The light’s have faded.
The sun gone.
Clouds impose themselves.
And like this distorted brightness
My mood is fade.

Next year’s exchange idea is glumly hanging.
Floppish. Gnarled and limp.
I wish to travel, learn in an environment.
Live in a share house, be immersed in the French language.

Tough times for you Patrick
I guess you’ll have to be patient and focus a little harder.
Work a little more at your idea.
If you really wanted it you’d jump though hoops.

I do.
I will, I promise and guarantee.
Next year I want something different.
I want change.

I can’t commit to this face anymore.
This guise.
The exhaustion present under the lids of my eyes.
I wish to be lean,
Raw.
Naked and exhausted in bed.

Energised by new people.
Beat!
Digging life in a world of contrasting light.

I want new rocks under my feet.
I will the be germ that has travelled the globe.
To see and feel and experience.
Who are you to implicate these barriers?
I will triumph against your yellow tape of organisation.

The human condition;
To drive to new heights compels me.
You think only the olympics is for athletes?
I will high-jump,
Hurdle, sprint, slide, push and pull  myself to new and different ways of living.
This year is halfway done. each moment dividing itself.
And with the passing, my mind turns.

The obligation, the white-ness of my soul looks out over the seas and hopes.
“Tahiti blue”- you bet. I’m coming.
Its true.
I’m coming. I promise.
I guarantee.

Saw Mitch today.
Study was good.
Eating wayy too much at the moment.
Putting away money makes you fat I have decided.
Some kind of work/stress/time to yourself/time on your feet/imbalance.

I don’t know what it is.
I hate being tired.
I like being in a rush?
NO I DONT.
I dislike it.
I think having to talk is pathetic.
I think oversharing is cactus.
Bullshit, vomit.
I believe that speech has changed online.
We are  in a new age.
Have we changed so much?
Can this new generation have the intellectual and “modern” thinkers that we have had in the past?
Woolf drowned herself in a lake. Stones in the pocket.
My god!
Ugly. Shallow-ness.
What is suicide? Does it define us?
Does the possibility of suicide make us all potential existentialist?
In its consideration can the duality exist.
Can you change this condition?
Is there anyone out there that SHOULD commit suicide?
What are the circumstances?
When someone stops contributing to the world?
When they are a drain?
When the joy of their life is null.
The goal of life is happiness, is turned away from.

What does this piqued persona reveal.
Who are the victims of suicide?
Is it the flipping of a coin and rolling a zero?
Is the problem labelled by us, the same as it is in “their” mind?
Can our group think possibly influence their outcome?
Could all of us make the change?
Is suicide was an all-powerful threat…
If, therein human life was truly given ultimate worth.
What do WE do? How can we protect others, ourselves, and this person from this feeling of want, need and ultimate finality before their time.
Is the shutting down of someone’s operating mind, though physical execution a choice?
“BAD CHEMICALS”
The body feeds the mind, the mind tells the body what it wants.
Fresh fruit and vege. Meat. Salts, sugars, fats. You are what you eat.
Varied. Regulated. Consistent. Changing. Seasonal. Green. Yellow. Red. Blue. Liquid.
Snacks. Small. Inadequate. Whatever it may be. Your mind can kill you if you don’t treat your body right.
Your body can give up. Your body can break. Be careful in your mind. Be smart with your body.
Push limits. The limits of your mind. Your brain is a muscle; its complex and needs to be trained.
What can you train your brain to do? What can you get away with saying?

If you would like to be healthy.
If you would like to stay strong.
Choose and feed yourself.
Choose how you occupy your mind.
Feel the difference of your decisions.
Feel the different stages.
Be mindful of changes
Be aware of the demands of others.
Make the black and white calls.
Make your own experience.
Stay alive as long as your natural body allows.
Take advantage of this wonderful possibility.
Then compost.

Australian politics goes for the re-shuffle again.

French was fun today.
Felt strong, good looking, energised.

Then crashed. Rode home, knee was sore.
Ate and ate and ate.
Made rice pudding.
Tried to make plans.
Got organised. Looked for any drastic double booking/crossovers.
Safe.
The busy week starts now. I’m pretty cracked though.
Feel like energy is leaking outta my head.
How do I fix this.
Feeling fat.
Coma oncomming.
So much work, study, to be done.
My thoughts,
THOUGHTS
Not words, ideas, in form. Associations.
They may as well be colours.
They don’t exist in your head.
When you effect, or affect (who fucking knows)
a change, from your thoughts to reality you’re making a difference.
I get that.
But the associatioin of a word.
Makes for everything you say, to be ambigous.
I remember thinking that nothing is important.
The only way you can effect change is by actions and communication.
However, by abstaining from that train of thought you allow yourself to be free from want and need to enact change. Therefore clearing yourself,
your waking consious from the conceeded postmodern material efforts that surround us today.
Buy hermitting yourself socially you nullify any impact.
Could you perhaps, (be more true to yourself).
Live life how you would [normally].
and subtley effect the world around you?
What instigates change from the base to the superstructure?

