to does, it really does. Feel like weeks.
Coming home tonight and thinking to myself, word document or notepad, pat, diary? Oh yeah a new diary. But writing it down there, you are too lazy to find it again. It just sits next to your bed until the next day, then you fill it in; and move on. Forgetting, forgetting, forgetting.

Toilet philosophy.
every time, standing at the urinal. Any one person with a need, thought or want visits this spot. The spot where we drain. Drain and forget. And think.
I think a lot in the bathroom. Or atleast I feel I do.
New thoughts, overthoughts, weird and wonderful.

“do you ever wonder where we all go after dinner”
“the go home, alone by whatever means their mood”
and they cry. They cry because they are dying and even in someones arms,
With the surgeon clutching your beating heart. You die. Alone.

The energy ran flat.
that beautiful blonde. Bombshell.
Will deflected that wonderful young lady.
Hugo porking in the park.
Hidden shhh

my ride home.
what were those fruit.
My food choices. Ripples though me. But on what molecular level.

Can these basic models be taught to me,
Can I understand more? Is it so simple? Is it maths?

what can my choices, decisions and actions do?
Is it possible to trace what I do?
Will someone see that bottle of wine?
Later down the track, history’s echo?

Take off those high heels. Straight out the door,
of society. You poor girl. Fake it.
Fake it tonight, walk walk walk.
But yeah, fake it.
we all are don’t worry.
Don’t worry you aren’t.

Ask police questions.
“aren’t I O.K?”
“Can’t a man walk by himself in peace?”
questions that answer themselves.

standing around in a bar, looking looking.
Action!

the one goal.
Mobius renovations.
Missed it.
DJ going.

Red
Red.
Water.

Peanuts!

Can you trace my movements like those in the snow?
Can’t you even see atoms?
With my yoga stance head well and truly up my medicinally minded be-hind.

Do you recall the way that molecular structure turned..
turned… and went, like so. Do you rememeber? No

Like me, and my actions.
Film? For how long. Written down? HOW LONG.
Degredations. Dust.
All will be dust.
Spend some time, tucked away in that corener, live it breathe it become friends and mortal enemies. Clean, dirty, the path. the stones underneath your seat. Where you are sat. The mood, the feelings that take you. As stars, wheel over head. And the brightest endures, just stands alone. Twinkling.

THOSE those feelings, that you get, flowing thought you. The ebb.
That’s not you, not coming from you. The ground, that spot. The mood.
your present

HEADACHE. just then. .Stwang. Agg,. I’ll live. HAhaha
Hi maddy.
Luke? that guys.
Liam.
LUKE LIAM. Names names names.
Smiles. Grins loud noises.
Good to see you anyway. Always got time for you and your gang.
Big big love.
There he was working at the what. The grocery store?
Holding two pineapples?
I mean shit. There he is, selling the fuck outta that place.
He’s a hospitality king. Sam. Gem.

So you can’t trace your movements. Free. Petty theft.
Free. Unwatched. Drones?
moans.

Massage
yoga.
Spines, teaching water hot fit dance dance boogie like you just wanted to wombatlike old times with old gangs witness full of dance life and lights squinting hats off boat shoes kicking coats unbuckled dropletts forming creases creaks knees and arms swinging waving wildly awesome colours squint giggle chuckle laugh even. Mean it! And dance, spin and link arms if you please. Miss that girl in the big boots that isn’t there and just feel the flow, the base the only cactus in the room with its arms up. Everyone else slouched over a chain or table. Drinks on me. Said the floor. Lets laugh and admitt we’re all here wasting time. Gleefully.
I’m an artist I owe it too myself to learn music. Where do you draw the line. I’d like to get involved in all of these. I might become a teacher. Noble enough practice. Not in Australia, no travelling with that. You haven’t committed enough. BECOME A TEACHER. or just become learnered. Leant, learned, leant, leaned upon. I know knot. Scream and shout.
Shakespeare? Really do you think I could do that. What happens when terror grips you? How will the mood GRIP you. The gripper. I can be coaxed. I freely say. And it kills me. Why did I say that. Why did I do that. Why why why.
Are there more people in the world than there are in the english language?
How about English speakers vs the words in the language of english.

