I've changed this week. Exerted some self control, made some decisions, decided to no longer counter act my good will with poor judgement and no self control.
I've been walking home and feeling clearer for it, softer, have more clarity, vibrancy, focus, happier, energetic, eating well and allowing myself one treat a day, as well as writing and making the effort to sit down to churn some ideas. And I'm not worrying, not being paranoid and placing importance on what may not even be real, those factors we add to our lives by having fears. I don't believe in them.
I'm taking better care of myself, more pride and respect in my manner, my appearance, my relations. I am more engaging now, more fluid, honest.
I do believe for the first time in my life that I have needed the bad things that have happened and the shitty people to push me onto a better path, and that is only because of my unyielding optimism that I have not let them drown me.
I am very happy with who I am. I feel that I have come a long way and am now the person I want to be, living the life I want to live, and not applying others rules on me, not changing for anyone, not invoking or inviting horrors in.
This is perhaps the most liberated I have ever been. All cobwebs have fallen down. Any doubts I had died with my fears. I feel electric.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
do it
If I need to get somewhere I'll walk there.
I have a reserve of strength, fortitude, love, serenity, optimism inside me that I am only now learning about.
I am healthy, I am happy. I haven't felt so much myself before.
I think I found me.
I have a reserve of strength, fortitude, love, serenity, optimism inside me that I am only now learning about.
I am healthy, I am happy. I haven't felt so much myself before.
I think I found me.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
articulation times two
I caught up with Mary last night. I think my eyes are mirrors or windows, sometimes, to another place. In them, in a mind link of some kind, she saw exactly what I was speaking of. I love our catch ups. We equally fascinate the other. I love learning from her, she is an enchantress.
Life is so good.
Life is so good.
Monday, January 28, 2008
together
I no longer feel frayed.
I've reached a point, a break through, where I am all that I wanted to be. Sure, there are goals I haven't yet reached, challenges not yet accomplished, people yet to meet, music yet to make, but I'm actually doing the things I have feared, learning the miracle of experimentation, and that it is healthy.
I've had a lover lately, I thought for a while it was something I wanted in my life, that I was ok with the emptiness of NSA sex. But that is not what I want. I think that is a cop out, of sorts.
To wait and share it with someone who loves every secret place of you, who worships you, who creates the feeling with you..a sultry, sensual tableture on sweaty sheets, THAT is "hot" THAT is beautiful.
I'm not going to see him again, avoid him where I can, talk to him only where I have to. I know he is seeing someone else and at first I was dismayed, hurt, and then it all just disappeared and I realised, in the face of something I feared happening, I actually don't care. And that feels good.
I guess I place reactions out there before the shit has even hit the fan. Sometimes we can delightfully surprise ourselves.
And I'm scared about the feelings I kind of have for someone else. I wonder if they are transient, if this is borne of some rose-tinted affair I have with the mystic side.
I am happy to be alone.
And I am happy with who I am. Loyal, fun, sincere. Optimistic, friendly. I've encountered people lately, and today very much so, that are on the defensive.
I'd hate to live in a cage,
I've reached a point, a break through, where I am all that I wanted to be. Sure, there are goals I haven't yet reached, challenges not yet accomplished, people yet to meet, music yet to make, but I'm actually doing the things I have feared, learning the miracle of experimentation, and that it is healthy.
I've had a lover lately, I thought for a while it was something I wanted in my life, that I was ok with the emptiness of NSA sex. But that is not what I want. I think that is a cop out, of sorts.
To wait and share it with someone who loves every secret place of you, who worships you, who creates the feeling with you..a sultry, sensual tableture on sweaty sheets, THAT is "hot" THAT is beautiful.
I'm not going to see him again, avoid him where I can, talk to him only where I have to. I know he is seeing someone else and at first I was dismayed, hurt, and then it all just disappeared and I realised, in the face of something I feared happening, I actually don't care. And that feels good.
I guess I place reactions out there before the shit has even hit the fan. Sometimes we can delightfully surprise ourselves.
