Allow myself to do anything I want today.
Change the bin liner nearly had me defeated.
Slow, small progress.
Haircut needed, cost twenty dollars.
Jogged down, added value.
Bought a CD for dad, cost 17.
Got him to cut my hair.
Ran to north hobart, learnt about hot cross on buns.
Fat and flour. “Cross mix”.
Played cards, I won.
Sun came out, jogged to sandy bay.
Found figs, go figure. Fine figure.
Ate a wrap. Thanks Megan.
Talk sex talk.
Missed her bus.
Was late.
Jogged home. Ate apple.
Talked to rowan.
Art, film, writing are a convosation.
“Interesting” – explanation.
Disagreement.
Juggling and sleep.
Aspirations.
Life goals, change.
Juggling and sleep.
Soup.
Family
Football.
Reading.
Today. Poetry.

Time will never tell.
Never give up a secret.
No truth, no banter.
Just a smell,
Of fresh grass.
Tomorrow, old and new.
Today’s cut.
Tomorrow’s cot.

Happy ever afters We asked difficult questions of eachother.
Got strange and lewd.
Weird.
red eyed.
Trouble.

Tim Tams should make a biscuit that’s the same filling as double choc, but change the shapes of the bikkies to more resemble pillows. “Bed Tams”

I should write my own character.

All good thoughts have been thought.
I looked at her and winked. “I feel like i’ve been eating all morning”.

A boy reads his first book.
Its about a girl, he falls in love.
He has dreams, falling into books.
He loves her, but cannot explore beyond the shallow pages of the children book of her.

He becomes and author, to write her a story.
I need to write my own story.

Darn, i lost my post.

I have an overwhelming sense of “can be bothered today”
That was the crux of it.
Hug your mum.
Haha

Buy a rocking chair: 11th feb 2016, 19:55.
On Australia day: A flight attendant with an accent offering instructions; maybe even apologising for a delay – the passenger behind “don’t worry, next she’ll say it in english”.

My bed-day note

The word THEN:
“Is, is, is was”
Tomorrow,
Today,
Yesterday.
Then
Then
Then.

I self diagnose. Jogger’s bladder is back. (again)

Attribute all you do, to the food you eat and the water you drink.
Observe others. They are wild.

I live in the “west”.
South Hobart
But – western.
Wild, wild westerner

Let my mind organise and regiment us.
Plan, organise, control.
Understand. Leadership? Bah.

“how’s work?”
“Absolutely fabulous”
-How can I take you seriously.

Acid.
I might write something,
A thing on the spectrum. Put myself down.
If you don’t admit it. Draw it out of yourself.
You become a bystanded. Someone I passed on the road or bike track.

I handed you a, a, a thing.
I tried to give you a ring.
Listen to the whirrr of my heart
Can you hear that? What did I bring?

Nothing, could make you smile or let me give.
In my back, bleeding, spleen a shiv.
A shank, a meat bloodied, gleaning black.
Dried now, the writer’s hack.

Hock and hack
and cough and froth.
What a whord. WHORE.
Frosth. Froth. Froth. Froff.
Catch yourself, fearful bumbling adaption.
Not dumb, not by half.
Sit with me in the luxury of closed border,
closed mind. To think that i’m educated,
and had these views. The world functions?
Where are these wanton unicorns of salvation.

I’m waiting and salivating.
Hungry and in bed. Coffee pot boiled.
Extracted just right.
Abandoned mink,
Left the milk out.
Not i’m just whispering to myself.
What an interesting thing.

I had a pen yesterday but it was all,
a wall.
To hard.
Jed’s gone, you know.
I do now.
I know.
now now, bring a brown cow
Clown, gown frown sick.
You prick.