Maybe if we all shout one word we’ll come up with a fun answer to this life.
If there are more people, maybe there will be overlapp and the important people and the sentance, following the one true pattern, the lights, will lead us there. To understanding, ultimate. don’t end arguments in ultimates.
sorry.

If there are more words than people, lets keep having children to fill the words, create a new name. Reflect the current times.
Dig the moment.
Be aware that any negative thoughts spur from the grey area of your mind that is boredom or want for something.
Unless you find yourself asking “why did they do that”
“why did it say that”

Then you are in my clear.

“IF YOU SPEAK TOO MUCH YOU ARE AN IDIOT”. – Russian Lady.

Life advice. Life lie life life life life.
Apply it all over. Exam life, cram life. Live life,
function however you please. Treat others kindly. Have a great time.
meet beautiful people. Cause trouble. Havoc
Get your troop out there and be Jack.
Kerouac
NOT PHIL
NOT DOUG.
What was his name.
Keeeeeeaaaaaaaerouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuwwwwwwack

Neil Cassedy. I will follow your story.
Beat as hell, park your car. Lets have a good time.

My legs hurt.
Why? I flew from Tasmania to Sydney, to Cairns to Melbourne to Hobart. In 12 days. The distance has seeped in. Unreal distances to have travelled. Planes. Plain easy.

My head is cloudy.
I’m off coffee, i’m flat.
Family is a hurt. A poorly stitched wound.
My girlfriend is off, coloured by her best chilhood friend hanging himself. How can I respond, feel or react.
“Let’s make the best of a bad thing”
What? What would they have wanted.
The suicidal, the selfish.
The violence against ones ego. “Self”
Punishment to the extreme.
Its innate, a viewpoint. Your own life,
How could this blessing be such a rapid for you.
Must you come to a close so soon?
The comedy begins before your character dies.
Before the curtain comes down, like a guillotine.

Hush. You are gone,
Over. Your action is our memory.
What about valentines day?
Its over, move on.
What about the suicide?
What do I fucking say, think, or do about that?!

Cry to that song.
I’ll laugh.
Hysteria bubbling away.
Eating away inside me.
The dancing.
Such disorder; drinking myself brain dead.
The pain,
Recklessly pounding around inside me.
When can I say: -Phew- its over.
Close one. Such malcontent.
The pain should stay or go.
Sick around?
Drink it away.

What will i feel in the morning?

A perfect finish to my cousin catchup.
Met Therese, the home owning, religious lover of chris.
Christopholis.
Christ.
On the last day, climbed a hill, red arrow walk- through a bamboo forest. We looked out over the airport. t had a coffee. She was buzzing.
“Breathing helps lose weight”- fasciniating. Please don’t go on.

Went to the local outdoor pool. Amazing, favourite sorta thing.
“Makes me want to play the bongo drums”

The falls the day before,
Home made booze,
Saw an eel,
Did some cliff jumping,
Talked waaaay too much.

Driving around was easy.
Got the worst massage of my entire life.
Valentines day tomorrow; gotta suss it out.
BIANCA Paine’s birthday as well,
The run ROC challenge, should. Be good, just need footwear.
And St Kilda Fest! Rad.
Back in my home town.
Excited

Well! How are ya?
Yeah well.
You?
Well, Quite well.
Well enough.
Just well?
Well… Yeah.
Well then.
Yes. Well.
Which well, a deep well?
A dry well.
Well.
Well, well.

How’s the weather?
Its good depending on whether the weather you weather on a daily basis is what you’re used to.
Its a perspective question.
Whether or not its warm or hot in store-
comes down to what you’ve felt before.

Its warm in the shallows,
If you get deep its cold.
Its a metaphor for my love.

Hateful 8- domergu.
Novel character.

The word veneration. Resounding.

Lemming-ton. As the choc-coconut jumps off the cliff.