And I'm scared about the feelings I kind of have for someone else. I wonder if they are transient, if this is borne of some rose-tinted affair I have with the mystic side.
I am happy to be alone.
And I am happy with who I am. Loyal, fun, sincere. Optimistic, friendly. I've encountered people lately, and today very much so, that are on the defensive.
I'd hate to live in a cage,
Sunday, January 20, 2008
ruminations
all day yesterday objects kept dropping, falling, colliding with gravity.
I made mental notes of this but I couldn't say why then, and can't now.
Teardrops make a sound. Raindrops too. Everything has a tonal force, in the weight of their footsteps.
On New Years Eve a guy came up to me and grabbed my face, in the too-bright of the kitchen light, and he looked into my eyes, and I could hear his fingers on my cheeks, and he said.. "why didn't anybody tell me" and gestured behind him with full lips and that boyish chin, and kept his eyes on mine, hypnotised, seemingly, and I didn't know quite what to do other than to stare right back, and smile, and frown, unsurely.
I had a man gaze into my eyes at one place of employment and told me my eyes were good for diagnosis.
But I don't see anything than what the person next to me sees. If I put anything on my senses it is gossamer, it is fragile, it is not really there.
I had strange dreams this weekend. I was in a small town, like a western town, and was waiting for my Mother, who is deceased, and I got the impression she was to appear on stage, her ghost, or her, back from the dead and very much alive. A woman next to me who had been in this same town dream last year, was talking to me as she always does in my dream about all sorts of things but I cannot remember what, other than she is taunting me, to make me jump up, maybe she is Gotcha. I get the feeling she fancies me in this gloomy way, and I always weave my way out of the crowd. Like I do in the dream before, with Dylan, and knowing what Love ought to feel like.
But I figured yesterday, sitting on the beach, after writing lovers initials into the sand, that would disappear with the wind and the surf, that it doesn't matter. What we see and hear and feel, yes it makes our everyday more vivid, but essentially for every photo we take, for ever kiss we share, it is to remember the moment that will end as quickly as it begun. We're all frantic collectors of moments.
I made mental notes of this but I couldn't say why then, and can't now.
Teardrops make a sound. Raindrops too. Everything has a tonal force, in the weight of their footsteps.
On New Years Eve a guy came up to me and grabbed my face, in the too-bright of the kitchen light, and he looked into my eyes, and I could hear his fingers on my cheeks, and he said.. "why didn't anybody tell me" and gestured behind him with full lips and that boyish chin, and kept his eyes on mine, hypnotised, seemingly, and I didn't know quite what to do other than to stare right back, and smile, and frown, unsurely.
I had a man gaze into my eyes at one place of employment and told me my eyes were good for diagnosis.
But I don't see anything than what the person next to me sees. If I put anything on my senses it is gossamer, it is fragile, it is not really there.
I had strange dreams this weekend. I was in a small town, like a western town, and was waiting for my Mother, who is deceased, and I got the impression she was to appear on stage, her ghost, or her, back from the dead and very much alive. A woman next to me who had been in this same town dream last year, was talking to me as she always does in my dream about all sorts of things but I cannot remember what, other than she is taunting me, to make me jump up, maybe she is Gotcha. I get the feeling she fancies me in this gloomy way, and I always weave my way out of the crowd. Like I do in the dream before, with Dylan, and knowing what Love ought to feel like.
But I figured yesterday, sitting on the beach, after writing lovers initials into the sand, that would disappear with the wind and the surf, that it doesn't matter. What we see and hear and feel, yes it makes our everyday more vivid, but essentially for every photo we take, for ever kiss we share, it is to remember the moment that will end as quickly as it begun. We're all frantic collectors of moments.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
beeeep
I'm thinking of looking into clairvoyance or something.. I've started realising that I have something spooky going on and noticing all sorts of things that keep happening. I get senses about people, and I've come to see I'm always right.
I think it'll be interesting to look into, in either case.
I think it'll be interesting to look into, in either case.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
what I did
I dyed my fringe blue.
