Fuck you.
You don’t know me.
“Since when did you know anything about the Hobart backpacking scene?”
Is that a question?
Because I do take an interest.

I don’t envy you.
I am not jealous.
Because you you,
you are living out a life that I could lead.
You could do better.
Focus more.
Tradeoff.

People aren’t amazed by you.
I’m mad about this.

Jog today was good. 4.2minute kilometres. Over 11km.
Stuck to the tail of a spartan jogger.
I really should have blitzed the end a bit harder.
Free fruit afterwards.

Saw Rhi selling coffee.
Had an espresso.
I think i’m going to die of an aneurism.

Gotta do some study now.

I’ve been missing mum.
I felt like crying all of yesterday,
but the tears didn’t come.

Busy busy busy.
Work work work.
Do, do, do.
Create.
Decide.
Make choices.
Reflect your environment.
Your day to do.
Become it.

Can you break your programming?
Really??

Imagine all the books you should read.
Move home. Read all those books.
The lifehood, worthwhile?
I’m unsure.
Social sacrifices.
Tragic.
Energy.
I need more energy.

Crazy cat lady. Needs a “Cat-scan”.
Games theory.
Philosophy.
A beautiful mind.

Running behind a beautiful woman.
motivation. Sickening.
Libido.
Driver.
Runner.
Wanter.
Spew. Sick. Trudge. Breathe, swivel.
Head on a pike.
Look left,
Look right.

Bicep too big for the armband.
And the rains came down.
Standing in the carpark
Looking at the first, second and third place getters.
Wondering what their lives are like.

I ate inari.
One dollar for homemade wasabi.
Fucking scam.
Not to worry.
Made curry, did the washing up.
Found mum’s booze.
Tipped it.

What next?

Pets die before their owners most of the time.
That’s why I don’t like pets.

It was so windy last night.
As I took out the bins.
The non-recycling.
The landfill. The human stain.
I looked at the moon.
It was luminous. That’s a word for it.
The trees, bent and creaked.
The leaves like a waterfall.
Rushing and uncountable.
Unreal movement.
And I thought; “How could anyone understand all of what nature is”.

I felt like this gusty night was a reminder that our perception,
our lives are unfulfilled. Putty. Microscopic.
Inadequate.
I couldn’t comprehend what was going on around me.
The natural forces.
If something completely unheralded happened.
I would have stood, just as awestruck.
I don’t know why.
I feel like I didn’t understand the world or its natural processes.

To think I can use the words.
The word nature to capture my worthless state.
Diminutive.
Shrunken.
Hyper aware. Afraid. Fearful. Aghast. Spellbound. Unknowing. Wowed.
Ghoulish eyes. Growling stomach.
And the howl of the wind.
The primal forces, ripping through the landscape.
Why.
Where has this unprecedented wind come from.
Explain it to me so that I might go indoors and be content on this sliver of information.

It is the big bad wolf,
My house of straw, sticks or bricks.
If it all comes crumbling down. Nothing.

I realised yesterday that so many deaths are unexpected.
My own. I wondered if it would be sudden.
I hoped not.
Talking about it feels strange. Like there’s a taboo there.
Why am I experiencing the “talking about a taboo” feeling.
What is that.
I will die.
It will be unexpected.
I can’t plan it.
It goes against my programming.
And that is not a program I wish to break.
My rules. I want to break them all.
I wish to be greedy, in the most blessed of ways.
I wish to share.
But not my car with Megan.
She’s American, a woman, and blonde.
I feel like she would crash and kill us.
I think that.
I feel that.
There is something wrong with me.
Why do I have there problems.
These beliefs.
These issues.
How can I function in society with these prejudices.
What kind of person am I?
Do I make an issue of my problems? Not at all.
Do I like to accept people for who they are?
For the most part yes.
You do what you want to do in this life.
If it doesn’t effect others. Good.
If it has a negative impact on people’s lives, their health,
How close they are to ritual death. Then I will act.
Act. Do. Change state.
Attack, react. Act upon.
I am an actor.
A liar. A thief and wishful beggar.
I sit for long hours writing things that do not matter to the world, but matter to me.
I am faced with my own personal problems to which most people would shrug.
I can offer little insight.
I see a lot of problems.
I see the see-saw.
The options.
The cause and the effect.
The follow-on problems.
The missed ideas.
That unturned stone.
WHY.

Why have you come to me with this problem.
Reside.
Rest.
Sleep.

Let inconsistency be your god, like it is mine.
I promised myself to take a photo of every meal.
It was a great idea, I thought.
One day, less than 24 hours later. The idea was gone,
DASHED.
Forgotten.
Wasted.
Not made a part of myself.
Held, flirted with.
Kissed.
Then flung aside.
The behaviour, the effort, the consistency cast aside.
Shoved from the doorway of my being and forgotten.
Left to be taken by the howling wind.
Natures original wolves.
That which the dogs croon for.
Their god is the wind.
The fear.
The song of movement, action, displacement.
Taker, shifter, destroyer, dissolver, eroder, changer, shaper.

Like the sand lines,
clouds,
waves.
The leaves clatter, shake and spit.
Threes bending and breaking.
Littering their own roots to be tumbled, roiled and rolled away.
over and over, around and round. The wind delivers where it pleases.
Acting on its own choice, feel, want of running, flowing freedom.

And I stand there, un-understanding.
Transfixed.

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.