The 6 best doctors:
Sleep
Sunshine
Food
Water
Exercise
Laughter

Carr-art. Whiteboard. Flippy chart. Carrot on a stick, for writing with.

“Hey babe. Meet up later for that dried piece of fruit?”
Date…

“QUITE SOMETHING” – strange expression.

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes let’s.

Speaking in prose.
Take it away
Take it away
I burnt my tongue
No more taste for today.

I made flatwhite yesterday… Simple.
Just doing something simple like making coffee.
Not proper coffee.
-I watch that cunt recoil. Realise what he’s said. Backpeddle. Suddenly aware of himself, running his mouth. Being an idiot, unappreciative. Foolish.
“oh, blend 43. Nescafe”.
-Too late; you’ve hurt my feelings.
Why am I so tender. My exterior is unphased, but they pick up the organic hatred. My tendrils, my awareness, the recognition, though I don’t stop looking-ing onwards, past all of them.
Why did he say that.
His brain let him down. It let me down. He wasn’t thinking. Just running his mouth, we all do that.
So the sting, truly was something else. Something I was obviously feeling/thinking before that moment.
All these people, their lack of understanding and puss-appreciation has made me feel shallow, worthless and a gimmick. What is the point of what I’m doing, is it unique? Not so much. Does it make me feel alive? Or special? Not recently.
have I met new and exciting people. THe conversations stimulating. Nay.

Strange that it should be brought up in my life? (not really). Coffee is a common THING. here, there, everywhere. Stop bring so fucking precious.

What would you say to mum?
Stay with her?Cramp her style, the slimy introverted hermit.
The idiot genius.
Drinking? That’ll kill you. Spotted liver, Quincy jones won’t let that bubble of logic put a lid on this course [of logic]. The healthy roll of fat that I’ve earnt, earned from a lifestyle befitting my house. Charmed. Chin-ups occasionally. But rarely do I raise above the level. This truism stands for all. Out calling. The mantle of humanity, our humility. Him hum hum hummmmmmm. Me A Shingles. The thing, thong passed on. Fabric of speech is stretched and misunderstood. The lack of control Outside our ow, sometimes unfamiliar bodies. Movements uncontrolled. Whip that boy. Let me do up that button for you. The lack of precision in my nimble fingers. The gal ability- fallibility of it all! Spelling, fingers, vocab, auto-correct, send, undo, grammar, perfect speech and cover-station. Convo. For what? -The train story-
Caboose.
This is all your misunderstanding of my perfect.
PerfectWHAT!

Mum, your drinking will kill you.
Your mindset.
Does what you do, make you happy?
Will it make you live longer?
Do you fear the train, of thought?
Drink, smoke.
Fair is fair.
Whole some
Whole
Hole.

I just wanted to blow off steam.
Smoke coming out of my ears.
Chugga-chug-chug.

If looks could kill.
I’d look.
and look and look.

Dumb thought: The relationship you have with your parents can only be had by “you”.
Everyone is different.
-mind you (but) your insights are unique & different – child.

Only kids know how their parents truly are at home.

How can humanity be a final form.
Our minds, our vocabulary are limited. Our focus; incapable of numerous vasteties of the universe. (so you believe in the universe?) I believe in the stars!

What’s the benefit of leaving behind a mantle of success?
Is it possible in life to sow more than you reap?

So what? Sow life.
“All tattoos are the same”

Cab we all try to distinguish ourselves from eachother, please.
Explore our unique-ness. The niceties and our ignorances. *ignorences-spelling.

Don’t look dogs in the eye. It means you are threatening. Dominant.
With cats it means you are aware and submissive.
Weird.

Share your observations and truisms. Re-live your day babe.
Tell me what you did and saw, all your senses. IN FACT.
State them, as clearly or poetically as you can. I want to hear you say it; like it were true.
Are lies another reality?
Are your topic changes worthwhile?

Her vagina was cavernous.
Like throwing a tic-tac down a hallway.
Like dipping a biscuit in hot tea.
Like dropping a goldfish by the tail, into a pond.
“Boep-Boep”.