Who allows for us to define times to modernity and postmodernity?
Could post modernity be simply materialist?
Was there really a crisis or “turning point” in representation?
With the modern world. Indeed just being another word for current.
And the current, having undergone change being accepted.
Then the norm having changed. Means that our stream of conscious collectively has re-aligned.
How can you define time as being different, ideas as being different, people fighting* (doing) different things. Just to be different. Being experimental.
People always have. That is the nature of our diverse species.
The urbanisation of people means that our busy lives and denoted towards comfort.
And comfort is a killer of outward creativity.
like nesting. The effects on the mind are like a shark having gorged itself on too much food.
There is a stasis, a docile quality – this content that everyone strives to achieve is barely recogniseable due to further natures within the humane persona. Enlivened by our own vague words. “Things” need doing. always.
Interpret how you will.
We are continuous. The brackets surrounding social life. And our own need to group and organise thoughts as they occur is a deep lying conceit of our own awareness.
We struggle to look inwards. Beyond the cover of our own book. We believe we have chapters.
We posit that the text is journalistic. Written by us, for us.
I think not. I think we are becomming more confused and have yet to attain a true picture of “where we are”.

If earth was a piece of coal.  How long will it take us and our ideas to transform our own realm into a diamond. Could it be that we never will and that our future rests in our own self immolation.

I rest my case by the door of the cafe. And hope there some answers and some interesting ideas to be scrabbled through in the not so distant future, before now is bracketed, and uncommunicably different, estranged and wild a thought. Bastardised and monacle’d over; right down the path.

Bianca Payne.
Enviable.
Organised. Something humanity does.
The proactive human condition. Co-ordinating movements and information.
She’s something else. She is number one for me. On the podium.
I admire so many things about her. Her drive, attitude and good nature.
Today was splendid.
Wayyy la-much sunshine.
Exhaustion.

Saw Bec.
Had black coffee.
Had a fresh OJ.

Saw Ben.
Talked opportunites.
Talked knees.

What is it with people showing phone videos?
What is it with snapchat, pictures?

Who wants to know?
Who cares?

Where is your poetic licence?
Where is the story telling, picture painting, all encompassing, moment capturing?

I shared my time saving idea.
I lost my words, but explained how humanity marks improvements.

Reading about modernism and the marked changes that have happened throughout its time period.

Is postmodernism just consumerism?

Is the grouping of these movements/marked changes just the human conditions furthermore organising and grouping? Like calling a group of people flappers or hipsters or scene kids or whatever?

Modernism, politics of sex and gender, modern living! Cars & Communication are updated. An observation of the human condition; undergoing great change. But time is continuous. What’s changed? Are we SO modern? That we become ‘post’ that. Post-modernity. Therefore, we can look back. Can we look inwards?

Can we look at ourselves in a glass case?
What does faulkner suggest? What does the dead woman represent? What do words mean? Are words inherently poetic? Does art offer an opportunity to represent a thing, that then changes either through word attachment and therefore change what the word means/ our own understanding?

Freud. Subconcious word association = WILD.
Read some heavingly heavy stuff today. Gotta reboot.

Wrote out the invitations for the party!
Gotta study more, and organise exchange and such. ZUG ZUG.

Tinder. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.

Hung out with friends today in the sun.
Watched “The World’s End”. Simon Pegg, Nick Frost. Classic.
A little to think about. Dramatic change in movie style mid-way through.

Work this week,
See Bec Hart.
Hopefully catch up with Bianca Payne.
Gotta crunch out some Uni. My god I do.
Had the best kick in the sun today.
One touch game, Volley Game, 3 v 3.
Good times. Ate some fruit.
Bought some reisling and figs and cheese and almonds and dates.
lavish.
Played Cambio with Wil, Sol, Jaz. It was great.
Lots to think about and look forward to.
Positive headspace.

Where would I begin with you?
I hold you at arms length.
I cannot break down those doors.

Remembering when I kissed you,
-now you text me asking what more.
Its all changed, the calls different.
There is no longing, i’m content,

Most of the time, i’m happy.
Peaceful, pleasant to think quietly –
or otherwise, in the bustling.
Thinking my own thoughts.

Forced or fluid. Giving looks,
judging, applying what I see, think, hear and feel.
I wonder if fucking makes you stupid.
The stories, sicken me.
Contact, irrational.