It's like a lagoon greeny blue. I don't really like it.
I had a meeting today at work. I've been slacking. Been distracted. Time to clean up or get out, right? Righhhtt. So I'm going to. Am. Doing.
And for the first time in many months I did my tarot. Got the Strength, Judgement cards which make perfect sense, and the Moon, which was and partly is the state I am in.
Going to think 'yellow' from now on. I can't believe my friend saw it. I said I saw Magenta and she gasped and exclaimed, "that's my favourite colour"
Haven't decided yet whether I'm just damn good at diagnosis, am wormholing some how (not Darko style, I swear) or am clairvoyant. She says I am.
Still seeing Angels every where.
It's like a lagoon greeny blue. I don't really like it.
I had a meeting today at work. I've been slacking. Been distracted. Time to clean up or get out, right? Righhhtt. So I'm going to. Am. Doing.
And for the first time in many months I did my tarot. Got the Strength, Judgement cards which make perfect sense, and the Moon, which was and partly is the state I am in.
Going to think 'yellow' from now on. I can't believe my friend saw it. I said I saw Magenta and she gasped and exclaimed, "that's my favourite colour"
Haven't decided yet whether I'm just damn good at diagnosis, am wormholing some how (not Darko style, I swear) or am clairvoyant. She says I am.
Still seeing Angels every where.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Thursday, January 10, 2008
bitten
I feel clear and certain today. And light. I woke up feeling curiouser than the day before, as though some giant weight exited my body in sleep.
I'm happy. Arranged my mind to suit. No more grief.
I'm making some scenes this weekend for the film. I love that I'm twenty two and shopping for fake blood in my lunch hours.
Dardanelles were weird and wonderful as usual. I wish my Sister saw these bands. The horror on her face would be hilarious.
I swear, her and I cannot get any more different. I'm concerned with bloody angels, acquiring bruises, sex, loud experimental music and piercing myself in places a good girl doesn't and she is bead making, scrap booking, Butterfly Boucher listening to, floral print wearing, sex after thirty moving to Sylvania Waters Fiona... The gap is a fucking canyon in difference. I love her so hard.
I'm happy. Arranged my mind to suit. No more grief.
I'm making some scenes this weekend for the film. I love that I'm twenty two and shopping for fake blood in my lunch hours.
Dardanelles were weird and wonderful as usual. I wish my Sister saw these bands. The horror on her face would be hilarious.
I swear, her and I cannot get any more different. I'm concerned with bloody angels, acquiring bruises, sex, loud experimental music and piercing myself in places a good girl doesn't and she is bead making, scrap booking, Butterfly Boucher listening to, floral print wearing, sex after thirty moving to Sylvania Waters Fiona... The gap is a fucking canyon in difference. I love her so hard.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
runaway
I want to be a runaway this weekend.
Hop onto a bus and go for a ride. Get tired and fall asleep and wake up sticky with melted candy and really hungry.
I used to joke that I'd catch the bus to Sefton, in high school, to be weird.
Maybe I will.
Hop onto a bus and go for a ride. Get tired and fall asleep and wake up sticky with melted candy and really hungry.
I used to joke that I'd catch the bus to Sefton, in high school, to be weird.
Maybe I will.
guts
I found cat gloves to wear for the masquerade tonight.
My room is a shitfight. Somewhere are my cat ears.
..give me strength.
My room is a shitfight. Somewhere are my cat ears.
..give me strength.
Monday, January 7, 2008
dum de dum dum dum
My shitkicking Newtown bestie, Karina, reckons we should form a band.
Does the world understand how much this tugs at the old heart strings?
I'm touched, someone else wants to scream and kick and punch and wham her way into the world of music as much as I do.
We would be so hawt.
I've tried several times in the past four years to start a band. One actually had the minds for it but then one moved away and the other revealed themselves as a nutcase. Another guy borrowed my copy of 'Dirty' and never gave it back and my latest option has disappeared.
I'm making music whatever the case. I have so many ideas in mind. Experiments in sound, thrashing, angry, yelling, tormented, wonderful rock.