Its great that you can go to sleep in a bad mood and wake up feeling great.
Waking up, remembering something important and being resolute can be difficult.

A kiss, an offhand statement. What resonates can be anything.

After laughing-
Her to me: “People ask me why I like you”
Her to me: “And that was it. That moment”

What a strange comment I thought. Though, it was a compliment. The more I think about it the more self aware I became and the less I felt like that was a relationship scuttling thing to say. (I have an entire santa sack of those, but I hold others in higher regard).

Note: THEKETTLEISUNPLUGGED

Your vocab-
is telling.

Question: Does being a homosexual make you feel happy?

Thought: You can only take photos of the past.

Let the moment flow through you. Allow yourself a memory, don’t think about the past. Consider your actions and the influences that they will have but don’t get ensnared in your future. The fears and shackles that come with such things turn you ghostly.

DTF.

Down to fuck?
Drink to forget.

My mind has been crippled with societal thinking. Too broad. They make me sad.
Why must I entertain such ideas. Alas, Alack.
Tragic sentiment on my part. So much time shuffled, stored, sniped, spooned and squandered. How else? -I wonder.

Memory is a strange old thing.
Its the warden of your functioning mind and body.
You can’t feel all the pain you’ve ever felt. The body forgets, it heals, it carrys on. The mind, fickle, forgetful, wonderful.
Remember all the bad things you say… Remember all the good.
Laughing with hysterics constantly? What kind of life is that.
You’d wear out fast. Thank god for the rose tinted filter. The grey,
The black, the white, the chalkboard erased. Only the fait lines of yesterday much less yester-year. Faint faint faint.
Pass out. Zonk out. Don’t drudge up pld memories. Nobody is impressed. Your memory. Its the past. Passed by, endured. Learn if you can. Make new memories. It will get better. And soon other people will count on you.

Remember yesterday. Tell me tomorrow. Just how awkward it was.

Why would you do this to yourself?
Setting an example to others, as to what not to be.
We suppose you think you’re smart.
But can you keep it up? You’re killing yourself. But change is up to you.
And you alone. People want things from you. But yield not.
Why wont you change, for yourself. For how the image you surround yourself and others is a pit-fall. Filler with darkness and madness. I can’t understand. And so my anger rises. And the tendrils will whip, destroy and lash. They are a disiease. You are dying, and spreading. We are afraid.

Half a liver.
Swollen joints.
Hospital, detox.
The spark gone-
From sunken, tired or confused eyes.
Mumble your mumbo jumbo.
Nonsense! Strike you down.
These scars I will bear.
Because you, the love you’ve given; runs deepest.
How can I repay you. Why are you doing this to me.
Why won’t anyone talk about this.
I’m afraid.
I’m so angry.
Help.
Someone.
Help yourself.

Its obvious.
Mental health and its connection to physical health.
Fuel for a good life.
Consistent life.
A diet that changes.
A person that changes.
We are so so so
“sososososososo” – japan
Fickle. On the move,
something in the wings.
Changing.
For good and bad.

Everything is not alright.
Alcohol won’t numb the pain of that fact.
Pain is inevitable
Suffering is optional.

Encountering suffering will contribute to the elevation of your spiritual practice,
provided you are able to transform the calamity and misfortune into a (the) path.

Walk down that path.
The pain is but one of the many stones.
Its grit.
Its black ice.
Its a boulder for you to clamber over.
You walk above it.
Mind and body.
Travers your suffering.
Embrace the pain.

Avoid the snapshot of life.
You aren’t frozen.
Your will must endure,
Be resolute, and understand that once you have achieved you must continue to do so; otherwise become recumbent. Slack. Sloth. Slobbish.
Endure, stay strong, treat yourself.

Jon, Happy 29th. We’re growing old together aren’t we. “FURROUT!” Racing through life.
Let’s be, shall we.
Be happy.
Oui
See and Si.

What do you get Melbourne’s most eligible bachelor.
A balloon ride?

“But Mister! I wanted a red balloon” *pop*

Now for sushi with papa. Deep, dark discussions ahoy.

And then exchange. Organise! Plan plan PLAN.