Sometimes, these things are surprisingly accurate...

You scored as The Vine. In Celtic astrology, you're a Vine (not everything on the zodiac is a tree). The animal symbol that accompanies this plant is the swan. The ancient Druids say Vine people are graceful, discriminating, perceptive, romantic and have good aesthetics. However, Vines may be prone to procrastination and anxiety. They may also appear emotionally detached or even stuck-up. The Ash 75% The Vine 75% The Birch 70% The Reed 65% The Rowan 65% The Ivy 65% The Hawthorn 65% The Oak 60% The Hazel 60% The Willow 50% The Holly 50% The Alder 40% The Elder 35% What Tree Are You? (Celtic astrology)/ created with QuizFarm.com

the ache of love

we all hurt. we all feel pain.
but it lives in some
it dwells in those
who cannot draw away

it seeps
like a slow stain
across our veins
through our clouds and into our stars

puts them out and
burns us sharply
'til we draw away in pain
into ourselves

then it's work is finished
and sated, it moves on
but should we, too, move on
it returns again to feed

and our breathless lifeless souls
know not the light of day
nor the joy of life
and sadly, die.

I can paint!

Every time i am faced with this page, i lose all motivation. To write, to speak to you, my invisible and perhaps even non-existent audience. Every post, every post i write is like blood drawn from a stone, and even then it is blood drawn from an old stone, one without much life anyway, probably ready to make its way down stream to the dreamy stone afterlife. So all we get is dregs, all you get is lifeless dregs and me, an unending sense of confusion and frustration. this, here, is the first time i have managed to put into words on this blog in a long time, exactly how i feel, and address it to whoever the hell cares. probably no one. check.

i feel the words sitting in me, like dead ducks, useless, smelly, decomposing. once brilliant and shiny, proud and works of God's good hand, now nothing, simply unusable, unloveable. there is no end to the waste in my life, my works. it's all very self centered, somewhat conceited, and you get the feeling that none of these words would come from me in real life, that in real life i am somewhat more modest, though in an ambivalent way and that in real life i would use shorter words, to make sure that not too many people might suspect my deviancy, my oddities, or my fascination with the conjurations of certain words and phrases. you would suspect that my life is a barren place, a kind of wasteland. and then you'd notice how i like to tie everything in, everything, relating back. a nice package, a tightly wrapped way of telling you not very much at all, all the while letting you think that you had some idea, that somewhere in the mess there was meaning and depth and intelligence. well, welcome to fucking happytown, reader. there is no meaning, depth or intelligence here. This here is a whole heap of shit that i dump on you regularly. go figure.

oh it is a good feeling, that one might return from a far away place of systematic self-destruction to the forefront of killing and disserting at you.

i don't know, that fire is going out now. those fast few minutes, just then. i captured something then. i think i might have these moments, but i'm just never near something i can channel or burn it into at the time. i think i like things fast. i am still new to this life thing, even though it rushes by daily, and is really, really loud. i am not sure. i think i like it fast, but maybe i like it slow. i like things to challenge me, but i hate being challenged. i like to be told what to do, but i despise orders. you take your pick, which idiot i am, but first dispose of that sexual innuendo and put away your judgement. there's only so much room for ego, and naturally this being my blog and all, it is mostly mine.

i think i am egotistical, hateful - no, not hateful - and never really sure of whether i am or not. i can't erase things, i can't forget things. i cry over old love, all unrequited, and mourn those not yet within view. i wonder if i will have children, or love, or a fast car. or a pony. then i wonder the superficial things, the imbuitive. like happiness. i wonder why i am waiting for things to fall at my feet, when i am standing under the balcony of the tight-pocketed and the hopeful. nothing much falls here, except tall poppies.

i'm sorry, i'm losing my thread. i'm not grasping much at the moment. it has been 10 minutes since i wrote anything. i'm like an alzheimer, drifting in and out of conscious thought. next minute, i'll be asking who you all are. all none of you. i confuse myself sometimes, with where i'm going. i forget things quickly, remember things i didn't even know happened. it's blurry. i can't remember if i can remember or not. maybe i'm going senile early. maybe this isn't early. maybe senility is proportionate to your capacity as... who knows what. capacity sounded right.

who are you all?

