”Read the directions and directly you will be directed in the right direction” Doorknob, ‘Alice in Wonderland’.

How do you feel like you’re rushing around like a blue-arsed fly, busy as a bee and doing a great number of things that a great number of flying insects may also do.. But when you really look at it, what have you actually achieved? There seems to be absolutely ”no time to say ‘Hello’, ‘Goodbye’, I’m late, I’m late, I’m late..” For what exactly? Has time even ‘passed’ at all? Is time even linear? Whether it is or isn’t, why are we forever seeking to cram it full of crap and fill every single gap?

For one, no, I don’t think time is linear. I don’t really think everything is as it seems.. When I start thinking like this I get an awful lot confused with my own state of being, wherever that state and being may be. Are we matter dreaming ourselves into being humans with consciousness? Is that rock dreaming it’s a rock because it can’t recognise itself in a mirror?

”It would be so nice if something would make sense for a change.” Alice

My uncle has recently popped over to this wet and windy island from Au.struckin.falia with thought’s of buying a little country pub to settle back down in his ‘home land’. He’s pretty awesome. And also one of the most mind boggling people in my life. He makes me think about these annoying circular thoughts in depth until I truly tie my face in knots. We were sat one fine afternoon within a dark and dingy tavern drinking the finest liquor whilst confabulating about ‘far out’ ideas. One of which being the soul. Or, perchance, our ‘essence’. In respect to reincarnation and ‘matter’ (body) dying. Therefore memory; why can’t we remember our previous life and form? Do we have ‘matter memories’ that die along with our bodies and then our ‘essence memories’, which are far harder to retrieve once dead, being the reason why some people can remember past lives… It’s all extraordinarily baffling. I feel in a constant state of bewilderment when I am in the company of such folk…

”If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary-wise; what it is it wouldn’t be, and what it wouldn’t be, it would. You see?” Alice

I think I already live there. It sure as the White Rabbit’s watch seems so.

Green Monsters Eating Your Love…

Properly started freaking out today. And it was over -such- an incredibly silly thing…

Jealousy.

It’ll eat away at your soul and tear you apart, baby.
Your face will turn a horrid shade of green.
Those eyes once so blue
Will have an angry hue.
Don’t let it get you, baby. Don’t let it get you.

Not entirely sure why I just wrote that.. Sound’s a little like an extremely bad pop song. Good. That definitely was what I was aiming for. Ahem. Anywho, yes, that Green Monster creeping up on you from the edges of your heart, encroaching on your heavenly breeze.
I sloth’ed my way home after a tiresome and hard-working day at that place that people call ‘work’, funnily enough! I was feeling like my eyeballs could actually drop forthwith from the sockets in which they are bound from the constant, terrible staring. Staring, staring at a computer screen. I’m a telesales girl you see. The only perk of the job is the fact I get to use my ‘sexy voice’ and flirt with people over the phone. I think I’m pretty good at caressing people into buying pastry and nibbles to be quite frank…

I slowly fell in through the door to have my little sister bounce her excited bottom up to my face and start blabbering, what I can only assume was English, all up in my grill. Now, now, I thought, this is just too much happiness for my little face to handle, what with it growing steadily bitter and cynical by the hour. But of course, a little of her wonderful pleasure seeped into my brittle bones and I brightened up momentarily.

She told me the news that really couldn’t wait for me to take my shoes off and have a wee that I’d been dying for. Her small, clammy hand dragged me over to the sofa as she repeats, ‘Are you listening? I’m going to carry on talking while you take your knickers off… Are you listening?!’ Oh, how I love having a little one. In the most sincere way possible – The way her cherub cheeks glisten with new found electricity really is the most heart warming thing ever.

The story of her day unfolded. She’d been to Stratford-upon-Avon college, where she wants to do Performing Arts, but actually she met the best Head of Drama teacher ever who told her that she clearly has an affinity with music and he could see it straight away and then he took her to the music teacher and they were talking and getting all ecstatic about being all musical and fun they didn’t realise how much time had past. I honestly had to force her to take a breath then, she was turning a slight shade of puce. Although, I think if she -had- of fainted, she would probably started dancing to Tchaikovsky with a penguin suit on. Stories of all the brilliantly talented people that went there. The girl that has just got a £36,ooo course for free because she is so amazing. The acrobat’ing wonderments of this world. Kids half being at college and half being with Sony singing with their magical voices…

And all I could think of is, I want that. How come she always finds the best place for her and I’m always floating around in the middle not knowing where or who I am? Why can’t I be ecstatic? Why can’t I be the one we’re all pleased for?

That was all I could fucking think, for literally 3 minutes. What the actual fuck? Maybe it was because I was tired, maybe it was just because I’m so god damn selfish. But I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit… Enough, I said. Fortunately I rose out of it pretty smartish and told myself to stop being such a complete prick and get over myself. It worked.

