My messy baby
he lands all over the floor
when i'm not looking
maybe i'm poorer
for not looking
anymore
but my messy baby
when he lands all up on the floor
he waits for me to bathe him
'til he ain't no mess no more.
He comes up for air and surfaces over the opalescent water. Above him, the blue sky wobbles and below him, the blue sky squabbles at his neck, the sky and water meet. He breaks their union with spit, wipes salty hand over salty face. A low hiss of air over the water and he sends ripples to China. He lolls back and lets the water reach over his body its cold hands taking each other and tightening. He reforms, spits again, a surge of deep anger inside him. He begins to yell. At all those he thought betrayed him in life. His sister and her cold fingers on his neck while he dozed. His mother and her bent back, seeking his hands at the dinner table, gently shushing the stereo in his sister's room. His father's red car, forever tweaked, forever twisted. The cat that was left flat on the mat on Saturday. A dozen crazy crabs who left him for bigger shells. Barty, Martin, Chipper, Haz, their big brown hands on his neck on a victorious Saturday lunchtime. Madelen, who had bigger fish to fry. The quiet of his lonely home at night. He is now left with an expanse bigger than his ego, blue to the last, from top to side to bottom and below. His belly quivers with hunger. His legs tire from movement. He lolls again, feels the dizzying depths below. His voice is hoarse and he immediately regrets having yelled and bellowed. His anger seems dwarfed by the calm of the blue to blue around him. It angers him more. Why is he the only angry one? Why do no others rage beside him? He cries but you wouldn't know - it's just salt and there's plenty more to go around. Here at this crucial juncture - do you hold on, or do you sink? How long can you swim for before you realise there's only more blue beyond the blue?
Friday, August 24, 2007
Friday, August 17, 2007
Our God, he doth walk among us, his light like a beacon to the open skies.
Muse Touring, November 10, Supreme Court Gardens. Tickets on sale yesterday. Come see Him preach to the long-haired masses. My eyes will be wild with glee.
Monday, August 13, 2007
A long cold winter
In this longish hiatus from my posting on this site, I have thought much. Indeed, I'd go as far to say that a terribly lot of things have happened in my life. I've met all these people, done all these things, spent all this money.
None of that however is terribly interesting or entertaining. Not so much as those few little oddment bits of anecdotal strain events that have blotted the landscape in between the bigs and the grands, and filled in the modest gaps in my rather gappy life.
Firstly is my discovery that my new laptop underlines misspelt words in red, no matter what program I am in. After writing a facebook (which i shall come to later) wall post which resembled a suivre:
LOL thats massively kewl! LOLZ u rok girlf! LOL!the squips of red rather disconcerted me. I reconsidered with a rather more conservative 'laugh out loud!'.
Secondly, my loss of ability to write anything remotely interesting, entertaining or witty such as to invite readers and potential publishers into my literary sphere. This has resulted in mass book collecting, writing everyday, in the hope that the loss is salvageable and not entire. Further such updates may ensue.
Three my newfound adoration of wordbuilding and making up words to suit the sounds I need, the descriptive morphology, phonology and orthography to establish that which I am trying to explain to whomsoever may be in the vicinity. This is perhaps not as fruitful as hoped, though these words are slowly seeping into my everyday vocabulary, thus further enriching and diversifying it. Three point five is my use of unnecessary or inappropriate words particularly adjectives in sentences.
Four, my complete failure in French. I think no more needs be said on this matter.
Fifth is my UNYA hackness and my apparently unquenchable desire to be consumed by UNYA in such a way as leaves no trace of my soul and but for my modest collection of stamps and Muse newspaper cuttings would all my remnants be lost. BKM better be appreciative.
Sixth is my unnerving desire to insure my new car, along with my echinaceal love of good health and painfreeuninterruptedmovement.
Seventh is my new addiction to facebook, the vice of the studying world, my foray into internet obsession and meandering thought trails. I feel journeyed alongside, shared and betrothed to a higher demon than those that tie me to facebook and not to my tortsbook. Alas this betrothal reminds me of brothel and thus eight.