You had sex with my ex.
I needed a best friend and you fucked me.
Lost. Lost what I wanted to lose.
God awful. wretched.
Knots in my spine,
Wring out my mind.
Soaked.
Bloodied washing.
I’ve been for a tumble ben. Ben was it?
Kat? Tom. Tom with a beard. What do you look like.
Other than that? Before you were a man. A boy,
your teeth? That white glossy spot.
On both.
and you waited for coffee; Like I wanted too!

The ol’
“Farewelll” in the supermarket. Aisle one.
fuck. There they are again.
Bite me.
Bit me.
Rule
Write me.
Writ me.
Kill me.
kile me.

Ah, light off by the bedside.
I know my body. I feel it.
I could do what I want.
This zone.
Comfort. Disgust. Carrot sticks.
Popups. Computer at the foot.
need flicks.
Net fucks.
Mental propaganda and porn,
wrung me dry.
Every drip. Time’s ongoing, loop.
Same, shit, different, fuck you.

Let me be cordial.
I saw some well lain cement today.
Sandy bay. My that’s a skill. Roads.
Rates. Do people pay more? Depending on where they live?
Did people put up fences to make property private; AND do illegal activities.

What is privacy?
Do you mind if I dance?
I’ll call you later, what’s your friends name?
Where do you learn spanish?
Ha. Sick. Shame.

I danced,
A tried and true,
Turned. trance.
You, like a pirranah piranah pirrhana pearannah pirrana perannah pirrhana pirannah parana parana perannah pirhannah pirahna prick.
Piranna pirranah pirahna pirannah piranah PIRANHA! cold caught.
I saw you, you looked away.
White show.
Shoes.
You wore. You looked good. I wrote about you i’ll fish it out of my phone before.
I think it makes a little sense. A little enough. ENOUGHT.
Enufft. Snufffed it. Carked. Croaked. Honk.
The sound the duck made when it died in winter.
We lived in North Hobart. Off Patrick Street.
Patanosta rowe Road? Row?
Anya Row, the hot slippery mess.
Dating an oldie now. Gross, scraggly.
As we all grow old and get wiry.
Bang together. Like gong and mallet.
Lucid. Lippid. List
Lurking Lostra Yil. Surayangatang.
Tan. Veloceraptors. Spell yourself.

Your sleeve. Wiping at the grime of today,
spoiled. Spoing!
Spoilt. The elastic gun fired the slinky into my path and I just watched.
Right.
Righteous.
Wrathful. Piano gamer. When you know all the buttons,
all the moves. And you see them coming. Anything they could do. Maybe. We aren’t all just running in, are we?

That presence of mind to keep punching away. You can’t die.
You are a healer.
Frrrrr- shooo-tuuup-toooop.
GREEN.

Green green greeeen. Light greaan?
Noodle on his head. Fifth Element.
Korby. Kobby-kobe-kobeh my man.
KORBEN DALLAS.

“You’re fired”.
Fire one millior.
-atleast i got free lunch.

It looked like breakfast.
I don’t know.

Chip chip chip chip chip.
Salt. Hot salt.
Liquid salt. Pour it.
Explore.
Gravy.

Synthia. Stuck up.
Gore-gush.
Gorgeous.
Personify. To make a person.
Tear your pants.
Royally cock up.
Fick.
FRREEZE. Rrrrrrrrrrr.

The sad faces on the track,
the resolute nod from walkers.
some familiar, others wayward;
new and questioning.

Today I’m assertive.
I blaze headstrong.
Angry almost if for the lack.
The genuine lack of energy to feel,
express. A moving, innanimate object.

No objections, just witness and obey.
give way, submit ground,
on the ground that the biggest truck
-wins the day.

Wyn is gone.
Is there asian in your family?
Yeah. That explains why you go red.
I suppose I could-
it does?
It does.

The computer shuts down,
winds down, falls asleep,
goes to power saving.
I have a void.
a void inside me.
I need to fill it with things.

I can’t just stay in the relative comfort of my bed.
that’s a crazy thought.
Limit outputs.