And then I got really excited. And I couldn’t stop hugging her. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how bloody ACE she is. One of the -most- talented young artist’s I know, in fact. She is my little bubble of beautiful flowers in a cloud of grey.

Basically, I’m a massive idiot and massive ball of fluff.

:0)

Farewell Friend… Until we meet again.

Yet now, the instrument is out of tune and we’ve
Forgotten how to play. I squeeze the concluding
Cigarette residing in the pocket. Lifting it to my
Lips just as your hand falls, a silent juxtaposition.
Flames dance around my eyes as I watch
Your green Khaki hat drift slowly away.

”Goodbye just means ‘I’m going to miss you until I see you again”

For the past two years, I think I have spent possibly three quarters of it travelling the world. And myself. When you do this romping-flitting-and-altogether-having-a-jolly-old-time sort of affair, there is most definitely going to have to be a goodbye in there somewhere. The initial ones are some of the easier ones, for you that is. Your mum, your friends, your family. Hell! You’re going off to have the most spectacular adventures in the world, literally, and they get to wait for your safe return when you know you can kiss, hug and splurged your latest findings upon them. You know you are going to be in their arms by the end of the year. You forget though, the ones left behind find it the hardest. They’re not gallivanting across the planet, passport in hand, ready to leap frog into the nearest country. They get to thoroughly enjoy themselves by still drinking tea, still cursing the weather, still shaking their fist at the government. But oh! you’ve given them a new and extremely great addition – They get to worry. For months on end. Thinking up all these crazy things that you might get yourself into. How nice for them.

See, 2 types of ‘goodbye’ and you haven’t even left the country yet! Then there are fantastically easy ones! That highly irritating Australian woman who works on a uranium mine in the middle of the beautiful ‘Bush’ and thinks it’s all well and good. Douche. The young Turkish boy who has been following you around Istanbul for the past three days, antipasti in hand. Or, perhaps, the stinking, rotting, heinous smell of the dirty city of Mumbai, your brain frazzled by the horrendousness of it all, your eyes tired from crying with the poor, hungry and needy. The idiots, annoying and too hard to cope with. See ya’!

Unfortunately, then comes the beautiful souls that somehow wiggle their pretty little bottoms into your hemisphere and decide that you want them in your life, for you. And you love them. Irrevocably. Those people that you may never see again. Hitch-hiking down the South West of Oz with nothing but $10, a cake, a really large scarf and an insane young Belgian lad. The scarf happened to come in handy when we got stranded in a small town and half way back to where our tents were (about 150 kilometres away) and HAD to sleep on a really soft and warm picnic table. It’s all shits and giggles.. Well, my mother didn’t really find it that amusing at the time. I think she may have had a slight seizure when I updated my Facebook status to, ‘Loved sleeping on a freezing park bench in the middle of Margaret River. With a scarf. Only a scarf. Oh, and a Belgian.’ Awesome.

So, goodbye is everywhere. It seeps into the cracks in our story books and likes to make sure we’re on our toes. Make sure we’re still alive.

WishWashy Fodder for the Heart…

Laced In Mist

Glassy new moon shining, placed with simplicity. Naturally crafting inexperienced sensations,
Delicately drawn across the obscured, cloudy sky. Two shadowed forms spread over the frozen
Tarmac encased by the empty street. Effortless silence drifts above blushed cheeks, concealing
The hysteria in these freshly met souls. An unveiled cog in life’s ever shifting fate clicks, wheeling
A shabby, imperfect Volvo forward into sight. Strewn at their feet a flash of orange peel, chosen
As if aesthetically painted by an artist looking to attract the eye to hidden desire; temptations.

 

Ah, the fanciful flights of the young. I love it when I’m all caught up in the whirling stormy fortress of unrequited love. Especially when it assists me with scrawling haphazardly over sheets of virgin paper to create something really, very selfish; like a poem. Poems have that wonderful ability to completely capture any sort of audience for just a second, and hour or a lifetime with ease. Our inherent need to know that we are not the only broken-hearted, down-trodden, beautiful mess on this godforsaken planet will let us see parts of us in every-thing-. Ironically, every-one-. Yes, poems are brilliant, sad, awe-inspiring and downright frustrating (when you’re exploring the likes of Wordsworth and Coleridge harping on about ”blended notes” and ‘primrose tufts’ on a very wet Monday morning at school).

Solipsist.