Does the world understand how much this tugs at the old heart strings?
I'm touched, someone else wants to scream and kick and punch and wham her way into the world of music as much as I do.
We would be so hawt.
I've tried several times in the past four years to start a band. One actually had the minds for it but then one moved away and the other revealed themselves as a nutcase. Another guy borrowed my copy of 'Dirty' and never gave it back and my latest option has disappeared.
I'm making music whatever the case. I have so many ideas in mind. Experiments in sound, thrashing, angry, yelling, tormented, wonderful rock.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
dead poets
I chanced upon some writings of Anne Sexton. Her work is very sex driven, and reverent and then she went and stuck her head in an oven at 46. What a cop out. Not to mention, unoriginal. Suicide is not glamourous at all. I don't understand and won't pretend to, why artists and some people find it that way. It is the end. Whether you go on into the next life or hover around as a ghost, you're not your current chemistry, the miracle of that. I find who we are, circuitry and shit, fascinating and I think humans are amazing machines.
Anyway, so I was thinking about how I perceived things for a long time.
Even sex was cerebral.
Now I let myself have pleasure and laughter in everything and it is so much better. I like logic, and rationale', but moments lose their wonder and the expiry date is reached all too soon if we keep giving 'reason' to that which we engage in.
I had a friend of mine literally whispering in my ear for an hour yesterday about LSD (to which I mispronounced as LCD.. "I want some LCD mannnn" because I rock in a dorky way) and how he can now look at everything and everthing has a life.
And? was all I could think.
Anyone can look at a rose or a tree or a person and be amazed by the fact it has a soul, an energy, that it deserves to be on earth. The tree breathes, it is what we breathe, and a rose wilts and dies.. This is why I am adament that drugs are for the borings. I would like to try composing something after having pot but I do not concern myself with going out there and living my life based on that cycle.
I believe in the power of childhood. In remaining simple and not too guarded and enjoying small things, silly things, being light hearted. It is wise.
I've always been tapped into my better self, always been a smart person. It is moments like yesterday when I am so proud of who I am. Even now, I get butterflies writing this. I could have been such a failure. And I think it is because I perceive myself as a strong, loyal to life person, not a "survivor" or a "victim". I do feel grief when I am alone too much, and I am reminded of my parents, and then everything that doesn't work at that time becomes bigger than it is, more significant, and I start hating myself and my life.. always happens around Christmas, New Years, even my Birthday. But I don't give in. I never give in. I think there is enough insinuation in all this writing so far I don't need to write further than this..
Anyway, with ceremony, I find it ick, because I have difficulty in celebrating something that for so long has not felt important to me. To give, to share warm times with friends and family is great, but that is all it is. I respect and love and give out as much as I can from my heart to those closest to me every day. I don't need a day of the year to do it more.
So, maybe what I'm saying, is that while I'm a human miracle machine, and while I am proud, and while I too have my hiccups, I feel absolutely happy and ready to ride whatever may come my way. I don't even think about the shit anymore, I feel like I've cried for the last time, and everything from here on in is clear and straight as an arrow.
Anyway, so I was thinking about how I perceived things for a long time.
Even sex was cerebral.
Now I let myself have pleasure and laughter in everything and it is so much better. I like logic, and rationale', but moments lose their wonder and the expiry date is reached all too soon if we keep giving 'reason' to that which we engage in.
I had a friend of mine literally whispering in my ear for an hour yesterday about LSD (to which I mispronounced as LCD.. "I want some LCD mannnn" because I rock in a dorky way) and how he can now look at everything and everthing has a life.
And? was all I could think.
Anyone can look at a rose or a tree or a person and be amazed by the fact it has a soul, an energy, that it deserves to be on earth. The tree breathes, it is what we breathe, and a rose wilts and dies.. This is why I am adament that drugs are for the borings. I would like to try composing something after having pot but I do not concern myself with going out there and living my life based on that cycle.
I believe in the power of childhood. In remaining simple and not too guarded and enjoying small things, silly things, being light hearted. It is wise.