Find something useful to do in society.
And they will give you bread.
I think bread is weird because it makes me feel so full.
It makes me feel full without providing my the noutriants,
the sunsainants. NUTRIANTS. NOUTRIENT NUTRIENT oh-yes.
And SUSTINANTS Say it right. rush on, headlong into innaccuracy poetic bare
lost in translation grammatical errors. IT IS REAL.

What if your reality is a truth formed up of elaborate lies.
Thanks for the reminder.
Sustinants Sustain sustinants suss.
Sustinent stain. ck! CK-K-k.
‘uck
Flippedy.

“I said something and It was like you”
i channelled you.
I thought you all left.
I just sat there, wankered.
Wasted.
Waiting.
Leader. Writer, waited.

Where do they go after dinner? They all go home,
they all go home to cry. And worry about the obscurities of a certain
short lived life.
But we have our own perpetual eternity.
we live for our own version of forever.

What about the ineviability of the heat death of the universe?
At eight. I was worried about the sun exploding and killing everyone.
I’m still scared. Gripped with fear.
Fed on it. Grain, ingrained.
Farm, cage, free range. Shooting range.
Ducks and cattle and clay pigeon.
To the slaughter.
Laughter.
Thinkers laugh,
Feelers cry.
I do both,
Well my dear, you’ve got it all.

I hope you’re ok.

Feeling full. Not what the french would say.
That’s perverse. Too graphic.
Not poetic.
take some food.
prendre. Prend, prend, prends, prenons, prenez, prennent, pris? pru, pu, prendu, prendais.
Take take take.
Take the colour, the viatamin, vital min. Mint.
Vitimin, Viatamin, vietnam, vitamin.
Thake. SHake. Shaik.
The queen of the dessert.
Glutton out. Take in. Food. Orgy. Sickness.
Broken and tamed, timid and weak.

Assert yourself on your bicycle.
Foam beard. Smooth skin.
Pray for hot water.
Bless you easy world.
Good life.

Slow turnover period of refuge seekers.
Strange. So blind. Out of the news, policy,
people making THINGS happen.
the roads get made.
the maids, thankyou.
A thankless job.

I like your outfit.
I was going to wear it again.
Don’t bend over.
You’ll see it all.
Bath body.
Warm.

the food, not bread.
Olive bread.
with oil. Warm, ovan. Oven baked.
fresh smelling.
rosemary, thyme, mint.

Rose my mind the the time.
Tied my hind in a bind.
Find my spine by the wing.

Denzel washington is a bad man,
A really good actor in this.
Are you GOING alright?
Yeah well,
good alright,
you beauty.

Make me laugh.
Push that perfect smell out of your mind.
Timing immpeec.
Impeccable.

The history of words.
I need a smart, a wizened old crack to make sense of the world for me.
I would shave my head and wear a robe, just to have a leader, selfless and willing to share. To make sense of this world. To provide for me, to not harm or take anything but what was needed. To take the snakes out of Ireland.
Make the world bullet-less.
-Bullet points.
-bulletins.
-bullys.
-bullshit.
-bulk
-billards.

Balls.
Pool, snooker, sharks.
The rum diaries.
A maid outfit.
Delete that number.
Write down the story about that girl.
I want it.
I want it all.
Describe people you know love. Make that real.
get that program that writes what you say,
so i won’t have to type I can just rant.

Rank brain, onion layers.
Fully explore metaphors.
“LIKE THE OCEAN”
overused. Dead?
Not by far. Re-viewing.
changing.
The heartbeat.
Receeding. Recceeding re-seeding. recceed, receed recced RECED. RECEDED word weird.

The hum, lapping, shoals, tiny barrels, the foamy sound.
warm, wet static. The beach. Sand rolling in the shallows.
No time for building castles.
I remember when you were sick and we stripped down.
Your olive skin.
Wild nights, wild nights.