Just a long way to the bottom

i'm a lonely house
on a hill
near a lake
here i'm standing all alone
and playing happy
like a fake

got a smile on my face
grin and bear it
take it hard
off the shoulder
like a soldier
cannot bear it
feelin' scarred

built atop a mountain rise
that's 'bove the valleys
'bove the seas
can see all the land around me
to the mallees
and the trees

'cross the broken and the beaten
to the cemete
ries below
see the lost and the defeated
taunt the hated
kill the slow

to a vast and distant future
where the lonely
rule the world
bound as one by isolation
they are loved
and they are...

we all sit in our cocoons
just looking out
upon the land
darkened faces to the sun
we all reach
to take a hand

and be holding one another
and be close
again, to feel
what it feels to touch another
someone turgid
someone real

feel the rise of all their tendons
'neath the skin and
'neath the bones
touch and breathe with eyes wide open
hear their panting
flooding drones

but the shock that's built around us
stop us ventur
ing too far
from our worlds of sure-spun cotton
to our worlds
of...

it is here upon this mountain
that i might stay
enclosed, cocooned
away from raging seas
where i might be
marooned

bleating helpless like an eaglet
fallen from
it's cliff-top nest
is where i see myself in 10
at my hugest
at my best

bequeathed be me to the world at large
all grey feathers
all grey heart
forget my mine main metaphors
and having to
restart.

Je me demande...

You see, I really am perverse. And a bad person. This actually isn't the one that I got, the one I got was:












but, I'll let 'you' decide which one you think fits better. I think the philosopher sounds more enigmatic and isolated like me. Plus (pun!!!!!!) I'm not a mathematician, and so cannot calculate. But, I don't know me, you do. Plus, since when was I safe?

Adieu, mes amis, à demain.

Mine eyes, they are weeping

Oh, my one, my only, my darling. I wanted to leave you something beautiful. It has always been my dream, and even now, in what can only be the twilight of my long, beautiful day with you, all I can think of is leaving you with something you can treasure, something worthy of you, of your ethereal beauty, your timeless, ageless and breathtaking depth, wisdom. I fear that I shall fail, for a task like this seems only too gargantuan; for me, for anyone. But I can try; and if trying was worth as much as succeeding, I would succeed for you a million times over.

I can't really go anywhere from here. It's just writing, just words.


Oohhhh I am so sick of this. Writing, no, it's wrong, no more. Stop. Process. Misuse of language. Anger. Frustration. Inadequaecy. More anger. Contemplation. Confusion. Obfuscation. Oh. My. My. No, he doesn't approve. No, he doesn't get it. No, no one likes that.

What is this, dissertation? Unending, boring, platform shoes. Unetching pain and blinking eyes against driving rain. I can't decide which version of the truth to expound. Oh this is so frustrating. I can't follow a thought, I can't hold it, they come and go. Why so many negations? Why can't you just fucking write, get it over with, stop holding this cloud over your head, influence the weather and pull the fucking curtains closed on this. Oh stop it. STOP. You see. Anger. I AM SO ANGRY. I just wish a man could understand why I want to go and bury my head in the clay with some saltbush and sandalwood at my ankles. Ankles. Aaaaankles. Kles. Kneekneeknees. Ysmelda. Floor contact. Bah.

So, I have disserted little. I have failed. I should clairvoyify the rest of my life. Just go on and on. Why would you do that, that thing, that you did. Why would you say, those things, that you said. Why would you be and then be not to be, do what you do without doing a thing? I leave you; chrome mesh.

The world in which we live

Ah, if only everyone were this enlightened. This declaration comes from my friend Clare, an awesome and inspirational environmental studies (is that right Clare?) student from the University of Queensland. For me, her words say everything I need to say on how I feel about climate change, and with her permission, I am posting it here. I will write a more comprehensive Melbourne update soon, but to all of you with blogs, I would very much appreciate a link to this post wherever you can spare - this message should be spread as far and as wide as possible.

Take care.

rosie

__________________________________________________________________

25/11/06

Dear family and friends,

It is two days after my trip to Melbourne for the Australian Youth Climate Change Coalition (AYCCC) founding summit. The experience has been enormously empowering, the relationships rewarding, the discussions thought stimulating. While I feel sad to have left a group of such passionate, skilled, and compassionate people, their absence has not lessened my enthusiasm.

Coinciding with the summit, the Ziggy Switkowski report was released by the Australian government. I'm deeply distressed by the reports’ message that suggests nuclear expansion in Australia is a potential solution to climate change. As you may be aware, the report failed to discuss some of the key issues surrounding climate change such as the limited time-frame in which we have to act and by how much we need to reduce our emissions. It also concerns me that the report clearly reveals the existing vested interests of the government.