You touch your leg, are you anxious?
I feel like it weirds me out a little.
There are others, I’m objectified.
I wonder what you say in your mind.
I give you blank stare, I spread gaze over you,
Not cool, not calculated or confident.
I am null. Inert. I do not add or subtract
I do exist, but I merely reside.
Why must I crack ice? I am not warm nor cool.
Though your fallen exterior smarts at my lack of movement.
Must I be the friction that melts all?
Should my breath be the warm air,
The addition that melts your heart.

Fuck.

I ride, I put in the effort.
I take on sugar, I ruin myself.
I worry, and miss what I should truly be doing.
I should be selfish. I am. Aren’t I?
Is this a tug of war?
Why cant I win?
Why is there this personality,
Does my persona change.
What are my clothes saying.
Their meaning: tonight.

I need to shower.
To rest, to get better.
I want love.
To sit cross legged, watch the pools of your eyes.
As you breathe in and out
As you dehydrate under the bright sun.
Your eyes twinkle and your minds turns.
Intricate or heavy handed. Thoughts in form.
Formed and spat, spouted, posited, mulled, chewwed,
regurgitated, torn, misaligned.
Share with me. Everything.
As your voice talks,
Your mind becomes unplugged and you reveal your turmoil and your bias and the conflict.
Within.
Show me.
Sit with me and share,

And in doing so. Love me.
And I will love you.
Us. Shared

A gent today referred to girl I know, she’s a little bit of an air-head. “You can’t put brains in monuments”.
That’s a great line I think.

I gotta buy some ghost drops!

Friar Tuck; “Dry old fuck” haircut style.

The past is the past.
Physical / Remembered / Idealised.
Is exercise pointless?
Does this cause fluctuations in the present?
What are the direct outcomes, globally.

Recent past vs distant past.
All builds
Your story.
Relevance, recountable?
As things grow older.

Becoming less important?

Types of communication:
Questions
Suggestions
Greetings
Farewells
Answers
Propositions
Jokes
Noise
Phone calls*
Verbal
Non-verbal

Do you think the water poured from a recently boiled kettle sounds different to water poured from the same kettle, but the water HASN’T been boiled. Can you HEAR boiled water? What changes?

People’s impatience! Seeking gratification because of social needs, aspected to higher standards set in the past? E.G: World Records. Rippling through the “now”. Calling people from the car, cramming your day. Hardly being present. Prioritising. Just consuming, moving, spinning, swirling. Eating, drinking a whirlwind of washing and wanting. Waiting is wasting. Waste from each of us a splinter in need of a cure. Aggravated, we continue. Like time stringent sea monkeys. Junkies for action. Need for stimulation. Pointless, thoughtless forms. Wanting, but what. Shall we talk about it? How do you communicate? Choose your path.

Full day of work tomorrow.
I’ve pushed through a lot lot worse.
I don’t even know why i’m building it up.
Maybe just to procrastinate.
Perhaps to highlight the fact that its a choice.
And it should be a hard choice.
I should struggle.
There were other plans made.
I put others on the back burner.
My gains are mundane.
Fiscal.
I have homework. It’s due tomorrow at mid-day.
Tonight I will study,
Write,
Proof,
Finish.
Tomorrow will be a day of work.
Loads of coffee.
Perspiration.
Inspiration, to know that I could have passed up that opportunity.
But chose otherwise.
I will achieve greatly tomorrow in my own right.
Cramming as much into the day.
Not feeling tired or lazy for choosing.
I will be strong. I will be ok.

Work,
Life,
Doing it all.
Has worn me thin.
Moth eaten.
Jaded? Faded.
Raided.
Pillaged and plundered.
Bed now.
In a rose bush of thoughts about my future.
Collapsing,
Clogged.
Please hush.
Outside and inside.
Blank! Go blank!
Mind the blank.
The step between here and the platform of rest.
Rest eternal.
Life is getting you ready for spending a long time like this.

Find someone I can plague.
When I find them.
To bounce off.

Shut up!

Your brain fills in the blanks.
Like, you look at the clouds. And you see pizza.
Is it supreme or meatlovers?

What does Pious mean?

Dentist recommend replacing your toothrush every 8-10 weeks.
What we meant to say was.
“Become a dentist; they can affort a new toothbrush every day”

“You have no idea what the fuck these guys are doing in there or why it costs so much”

I wonder what you’ll be like when you’re 50 Patrick.

Isn’t it funny when you catch yourself lying.

“I feel dinner, eating should be a crechendo. Like,if you eat a bit then stop you forget the true taste. What it was and could have been, but if you just keep piling it in, the muddle of food grows and grows and then STOP, its over” beautiful.
Sol Foster’s Jack Kerrouac-esque style. A postmodernist interpretation of food consumption. One-long-connected-experience. The waking consciousness, the scroll of dinner.
And to finish, like a dessert. This sweet pun.
Indeed, it was a scroll. Jack Kerrouac be proud.
Did that guy have a degree in english? (I wonder out loud).

I need to look up chaos theory.
“Philosophising”