 Sitting, listening to the background
Gargling of the lone refrigerator
Hunched in the corner, like some old
Guy who’s being doing crack for too long.
Years past, never yet found
Anyone close to what I am
Looking for. This damn fridge
Means just as much. Belong…
Don’t know the meaning of it
Anymore. Solipsist. Ah there’s
A word to recognise. Flickering
Backdrop of a small television
Recounts lives, half naked images flit
Of blonde bints galavanting around with
Some inane half witted excuse for a man,
Putting our world to shame. “Oh what a vision”
Some fat prick will say. Pah!
Well at least they are doing less
Harm than bombs going off
Left, right and centre. A
Gaza shaped piece of pizza
Sits at my left, flies spit and
Vomit all over the surface. I wave
Them off, but a single hand can

Do nothing more than a single voice.
Though standing together
Sometimes isn’t so easy. Hand in
Hand – Bullshit. We have a choice,
Are we really capable of such
A simple action? Always cutting
Ourselves off from each other,
Emotion wasted. A steel band
Marches through love and care
Waving it’s capitalist flag, stamping
It’s iron clad boots. Sighs are all that
Seem to protrude my mouth now.
“Love is a smoke made from the
Fume of sighs”, No my dear ‘Uncle’
William, it’s not. Life is not fair.
Certainly not fair enough to show
Me oxygen filled love. The only fume
I can taste is that of my last cigarette,
Curling at the end – ashes dropping
Onto my vacant lap. Everything is
Empty now – Empty lap. Empty perfume
Spilling onto empty chests. Later rubbing
Onto empty sheets – First full of passion,
Now contain only sweat and piss.

Delight, the Future and a Sprinkle of Silliness.

Serious epiphany day. For some splendiferous reason I have suddenly, miraculously, decided that I cannot wait. For anything and nothing in particular. I just can’t wait. It’s as though a cauldron full of faerie dust  has just been thrown over my whole body. Or I’ve grabbed my coat out of the wardrobe and small flakes of snow are sitting expectantly atop, even though it’s mid-summer. Or a thousand envelopes with green slanted writing and a ‘H’ on the seal are brilliantly diving at me from every direction.

Phewf! It’s terribly exhausting being this excited about your future, you know. It is no wonder people don’t often do it, all this splendour, fear, blessedness, complacency, exasperation and glee rolled into one big ball of string. That’s what I feel like; String. I’m all warm and fluffy, scrunched up in my own little world, vibrating with joy at the prospect of bursting out and tangling everyone else up in a huge melee of love. Raunchy.

Do you not think that ‘raunchy’ is quite possibly the most un-sexy sexy word ever. I mean, honestly, it sounds like ‘paunchy’  and a big round belly is rarely a turn on. Or ‘haunches’, that just reminds me of frightening beasties in story books making themselves more monstrous.  Though I guess, as the dictionary says, ‘the hip, buttock or upper thigh’ are tremendously sexy. How confusing…

Anyway, enough of this inane idiocy. Where was I? Ah, excitement. The big grey building of Universe City is hastily racing towards my tiny little anxious face, gaining a notch every second. New places, new smells, new people doing new and different things. I can imagine myself now, running toward the gates hanging on to my hat, swinging my suitcase wildly whilst singing that song from The Sound of Music. It’s really rather fortunate I want to be an actress, isn’t it?

Peace,  c];0)

Bow Ties, Bigots and Marshmallow Fluff.

This evening was an extremely exciting and frustrating evening for me. Well, it was the mid-season finale of Doctor Who you see and we -finally- found out who River Song actually is. It was all very intense, as the writer dangles melting pieces of information chocolate in front of our agitated schnoz’s and then whips it away just as quickly. Although, if I do say so myself, I am a genius and had totally guessed *correctly* who River was. I am proud of this. But now it’s just, blah. Okayyyy, we know who she is now, but why is she there? Is she a Time Lord too? Does she regenerate? Is she the little space girl? Did she kill the Doctor? WHAT is happening? I now feel like I have to sit and paint all the little faces onto the small people within a mirror within a mirror within a mirror… for eternity.

Never mind, eh. It’ll give me something to procrastinate about when I should be doing productive type things with my day. Like working. As well as dreaming about Matt Smith’s dishy visage (I do this often. Not sure whether it’s because I’m often bored, or utterly obsessed..)

We don’t need to get into my obsessions just now, the ridiculousness of some of them really are mind boggling and utterly embarrassing for me. Though I’m am quite certain they will find a way to seep surreptitiously out of my tiny tapping fingers and into your shocked brains faster than you can say, ”I’m sorry, what?!” Fantastic.

I also have some very slight, massive issue’s about myself in all sorts of respects, body/soul/knickers. It’s all very ‘girly’ and stupid and I often want to bop myself on the nose for such ramblings, but that’s being a twenty-something these days. There’s is always something fucking us up some which way or another. So we may as well talk about it and see if we can rectify the problem. No? Like the Government for instance, we should punch it in it’s brilliantly large chauvinistic, contemptuous, bigoted, consumerist balls. As you can see, English Government irks me. It is irksome.

So here we are, you have been introduced to the surface layer of my nerdy, awkward, strange personality. Plus I’m a Gemini. Not entirely sure what that means, but I’m sure it’s something interesting. Perhaps..I shall now take my leave whilst scoffing, weirdly, marshmallow fluff from the States.

 

Peace, :0)