I've always been tapped into my better self, always been a smart person. It is moments like yesterday when I am so proud of who I am. Even now, I get butterflies writing this. I could have been such a failure. And I think it is because I perceive myself as a strong, loyal to life person, not a "survivor" or a "victim". I do feel grief when I am alone too much, and I am reminded of my parents, and then everything that doesn't work at that time becomes bigger than it is, more significant, and I start hating myself and my life.. always happens around Christmas, New Years, even my Birthday. But I don't give in. I never give in. I think there is enough insinuation in all this writing so far I don't need to write further than this..
Anyway, with ceremony, I find it ick, because I have difficulty in celebrating something that for so long has not felt important to me. To give, to share warm times with friends and family is great, but that is all it is. I respect and love and give out as much as I can from my heart to those closest to me every day. I don't need a day of the year to do it more.
So, maybe what I'm saying, is that while I'm a human miracle machine, and while I am proud, and while I too have my hiccups, I feel absolutely happy and ready to ride whatever may come my way. I don't even think about the shit anymore, I feel like I've cried for the last time, and everything from here on in is clear and straight as an arrow.
today is a sad day
my bruise is gone. faded, just a brown smudge on my arm.
Ring the bells, and mourn. It was the ugliest mother fucker this skin has seen.
Ring the bells, and mourn. It was the ugliest mother fucker this skin has seen.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
fey & firmament
Outside I remembered an old skin, before I drew up the zip on this one. Not so much the flesh, but the feeling of that body, before I was Me, when I was a sylph, or a happy phantom.
I still feel that way and it convinces me of my origins.
The delight and space-like careening when doing what could be anything, anywhere. It's an awareness of the deception of time, the threads that make the veil. Like Nietzche said, what we see is actually only half of it..
I like to submerge myself now and again, and surface. Refreshed and glistening.
I don't like to talk this way much, because then I get dreamy and distracted and morose. But it must be done, outstanding ideas have to be put down.
This is almost like a cubbyhouse this blog for my most expansive self.
I still feel that way and it convinces me of my origins.
The delight and space-like careening when doing what could be anything, anywhere. It's an awareness of the deception of time, the threads that make the veil. Like Nietzche said, what we see is actually only half of it..
I like to submerge myself now and again, and surface. Refreshed and glistening.
I don't like to talk this way much, because then I get dreamy and distracted and morose. But it must be done, outstanding ideas have to be put down.
This is almost like a cubbyhouse this blog for my most expansive self.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
loose change
I want him to think of smoke, and honey and early morning kisses when I'm not there.
Whether akin to my quiet singing voice, or that he knows me so well he sees this and the plume of feathers, ornate gold mirror frames, shadowed velvet, barefeet running, throwing him into walls lore of my locked up heart.
I am the kind that bites her lip and grins when she is singed.
and he'll be the kind with the paper-cut fingertips and culprit glare, ashtray nearby in his dark wooded mending, our blood running the same course. He'll hold the scoring key to my breast and testify to the galaxies between him and my thighs., seen through the locksmithery of my eyes.
Whether akin to my quiet singing voice, or that he knows me so well he sees this and the plume of feathers, ornate gold mirror frames, shadowed velvet, barefeet running, throwing him into walls lore of my locked up heart.
I am the kind that bites her lip and grins when she is singed.
and he'll be the kind with the paper-cut fingertips and culprit glare, ashtray nearby in his dark wooded mending, our blood running the same course. He'll hold the scoring key to my breast and testify to the galaxies between him and my thighs., seen through the locksmithery of my eyes.
shadowed
this is my gnarliest possession.
The antics of an unruly youth >>>.. And when I start skating I'm bound to get more. Doth the ear detect a "coooooool, man" being uttered? Of course. I still climb trees, fences, run amuck barefoot whenever I get the chance.
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Behind the Veil of Leaves

- Phreedom
- I'm an artist, I'm just unknown by the rest of the planet. But one day, the world will recognise my initial, and smile. I only want to make peoples faces light up.