Anna Rose, one of the main organisers of the summit, was broadcast on ‘triple J’ (Hack) in relation to the governments’ proposal of nuclear as the solution to climate change. It is the first time an Australian Youth Climate Change Coalition has been established in Australia; over 50 delegates represented 34 youth organisations that will comprise the founding coalition members.

I’m sure you will hear more of us soon, as the government continues to exclude the voice of the generation that will be most affected by climate change.

If the current government had a serious and well-informed concern for climate change, the nuclear debate would not be on the table. It is dirty, dangerous and too expensive.

It is not a solution to climate change…
"The (Ziggy Switkowski) report makes the staggering conclusion that even if Australia was to build 25 nuclear reactors by 2050, it would only cut Australia's emissions by between 8-18%. This shows what a greenhouse fraud nuclear power is when energy efficiency and renewables alone could cut our emissions by 30% by 2020."
-Doctor's nuclear prescription no solution to climate change, 21-Nov-2006.

The draft report of the Uranium Mining and Processing Nuclear Energy Review (UMPNER) published 21/11/06, http://www.dpmc.gov.au/umpner/reports.cfm

Most importantly, Australia does not need nuclear. We have the solutions to climate change. What we lack is not safe technology, but the political will to implement these technologies. Contrary to what the government will try to have you believe, geosequestration (aka "Carbon Capture") is another example of something we do not need, not least of all because it is no solution to climate change. This technology is unproven to be successful (in not damaging the environment). It is not compatible with current generators. It will be ten years or more before this technology proves viable, and judging from the urgent pleas by scientists all over the world we do not have the luxury of time.

The Australian government is stifling the renewable energy industry, denying it much needed funding. This has caused almost all investments into renewables to leave Australia and head for foreign economies. Some US$2 Trillion is to be invested into the renewables industry in the next 15 years, generating many jobs…but not in Australia, unless we change our tactics.

Australia’s current position is tied up in convincing us that capturing carbon and building Nuclear power plants along Australia’s east coast (exact locations as yet undisclosed) are the only viable solutions.

It is just another example of how we alienate ourselves from the global community. We are so far behind, I cannot stress it enough. Solar, wind and geothermal technologies are all extremely viable, successful and safe options. And have insurmountable social benefits as well.

Imagine not having an electricity bill, being able to afford organic food and sponsor a child overseas.

Imagine community centres that are safe, self-sufficient and sustainable, that do not jeopardise your children’s futures and foster sustainability and human connections.

Ask a coal-community what they think of living in an area where the only available jobs are related in some way to a coal mine or power-plant. Are they happy? Imagine if they received the same opportunities to reach their full potential as you are receiving.

Imagine the Australian landscape devoid of radioactive waste with no risk from nuclear fallout.

Imagine seeing the isolated, ignored and highly vulnerable indigenous communities in rural or outer-urban parts of Australia solar-powered and self-reliant (rather than dependent on the polluting diesel engines for their power), with their health improving and culture blossoming…it’s one of the very least efforts we could make for them. It would be a start - a gift that says; we are truly sorry and respect your connection to the land.

There is no doubt that my personal actions and our collective actions as Australians, born 200 years ago of the European mentality, have drastically changed the natural environment of air, water and land in Australia.

I’m so constantly devastated each day that so few people pay attention to this crisis. But more so that I live in a country that is run by dishonest, disconnected and manipulative leaders that have no regard for the interest of my future and my children’s futures.

I have the right to freedom of speech, but it is a hypocritical government who then denies me their listening ears. I’m 19, and one of the politically significant rights that come with adulthood is being able to vote. But it is not enough. I have no visible impact on the leaders who are meant to be representing my interests, or more broadly, the interests of youth. Perhaps if I were the daughter to a CEO of a coal/electricity/aluminium/petroleum/minerals/cement corporation my plea would not fall on deaf ears. Why is the government not listening to the cries of youth? (or have I just answered that question?)

We, youth, care about our future, our planet, and therefore we are willing to put aside any other compromising actions that have the potential to ruin our lives and the lives of future generations.

I have literally been consumed by this issue for the last year or more of my life. I began with nature itself. A hike in the mountains in central Europe sparked something in my heart that I do have words for. On returning to Australia, the fear I felt was nothing in comparison to the deeply personal challenges I experienced in Slovakia. This, to me, says something profound. The contrast between a struggling post-communist country and a wealthy, indulgent, highly ‘removed’ Australia was so severe.