BAH. recycling. What am I?
Coke? Reduce, reuse, recycle.
One doesn’t effect. AFFECT sales.
More is better? Poor is wetter.
tears and broken umbrella.
Cold kids. The mistake that is free time,
an active mind and the lack of need for basics.
Energy that was otherwise saved up;
reserved. Savings. Find food, get shelter. Protect yourself.
Sleep light. Hunt.
No longer. A mantle? Not even. Nothing but the things we own.

My body, so taken with food.
Laden. Shut me down, wake me when there is a change.
Print out the agenda.
I’ll be back to life soon.
I might be five minutes late,
after a fashion.
Whisper to me- if you can.
show me your intelligence.
be gentle, see me for who I am.
Mirrored in yourself.
picture my eye.

Snap snap snap.
Iris, glow.
Pupil dialed
Ba-bum.
pump pump pump.

FIVE TIMES!
Hah. Remember what breasts feel like?
Shot in the heart.
Cold case.
Food sustain me.
Wake me when there is a change.
I don’t take watch.

Watch is not for me. Not a man of action.
Calibre. Cal-ee-bur.

I bought,
I paid,
Seven dollars.
For reflections.

Stimuli.
Thought creator,
A bat and ball.
For the mind.

I’m in no rush.
I am in no hurry.

Fifteen minute wait on seafood paella?
I think I’ll give that a miss.

I am in no rush to be alone.

Bob died, years ago. Hung himself.
Eloise this weekend. Hung herself.
I read up on suicide last year.
It fascinates me and it makes me weep.
I’m studying economics at the moment.

Rhys asked if I was ok.
-I’m angry and i’m confused.
I feel like an idiot.
I’m missing something here.
Why do people do it?

I’m a strong believer in people having versions of themselves.
The Tasmanian version.
Travelling when you’re depressed.
Insightful, healthy, active, challenging, adventurous.
A metaphorical suicide.
Re-invent yourself. MOVE

But no. Life is too hard.
You’ve experienced the good times and SOMEHOW, despite the good;
people get caught up. Stuck in a rut. Bang their head against a bad idea-
long long long, day and night. Brain damaged, they get this wild idea to end their suffering. Don’t worry about other people around you. Its a choice.
Is it a choice? Do we actively choose to live every day?

So let me get this straight. Your mum and dad, they created you.
Your mother carried you around inside herself, feeding you with her own body.
You are born. A beautiful little cherrub. You are raised.
I wonder how suicide fits in with the nature vs nurture debate.
All the trouble society went to, the late nights your parents had to endure, sunken eyes, changing your diapers, kissing your soft newborn scalp. “shh-shhh-shhh, singing lullabies, reading you books, feeding you, giving you shelter, training you, watching you grow, learn to walk, talk, tumble”. And for what.
This opportunity squandered.

Blessed are you, in a society that creates (with machines!) a thread for you to hang yourself with. Spend your life trying to weave together a noose. You morons. You are given this glimmer. What do you know that the survivors don’t?
You know quiet. You go blank. You taste the chemicals your brain releases when you die. You see the light. You are high.

So wrong. Life’s struggle. A bastard of sadness and unjust tragedy, and you, you add to the survivor burden. You stand in the middle of the good vs bad see-saw. You walked from: good—v—-bad
and you jumped at the middle. Suspeneded and hanging for all to see.
We lost another good one today.
Chemical imbalance. Dad said coke is to blame. Out bodies are PH neutral, tending towards alkaline. Coke is acidic. People get this imbalance from the chemicals they put in their body. What a crazy theory.