Eight is unsurprisingly my desire to travel around WA. My WAphile status has long been knownst to myself, though to others it may serve as a reminder that I am slightly bizarre and off-kilter with the wants and desires of the contemporary Australian youth. That dirt just gets in your blood and courses through them veins, then you're suckered for good and can't think of nothing by saltbush, sandalwood, open horizons and lonely highway corners upon which one may meet a roadtrain. The minimalism and simplicity of it all has me virtually begging to be taken. TV programmes such as the circuit and a quick sojourn to Kalgoorlie neither helped nor abated this thirst.
Nine is my despisal for all things law related: employment, lectures, assignments, professors (bar Doug), Brenda McGivern (bless her), cases, tortsbook, laptop. Ouch. Don't shut down on me honey. You are also my gateway to outside world, I need.
Ten is the realisation that in order to avoid reading I will write an unnecessary list of things to entertain no one but myself. I think my blog is an empty alley, kind of lit by a light that keeps going out and then going white then going orange, a skip bin, high walls, odd smell. I skulk around here and kick around the grime for playtime things to do. Playlunch comes with the scurrying of feet.
Eleventh is my new love of wondering around, yes with an o, being only interested in things that interest me, coming to terms with people who don't like me (like you'd really waste time on that?) and my dislike of fibromyalgia.
For now c'est tout.
None of that however is terribly interesting or entertaining. Not so much as those few little oddment bits of anecdotal strain events that have blotted the landscape in between the bigs and the grands, and filled in the modest gaps in my rather gappy life.
Firstly is my discovery that my new laptop underlines misspelt words in red, no matter what program I am in. After writing a facebook (which i shall come to later) wall post which resembled a suivre:
LOL thats massively kewl! LOLZ u rok girlf! LOL!the squips of red rather disconcerted me. I reconsidered with a rather more conservative 'laugh out loud!'.
Secondly, my loss of ability to write anything remotely interesting, entertaining or witty such as to invite readers and potential publishers into my literary sphere. This has resulted in mass book collecting, writing everyday, in the hope that the loss is salvageable and not entire. Further such updates may ensue.
Three my newfound adoration of wordbuilding and making up words to suit the sounds I need, the descriptive morphology, phonology and orthography to establish that which I am trying to explain to whomsoever may be in the vicinity. This is perhaps not as fruitful as hoped, though these words are slowly seeping into my everyday vocabulary, thus further enriching and diversifying it. Three point five is my use of unnecessary or inappropriate words particularly adjectives in sentences.
Four, my complete failure in French. I think no more needs be said on this matter.
Fifth is my UNYA hackness and my apparently unquenchable desire to be consumed by UNYA in such a way as leaves no trace of my soul and but for my modest collection of stamps and Muse newspaper cuttings would all my remnants be lost. BKM better be appreciative.
Sixth is my unnerving desire to insure my new car, along with my echinaceal love of good health and painfreeuninterruptedmovement.
Seventh is my new addiction to facebook, the vice of the studying world, my foray into internet obsession and meandering thought trails. I feel journeyed alongside, shared and betrothed to a higher demon than those that tie me to facebook and not to my tortsbook. Alas this betrothal reminds me of brothel and thus eight.
Eight is unsurprisingly my desire to travel around WA. My WAphile status has long been knownst to myself, though to others it may serve as a reminder that I am slightly bizarre and off-kilter with the wants and desires of the contemporary Australian youth. That dirt just gets in your blood and courses through them veins, then you're suckered for good and can't think of nothing by saltbush, sandalwood, open horizons and lonely highway corners upon which one may meet a roadtrain. The minimalism and simplicity of it all has me virtually begging to be taken. TV programmes such as the circuit and a quick sojourn to Kalgoorlie neither helped nor abated this thirst.
Nine is my despisal for all things law related: employment, lectures, assignments, professors (bar Doug), Brenda McGivern (bless her), cases, tortsbook, laptop. Ouch. Don't shut down on me honey. You are also my gateway to outside world, I need.
Ten is the realisation that in order to avoid reading I will write an unnecessary list of things to entertain no one but myself. I think my blog is an empty alley, kind of lit by a light that keeps going out and then going white then going orange, a skip bin, high walls, odd smell. I skulk around here and kick around the grime for playtime things to do. Playlunch comes with the scurrying of feet.
Eleventh is my new love of wondering around, yes with an o, being only interested in things that interest me, coming to terms with people who don't like me (like you'd really waste time on that?) and my dislike of fibromyalgia.
For now c'est tout.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