In so many ways I am lucky I went there. Slovakia was just enough political crisis, social division, environmental disregard and emerging western-tainted youth to destroy all my preconceptions about the world, but not so much as to stop my heart from beating.

I believe I went there for a reason. I don’t regret the experience, indeed I must not, for I wouldn’t be here writing this had I not gone. But appreciating and reflecting on such life journeys is one thing; taking action is another.

My next step was educating myself. I felt, and indeed there was, an enormous void in my understanding of the planet, of the physical make-up and function of life itself. For the last year I have not only been soaking up wells of knowledge from lecturers and text-books, but I have pursued other forms of media to expand my knowledge of the existing environmental crisis that each day knocks more loudly on Australia’s and the worlds’ door.

I would not be exaggerating when I say that each lecture has been immensely frightening. To gain this knowledge and to have it affirmed by subsequent events such as dam proposals, droughts, severe storms, cyclones, species extinctions, our pacific neighbours losing their homes from rising sea-levels (!), media propaganda, acute lack of political will and much more, has been both motivating and enormously disempowering.

I distinctly remember one afternoon waiting for the bus to uni and wanting to run out onto Corronation Dr and stop all the cars in my path. These ineffective measures did cross my mind. I am not stupid, I can clearly see that in the long run this would have made little if any impact, but this gives you an idea of the emotions that flood me when I can no longer take the complacency that surrounds the Australian culture.

We have and are witnessing destructive forces of nature now arising around the world. These have been caused and amplified by us, humans. And we are all responsible for the mitigation of these disasters.

Australia has contributed microscopically to climate change mitigation but grossly to plundering the atmospheric makeup. Our nation’s emissions have increased 20% since the Kyoto protocol was born. We are the largest per capita emitters of CO2 in the world! We are perpetuating global climate change due to our lack of engagement in environmental issues in addition to social and political issues.

They say that change comes slowly. I accept that maybe that has been the case in much of our history as a species. But during the last hundred years of our 150 thousand year existence, women have gained the right to vote, Apartied has been defeated (almost overnight), slavery has largely been abolished; on a smaller more personal scale this year I think I helped deeply changed at least one persons’ mind-set toward the environment. Imagine if all these transitions had not occurred?

Stopping climate change is one such transition that needs to occur. But it is complex.

It encompasses our self-identity and challenges (yet again) humans’ perception of their place in nature.

It encompasses the divide between the 80% of the global population that has 20% of the global wealth and the other which is drowning in its own domestic and industrial waste due to massive consumption patterns.

It encompasses our economic strategy and foundations.

It encompasses the relationship and moral obligation between different generations.

It encompasses the way our societies are run and the very fact that they are just such, run by an elite few. Where is a true participatory democracy?

It encompasses our personal actions, relationships, and attitudes.

In short, it encompasses everything and everyone.

A short while ago, I heard a discomforting statement made by a person I work with. He proclaimed his strategy to gaining followers as such that one should talk about something as if one knew everything about it, leading the listener into a sense of agreement. I hoped at the time that it was merely a joke, but it struck me how evident this tactic is in our society and how accurately this describes the leading politicians in Australia.

The fact that they advocate nuclear and geosequestration as the two most important solutions to climate change clearly demonstrates their immense lack of understanding in the issue.

Do you know what I love? I love that this is not the kind of situation where I must say, “I don’t know the answers”. I do. After learning the concepts of how global ecosystems are failing, I began to search for solutions and found them to be bountiful. I joined a group of students on campus that convened together once a week. I sat. I listened. I observed their passion, their different backgrounds, their expressions when a consensus on a decision was reached. I listened and questioned their views on the world.

I continued to sit with them each week, hopeful and willing to do whatever it took to make some positive change. I have learnt so much from this group of people and the subsequent events, talks, conferences, conversations, films and books that either fell into my lap or came to exist in my brief possession because of my hard-headed search.

The solutions. Yes, there are many. And they are staring us in the face. There are many ways by which we as a people and individuals can steer our cities, our land, our air, our waterways, our oceans, our biodiversity, our forests towards sustainability. Towards a condition that will allow these things to remain. Because this is what we’re facing; the question of “will we choose to survive or will we let our human frailties cause collapse?”

Short-term interests are of little relevance. When the oceans lap over our coastal habitat inundating infrastructure, when cyclones cause further damage to our homes and croplands, when more sever droughts cripple agriculture and displaces loyal farmers, then might we realise that economic growth, watching our favourite sitcom or the new car we desire are sources of momentary happiness that ignore the bigger picture?