Megan said; “when my best friend hung himself, I worried that other friends of mine would do the same”.
I’m happy I talked to her. She shared a lot that night. I walked and listened.
Unsure of so much of the relevance. She made forget my pledge of black clothing. We went to the beach, I swam, played catch, talked and kissed, I dove in the water, practiced headstands. I was entertained. I was not depressed, I was busy. And I wore blue. Not black. All blue. I applied for a new job. I hadn’t eaten enough, my brain felt like a dry sponge. In the wrong hands I could have turned to dust.
I went home from the library and ate. I didn’t give suicide much thought.
But here I am at the computer. Computing. Thinking. Writing.
There was a service for El today, I didn’t have the heart to go.
A heap of people, society, feeling sad.
Looking for closure? All that emotion. I want to hug each and every one.
I want to share stories, I want everyone to be ok.
But she left us, she chose. The ultimate individual, selfish, lone wolf,
confused, pointless, worthless, waste of beautiful, unique life.
Grief mongering, poisonous, reckless, poorly thought out, destructive, gut wrenching, turmoil that isn’t in the deck of cards when you start the game of life. Its not on the six sided dice. There is no chance. And so before you go: I wish I could have asked why. Are we still going to go out for that coffee?
No, no we never will. Why did you say that?

Closure? NONE. Uncomfortable, grief stricken vultures. We pick our way through life’s little morsels and deal with these horrible events how we can.
All that confused thought.
The difference between how men and women choose to kill themselves.
Pills, Hanging, Jumping, Drowning, Shooting, Carcrash, Warm baths & cold razors.
“You are poisoned, you are confused, you needed help, I wish this were not so”.
There are so many of you out there, that “MOOD”.
:I’ve thought about it. We all have. But you never would. Would you?
If you can think it, if you can dream it. Impossible is nothing, right?

Turn those sporting or motivational on their heads.
Lets talk about suicide. Even saying it cheapens it.
Why are we all afraid? Because its a taboo.
What makes you sad enough to think it?
Why would YOU do IT?
Can it be helped that we get sad?
Do we need the sad to feel good?

Like all things, our mode of communication; its very basic is having direct and opposing understandings of things. Black and white. Good and evil. Hot and cold.
Alive and dead. Some are more real than others. I’ll let you guys ask the dead their opinion. I think logic goes out the window. Words are distant.
The feeling. The trance of the ill-feeling. Needs to be broken by those close at hand. A stranger, a lover, a friend. Where are they when suicide is happening.
Can we talk about this? Why am I so confused. How does suicide, the action and its reasons raise such an abhorrent question mark. It makes me angry. That you’re gone makes me sad, but I wasn’t there when you needed me.
Is it a tragedy? Did you want this? Surely this is a sick joke.
Were you lonely? Is depression just boredom? Where were you on the spectrum.
Were you sad because you’re felt happy in the past?
When did you last smile?
What was your last word?
How many breaths in a day?

I in
– out
I in
– out

You don’t care.
You are gone. And no-one will remember you in 100 years. Not one single person (I don’t think). That’s a tragedy. That’s a sadness of time.
This is what you make me think of.
Suicide sickness.

Funerals? I wouldn’t be caught dead at one of those.
Its a memorial…

To pass through,
Life. Window pane
Touch, living you
Talk with Dane.

Fill that space
Rife the pain
Smile fleet face
Splashed with rain

Rubbed dry
Smeared my thumb
Feeling high
Cold streaked numb

Reach the end
Finished the glass
Down we wend
Tied to mast.

Captain and first
Bubble and burn
The drinker’s thirst
Spurned, sinking stern

Knife in side
Strife it rises
Rifts, grow wide
Gift no disguises

She knows what
All be told
Blood boils hot
Old flows cold.

I saw you alone in a lot of photos. What could I have possibly known that to mean. Jaz.

Tragedy.
You want to buy her flowers.
She says roses are cliché.
You think to buy her lilies,
But they make her think of funerals.
So you buy her hydrangeas, you love the smell.
You buy them for her every day.
Until one day.
One day the house smells of lilies.

