Shine in, shine on.

Complex games played, heartbreak in France and I smile now at your anxiety over sex. Neurotic woman, “you’re good at that, through quaking lips” fuck you fuck you fuck you!!! A silly boy. Loss and love versus all that lust. 

Blankets and turning in, and wrinkles become me.

Dangerous people. Aren’t they. Ask, be a daring. 

Individual.

Reliability. Unique. 

Technology abandon.

Irony.

Wallet, phone, Facebook.

Revolt. Change.

Patrick. And yours? 

“Daniels”…

Daniels… And YOURS?

Nick.

Facepalm. Thanks or the call. May we last forever.

Down and up, like so many things. What-when hearts colliding brings. Fabled story telling brings. Close closed lips, meeting iris rings. Cords and flesh outward sing. Rub back, forward perspirings. And fed breasted babes are harrowing- to bosom and baptism we all cling. 

No act no words. Oh our breath is shared. All is won, and lost in bed.

The perversion of food. Eroticism. My acid tongue. Experiencing everything inside myself. A slave? No. Cream. Word associate! The family. The run-off. 

Adoption of ideas. I’m so shallow, boring basic, overthinking useless, wailing Devils advocacy. Private, intimate, shallow, wasted, poignant. Face clutching, animated, story teller. Experiential. Presidential. Free, bluesy, basic, brilliant, inclusive, angry, lost and left behind. Thigh scraping, fem, gem, then, them other,

Mother. Lost flags rail against my skin on a beach in the middle of my cold back. Sweet pain, bitterness and an unwritten story to mourn, select, wish and love my old grand lasting memory. 

Wild intensity finds stratus fields of view. Catastrophe after normal periods of coin covered hate. Falling diabolically in the Hugo Train station of laughter and listing loss. I lessen and lustnover Liath, the Virgin of transparent honesty. “I am not ready”. I respected, relented, talked and slept. No weeping or uncomfortable wanting. Just rest, rugby isn’t the game for me my love. I don’t pass backwards, it’s ok.

But I’m gone now and I wonder what you’re thinking.

Edinburgh, I will come–

Home home Aa

Bars. Big night and kissing missing. Hang out. 

Old friendships and lost love. Te patients as life floats on by. No room for the old, always improving. Liking someone, sharing time, feeling, holding hugging warmth. Stay with me, never die. Let’s leave when your partner wouldn’t. So much to to. A greedy night of drinking to forget. 

The mob’s semi circle. Verve. Around me, away, aware away thrumming lips. Smile and thought. A million miles past the guy that says “you don’t belong”. Cooled than you, than all. 

My shins split. Arm in arm with the beauty. 

You’re– Weird and misshapen, as is the rest of humanity

New voice : The moment that your husband goes for acknowledgement is the moment he drops you dancing.

Never have I ever:

lets go play that game.
Water.
Grug at work.