In this last week, I have joined with more than 50 other youth representatives to discuss problems and create solutions to climate change. At every moment of the summit I wished everyone that I have ever loved and hated in my life was there. It would have been bliss to see both my mum and John Howard in the room at once.

I am past the division present in our societies. Climate change demands that we all begin to cooperate, not aggressively with only our own interests at heart, but compassionately with the interests of ALL at heart.

It has been a year since I have written anything personal to the people I know. I have been consumed by learning and acting upon information. I have bombarded you all with facts and upcoming events, in the vain hope that you will respond to my impersonal call.

I thought wanting to save the planet whilst maintaining relationships and my creative outlets was a pitiful dichotomy. But I am realising that without these emotional life-supports I cannot save the planet, nor vice versa.

Like the ever-evolving cicadas that adorn the mango tree in our northern Queensland backyard each year, I will shed many layers throughout my life, I’m certain. These represent my weaknesses, my naivety, my grudges and my insecurities. But like the cicadas hard yet fragile epidermis, the recycling of matter will ensure that new skins are formed, giving renewed strength, or in my case, renewed knowledge, purpose and hope.

Soon, the Australian Youth Climate Change Coalition (AYCCC) declaration will be released to the public, a firm and open statement by youth of what is wrong and what desperately needs to be done in Australia to stop climate change. This is my personal declaration to all persons I know and love.

There is time to waste, but we would be self-condemning if we waited the time away. I’m but one person who is needed to solve climate change. We are in this together.

A lonely portal in a backgalaxy

Though apparently galactically themed, this has nothing rather to do with the sort. It is a dissertation on all that has lay'd here before now, and that which will lay here to come.

Hers was a life of light, of laughter. Of lumiescence and love, a life lived in luxury. There were no dark corners in her world. Each inch lit brightly, each rock turned, each hovel discovered and crafted. She was a white, a pink, a yellow, a bright colour, she flowed with colour and life and ribboned everywhere. She spread like pollen on the wind through a room, settling on everything, seeding everything. She was blonde, her rambunctious hair overflowing from confines and into cascades of gold. Her procured smile, her distant sun close upon the horizon. Her skin neither started nor ended, it spread in soft ripples over every shining inch of her. There was nothing on her that was dull, nothing quiet, nothing that simmered. She bubbled and boiled and didn't let up.

He had never known light. He was dark, in every way. From his black eyes, to skin smeared with black, with grime and filth and death. His black spread more to his soul, coming in from the night, the dark alleys he inhabited, the strong smell of whiskey and thick black smoke of a thousand breaths on his breath, his hands, his face. The dark entered him through every orifice, in every pore it stuck. His long stringed hair hung thickly about him. He was nimble, heavy boots curling about his feet, his quick long fingers grabbing, taking what he wanted. To him, there was no light. To him, black, dark, lived in and on. For them to meet, would be a collision of worlds, of cosmic forces. No such meeting could be by chance. Such a meeting was fate, was destined, was meant. There were no chances. There was no fate.

He met her in a dark room, flickering with light. She, lit. He darkened corners. It was a hot night and she was damp with sweat, earthy, heated. She moved, over, over, the steady beat in and in. He stood. He moved to her. Drawn, moth to flame, predator to prey. He touched her, she did not know. So it went on.

He took her limp body, and took it for all to see. He left her for all to enjoy the light. But she glowed no more. It was only death, only death. It was meant. There was so much missing, so much mystery. She was and then she wasn't. From there, he melted to the background, to the black, to the dark.

Avoidance Tactics

I am not studying. Why? Because I have an exam tomorrow. As soon as desperation and dire straits are on the horizon, I go into shutdown mode and instead put curlers in my hair and watch such satisfying moves as Anna and the King. I am looking at a practise problem about Squiggle, Steam Shovel and Pat. Ooh, Anna and the King are arguing. OH go Siam-man. GO! Oh shoosh Jodie Foster. You're annoying. And stupid.

So, upon this threat of death by exam tomorrow, I must go and at least pretend that I will be able to write something, even though I shan't. I've never done practise writing before, and I suppose now that I start, I'll do horridly.

I wish I lived in 1836 Siam.

Poll

Awesome people have more fun. Discuss.