John Armstrong – Philosopher, the book of life. Glasgow born. Studied at Oxford.
A successful man by many-an-account. Great! Talks like a chess player. Knows the history of many words. Willing to share ideas, and teach. If things were different?
If he’d spent his time playing the Decks? Following his passion for electro-music:
The Dj. J.AMSTRONG. Philosopher DJ. Open the book of life. Dance for what you believe in. Dance because it matters. Action.

Truancy – Constant Absenteeism.
“I have a truancy problem” I don’t understand how that was brought up and/or funny. Rowan?

And I wish you knew; to have ever lived is not a fault as much as it is true.

Because life; life is french bread.
Write it down. Pain.

Toe-nails? Ah! A great feet of evolution.

Current romance? Its like toast. We all like our bread buttered a bit differently.
Some sweet, some savoury, a mix! Minimal. Overwhelming. Dark, light, seedy.
Fruit.

Raps and rhymes, lick your lips; walk the line of homosexual positives, complement battles, you are on Extacy – “Give him a Mackerel” (I told you this would happen)

“My Brilliant Career” – what was this? March 3rd 2016. 12:02.

BRUCE SPRINGSTEIN: 3rd march 2016 10:04

The smoking generation spurs from the uncomfortable silence.
You must be rushed. Quick. Bing-bang-bong. Smoke, drag, talk, move, fidget.
No deep thought. Mindless. Edgy. Not contemplative.
“its a race, a race for us to die”.
The gift of life. Gendered said dad. “Men smoke because they’re idiots.”
Women “because they want to be dangerous, because they are concerned with their figure”
-bullshit Dad.
Headspin! Pollution, kills you, costs money, early death, reduces enjoyment of life, exercise capabilities reduced. Bad skin, rank breath, lips, hands, lungs, eyes. You’re body is the sleeping beehive. The honey that is your lifeforce, stolen.

Are there more beds than people in this world?
Are there more books?
Are there more words than people?

Toilet philosophy.
Go deep,
Too deep, small things.
Traffic lights.
Red Man philosophy. – you stop, you wait, you think, you observes: Yourself and others. How do you conduct yourself? How do you stand. How will you cross the road, who presses the button? How hard? How many times. What if there’s no traffic? Do you just cross. Do you J-walk? JAY-WALK(?) spelling.
The bogan – stops oncoming traffic.
The oriental – dodges between oncoming cars and trucks
The impatient – runs
The majority – wait, observe, wonder.

The steppers just before the green man.
The dodging between, weaving in and out of oncoming people from the other side of the lights. The head down, shrunken shoulders. The chest out, proud. Straight lines.
Where are they all going. Why did that man run? What is so important? Was that a risk? Will he arrive on time? What is the outcome? Action -> result?
If he took 2 minutes longer, what would be the effect and the affect.
He could have used that time to better explain his lateness. Jolly good.

Dear, dear dear dear me.
Its part of my spoken language.
Get me out there.
No no no no nono.
Silly, fool, oh no, damn, oops, uh-oh.
Rife with trouble.
Your thinking is wrong.
Laden, slanted. Off, incorrect, lacking.
Maybe. Dear, dear dear me.

Today i’ll apply for a casual job. Greed drives.

You asked me how to spell words for you; that made me raise an eyebrow.
Its true, you are dyslexic after all. You follow patterns. If you can remember, surely you can remember words. Memory scrambled. Curious.
“how do you spell special”. Well my dear. How do I spell it indeed.

I clenched my jaw,
I ground my teeth.
I had something on my mind.

Today I had a big breakfast,
Food is fuel, is the energy you have for that day,
Is a smile, is patience, is the will to accept and to to think clearly.
Logically I can make no different there.

Canada at the end of the month.
A black month.

Wash my face,
Brush my teeth,
Ride to class,
Read, write, discuss.

The whole day.
-Apply for jobs,
Study, write characters.

Book stores.
A quite time of year.
I would like a cup, a cup of tea. Constant tee.
“Constanteenople”

Constant tee no people.

A LA PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICHES.
Thankyou Count.