Any minute now

Any minute now, my ship is coming in
Silent tears - as silent as tears can be - crashing down my cheeks, flushed red, the blood rushing through them. You tell me take the light into me. To understand, to follow through with the plans I have made. I can only crease my forehead and grin. Not grin. Clench my teeth and decry all I behold. I can only come upon this pain I am in and suddenly feel. Only now, only now. The irony slaps me in the burning red face. My mask is wearing thin and only now can I see through the eyes. I lived all my goshed life numb and happy, no pain no pleasure. Why take the bad with the good when you can have the nothing? I reasoned.

Time is leaving me. You take my hand and hold it close to your waist. My love, my love, my love. Don't burn alone. I'll burn with you.

And suddenly the brightest words in my life shine like a beacon in the endless dreary night that carries on like a long held F in a chorus of E. It's cloudless, sadless. It's an echoey hall. I'll. burn. with. you.

With you.

With.

With me!

The wave of tiredness crashes down on me, a great wall of weariness, washing, waking. We don't burn.

No, no, no tears from you. I can only silently cry. Long ago the silence started. You must not.You must follow the path ahead, the plans we had made. Follow the dusty grainy path, where no footsteps lie ahead of you. I, my love, my love, must stop here. The flush of red has spread. I am lying here. They come for me now, I can see that. Any minute now. Any minute. Second. Go, love. Don't weep, I will not remain here. Time is leaving me. Be still, go on, take my light, I don't need it now. Don't wait for your life to happen. Be there before it does, before someone else takes hold, and takes you away, before your face flushes red and you lie in white on a bed not yours on a night not your own, with blood that is yours not in you. Stay on your path, your side of the road.

Any minute now.

Ponderous thoughts

The little things I've learnt that probably mean nothing.

the only thing worse than not getting what you want is getting what you want and realising you were wrong.

the only people who can hurt you are the people you allow to get close enough to do so

doing what's right is not always doing what's best, much the same as doing what is wrong is not always doing what's worse: i guess it's a question of conscience.

nice out don't equal nice in.

truth is what you don't want to hear.

lies are what you don't need to hear.

it is far easier to get along with someone nothing like you

winning little victories doesn't make you stronger, but letting them go does

letting people get under your skin is a process of listening > processing > accepting

being told what to do makes you want to do the complete opposite

politics is a playground with cameras and suits

being boring is only a matter of having no interest in the world outside

it is impossible to drive and talk on the phone and try and reach your ipod that has fallen on the ground at the same time

no matter what vendetta you lead, people like paris hilton will still find ways of being public idiots

...and my current favourite

the irony in being free to do what you want is that you must not do what you are told

ho hum yes.

xxx

Forty-five oranges buried in a tree

It's a cool field of green
and a world where lying is forbode
In chains that hold and home us
in hell where cold meets furnace
it's the impossible that's possible
and the real that never hap'd
only babies feel the tremble
in their tiny toes
as that bit of life we had left
drains away as apathy
and what we had worth living for
is worthless now, sold for nowt
and the cold replaces the furnace
being chained to it
reigned to it
held to it and
drawn to it
we chant and breathe
and wild-eye dance
around the last flame
of the everlasting never
i'm taken by the moment
and i say 'i'm still alive'
and eyes widen
blanched hands back away
and they come to take me away
but seeing never's coming
it doesn't matter anyway.

Who dost thou knoweth?

One day, I'll just shatter.

It's always the good people that have to go.

She alleges that you may have compromised his position. That is what they all say.

Don't say what you're thinking.

Beauty isn't skin deep. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it's also on the inside. With messages like this it's no wonder the beauty industry rakes it in. We're all too confused.

It was just business.

Qu'est-ce que vous aimez manger avec des amis?

I can hear music playing and it's just weird. It's playing and it's incomplete. There's a sense of a somewhat irritable and formidable bass. Let's try this.

I totally know what is going on. I am in control. Or I should say, I have control. How can you be in an intangible concept? What is control anyway?

I sure as heck know what it isn't. And it isn't this.

Rosie the Political

Your Political Profile:

Overall: 40% Conservative, 60% Liberal

Social Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 75% Conservative, 25% Liberal

Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal

How Liberal Or Conservative Are You?

Here we go, Jeremy nagged me about this a while ago and I just did it - reveal anything? Let me know, oui oui? Haha xoxox

The Faceless Challenge

I like this blog. I can hide here. It is my hideyhole, perhaps.

Of what to blog? It is the question I am apparently never able to answer, being somewhat of a serial nonsense blogger however I find comfort in my present ability to create longwhinded texts of virtually no substance and which upon further inspection or retrospect, would produce no valuable thoughts or contribution to intelligent discussion. As such, I proceed with no caution but instead reckless abandon for human understanding, and as Hoju so adequately declares it, genius.

I often wonder of the faceless people who have brought to me things such as television, servietters, meat trays and balloon text. I like to imagine that these amazingly brilliant people thought of something entirely on their own - so that I can wonder harbour that same success and produce something wildly effective and retro that will get the blood pumping in the veins of human improvement. I wonder of the hands who first formed pastry, the mind that first conceived the thought of displacing human theory and placing it aeons behind and in front of us, allowing us to abstract our thoughts beyond the mundane and routine, the menial and definite, and instead placing us in a vacuumn of delicious uncertainty and faithlessness. Why, when one thing can be disproved, surely can another? Yet in the case of all negatives, we manage to ignore the fact that if one thing can be proved, surely all others can too. It it still amazing to me that negatives cancel out, but positives simply add up. So in this tidal wave of insecurity and certainty that there is in fact no certainty, we rolick along imagining the impossible and convincing ourselves that while things may seem impossible, Jesus walked on water and Margaret Thatcher was married, and so of course there must be some intervening force or instead large comet of luck streaking its away around our universe, the tail end occasionally catching the less believable in its orbital race to nowhere. We, because of one faceless person who first understood that abstraction was a form of living, but in unquantifiable terms to the present, correct and three-dimensional human being, believe in belief and disbelief, impossible and possible and faith in not having the slightest titch, all at once. But for that one person, we would not have that capability as an abstracting species, and as such, a species able to speculate, plan, and prepare for what we may believe upon extrapolative inspection, to occur. Does that make us unique, supreme, or cursed beyond belief - for surely to know what is coming makes the pain ten times worse? It's like when you know someone is going to hit you and you close your eyes and the spot you think will be hit hurts, or throbs, or tingles, but the assault does not come. Or when it does, you have prepared for the pain, and emit a preordained response which is - "Oh my God, I've been hit. Painpainpainpainpain."

But is this even true? But for one person, we are set apart? What if it were merely chance that this person, this man or woman, stumbled upon this? Would someone else have stumbled upon it in much the same way? Did it initially die out? Was it like the biological principle of evolution - in which mutants occurred, and depending on the usefulness of the mutation, either bred it in or out of the species. Were the men/women who dreamed up abstracticity (ah, new word time) more attractive for their ability to predict, their ability to dream and to imagine, and move towards something instead of milling around in what they already had? Or did abstracticity somehow afford them a survival skill lacked by their unendowed counterparts, perhaps the ability to simply stay under cover in times of cloud, or keep food when they knew cold weather was coming? Did these faceless people know what they were thinking would shape our species to the degree that it has today? That in all we do - abstracticity is inherent and indeed essential to conceptual understanding of things as simple as the need to brush one's teeth to prevent rot, or to attend university in preparation for a profession.

The question here, dear reader/s, is perhaps more one of belief, as strangely it appeared to be before. Was this even, in the beginning, a human trait? Or did we, as many may argue, simply assume it from our predecessors, and make it our own, capitalise on it with our additional abilities and regurgitate it as the supreme human trait? Is it not but for the thoughts of one human, but instead, for the natural progression of evolution, a predetermined path upon which we tread, insistent of our command of fate, yet doubtful of it when it all goes wrong.

I ask you - as I seem to have been doing quite a bit - to consider this: Is there ever one person who catalyses something as natural as abstract thought, language or religion? Is it our ability to thing abstractly and subsequently act on those abstractions with reasonable faith that we are correct, that makes us uniquely human and able to command over all other species in intellectual superiority? Is there really any other expression than language that could present to you an argument, such as this, that is so abstract and conceptual that even I struggle to remember where I am at? And why on earth do we have faith in things in which we have no certainty?

I put it to you, dear reader, that these are questions we cannot nearly begin to answer.

With all due respect,
Moi.

Where's it going?

As i write this while i'm supposed to be doing french, it won't be anything to deep or profound or for that matter ecclesiastical.

This is a poem I wrote a little while back on the bus. I know, corny naming-ending relationship and a suitable rhythm, but you get that on a bus. Je pense. haha

Soul Reception

Where am I even going
at this hour
of the night
what am I even doing
out of fear
out of fright?
Am I fleeing from pursuers
at my heels
day and night
and I running from the sewers
from the dark
to the light?
So am I tired, am I worn
am I red
am I blue
what is there left to finish
now there's nothing
left to do
Am I left or am I right
do i say
just what is true
is it my fault you're unhappy
have i brought this
upon you
so as the darkness on the outer
draws in closer
to my heart
i am fearful of the end
for i can hear it
as it starts
and i see the wall approaching
pass the mall
and pass the mart
the darkness comes around me
and i
am ripped apart
and all those tiny beads of me
go up
into the sky
as laying on the pavement
i am now
about to die
and i think of what i did and laugh
then chuckle
then sigh
because nothing i remember
was worth
my goddamned time
so with mirth and wry damnation
i curse
my whole deception
that what i'd done was enough
as i head
to soul reception.

Where's it going?

As i write this while i'm supposed to be doing french, it won't be anything to deep or profound or for that matter ecclesiastical.

This is a poem I wrote a little while back on the bus. I know, corny naming-ending relationship and a suitable rhythm, but you get that on a bus. Je pense. haha

Soul Reception

Where am I even going
at this hour
of the night
what am I even doing
out of fear
out of fright?
Am I fleeing from pursuers
at my heels
day and night
and I running from the sewers
from the dark
to the light?
So am I tired, am I worn
am I red
am I blue
what is there left to finish
now there's nothing
left to do
Am I left or am I right
do i say
just what is true
is it my fault you're unhappy
have i brought this
upon you
so as the darkness on the outer
draws in closer
to my heart
i am fearful of the end
for i can hear it
as it starts
and i see the wall approaching
pass the mall
and pass the mart
the darkness comes around me
and i
am ripped apart
and all those tiny beads of me
go up
into the sky
as laying on the pavement
i am now
about to die
and i think of what i did and laugh
then chuckle
then sigh
because nothing i remember
was worth
my goddamned time
so with mirth and wry damnation
i curse
my whole deception
that what i'd done was enough
as i head
to soul reception.

Figures in the Dark

It's like that time when your parents yelled at you and you had this fantastic comeback and then they shut you down and you simmered for months thereafter in the bitterness and hate that was resentment - at your loss of expression, at your denial of fundamental human rights, and a lost cause to get more money.

There's nothing you can do about it, so you don't try. You just sit in the glum and you hate them more and more. And they act all the more parenty. You wanna fuckin kill something because you can't express what you need to.

It's like that 'ere, right on. Figure A, deceiving you to the best of its abilities in an effort to impress Figure A.1. You resent Figure A, because you get told you are the most important for so long, and when something better comes along, you're out. The Beta version (that's you) is out, and alpha Figure supercedes you in every way possible. You feel usurped of a power you never had, but were willing to believe for a time you did.

Figure B you have recently discovered, must to the displeasure of what you considered to be your good taste, is a nincompoop. Where you once thought lay depth and vision, one unlike any other, you realise it is just another, wearing a rabbit suit instead of a man suit. You were led astray, believing, more wanting to believe than ever having faith in your ability to judge, that you had found one different; refreshing ; deep and thoughtful, and yet you were faced, once the rabbit suit came off and you opened the door before the opportunity arose to rerobe, that below the deceivingly different exterior, a man suit lay as with all the rest, and you shut the door, disenchanted, alone, and visciously unsettled. Figure B, if possible, comes equal first with Figure A, and each sits upon the dais in a sweet, ignorant, bemusement at how they had tricked you so.

Figure C resembles the greater populus of Figures, for figures do not, for simplicity, go past C. You thing - with so much water, how do we not gain more depth? - but forget that with nothing substantial to hold the water, it flows as far as is waterly possible, to cover as much ground and to hide as much of their earthy interior as the stretch will allow. The mating call sounds like that of a cheap bird, the laughs perfunctory, the responses rehearsed and perfected, the nonchalant attitude to living as powerfully self-evident as the apathy to conform. They claim, they claim, we are, we are! But you know they are not. They are not, and they cannot help it. You would pity them, but every fibre in your body disallows you to feel remorse for those who would never dream of feeling it for you.

And your figures are laid out. The voodoo kit in your hand twitches as you are startled by someone drifting in behind you, a soft breeze accompanying the opening and closing of the door.

It's figure X, and they hold you dearly. And while Figures A through C fight it out for top dog of unhappiness, you cling to X; the real world, where none who are so disturbingly, aggravatingly and infuriatingly self-obsessed, self-absorbed, dependent, poncey, whoosey, and unbearably incomplete to their gender roles, for life, for living in every other sense as is definitively human bar breathing and bodily functions, and as figures in the human sense, could ever make it like you.