well that was a big load of bullshit.

this is where it needs to happen, this is where i need to build. think about ''things'' then find some focus. the trouble is what i really want to write about is the really tuff stuff. but then why not, people are too self absorbed to seek this shit out. it's as safe as my note books really. so what is it that i really want to explore? how close i came to losing another one? how close really? how do we know the signs of seriousness. he told me he'd taken pills, lead me to beieve that he'd taken enuf to drift him off. turns out he took 8. enuf to fuck him up, sure, but not enuf for eternal sleep. i kept telling him to find me...

i have to do something

i need to find my flow again, mebbe i can find it here?

and still i'm stepping on eggshells.

i have these things that i want, but i don't seem to be able to move forward as quickly as the rest of the world, well the successful rest of the world

and still i'm stepping on eggshells.

i know complaining about it wont help.

i have had some victories, but were they misguided? no, of course not.

and still i'm stepping on eggshells.

i cant shake hope, i still want to fight. there are words to be said and worlds to be formed.

i cant stop stepping on eggshells,

more is more.

so you're back on the bus & it's another month & even another year since you were here & the destinations have changed too. there's been a shift, not just in you but in the world and its as frightning as a fucking tsunami that you can see approaching when you've always kept so far from the sea in the past.

the church is still there & the sandle shufflers still bombard my mailbox at any opportunity but i've always followed my heart which open up a whole new set of worms & rules rules rules which you follow on instinct carrying only your safety word & cab fare home. the usual spatt breaks out at the stop opposite where a recent stabbing took place. most of them are here for the methadone but you're pretty sure the resident backlash of right minded people & personalities will take care of all the riff raff soon. not that you mind, adds a bit of colour & movement, distraction from the banal as you sit & you ponder the merits of change.

...

okay time to fantasize the muse. flow is such a feminine name for one so masculine, more like rocky.

so we're hanging together, my muse & me, when he reveals he's always dreamed of being an illiterate but some things are so hard to unlearn without an icepick & an oedipus fixation. so as i dream the possibilities the next thing i know we're well into our 3rd topic of conversation and i'm starting to get jittery because i'm not used to such high quality repartee. but anyway, the mood shifts like disappointing correspondence and the whole place darkens under the spectre of a doctor who mystery and i just know some weird shit's gunna happen soon.

don't look back look forward.

so much to say, so many thoughts but watch them dry like water in the desert, like ink in a pen as i sit here and carry on my avoidance behaviours. gotta get to social security, but hold on, what were those feelings? anyone?
at least the pen is moving, but bending? i just cant say.
ok so it's another day and have used that line before (&before, & before) but it's all just straw clutching at best. how to find the paroxysm gem? you find it in the corner, and in pain, you find it in the growing up and in the not growing up, when you're supposed to  - wot the fuck is that about?

it's about bad habits and habitually being bad and bad consequences and non sequential nonsense badly misspelled. i do hope that was at least gramatically correct because i really *liked* it. imagination can be slippery and ethereal no matter how many roman togas you want to dress him in. more like a snake in the garden of eden, there when times are tough and decisionmaking time has come - don't look back look forward.

i definitely think that i should take advantage , at least temporarily of a singular position on a larger bus. and then chris martin pipes up in his beautiful falsetto telling me everything's alright and i believe him because his voice matches my brain chemistry. even the bus gets a wide on for chris.

summin i ''found''

ok, it rolls on, the catastrophic, karmic, diabolic shit storm that is... being.

and here i am the next day which is in fact a better day in that is is a day of moving forward - a little. i am a non smoker i am a non smoker i am a non smoker. oh, go on, for old times sake...

bruised tatoos & blind psyches, lift me up like madonna, get me outta here before i blush and turn purple in the heart. in china pollution makes the rivers turn black and catch fire so i'm panic surfing in a heat  that tightens my skin in alarm and defence. the heavy weight of gravity rocks in my mind that cascade to the eternal nothingness, a sponge landing. the blank absorbent nite lets the spirals fly, but impotent like a spent firecracker i struggle to rise.

it may be my disfiguring scars that bring my charisma but i can be the deliverer of bad news and arrogant axioms - the paradigm needs to shift to me. dialling numbers on a disconnected line....

.......



........

the winter days pass, the summer days pass, most with little acknowledgement from me.

just doin it just doin it just doin it just doing it just doing it just doin it just doing it just...

i dont really know who i am or where i am going or what's up with the twich in my buttocks or why my glasses wont stay on my face, i dont even know the muffin man, well, not in any real sense anyway. i am familiar with his work tho.

punk, punk, diy & dont give a fuck. well i got the attitude down pat, & i guess you could say iv earned my membership, but with reward comes responsibility so please help me flow.
ha! was gunna cheat but...
just doing it just doin it just doin it just doin it just doin it just doing it just doing it just doing it just...

fuckenshame i cant force this shit. ok, one for my american friends...

hey, wait...

ok well, i want to feel desolate, i feel so safe here in my cave with the heater high (and so am i) but thats not doing it for me anymore. so let me look at this.. i try, i get beaten down, i go back to my cave, my cave does not have the same attraction to it cos i want to be happy. pathetically true.

solids

...and there's so much fucking moisture in the air that it forms drops not of rain but of sweat - god's sweat falls from the sky. only trouble is i'm not clever enough for intelligent design so i have no idea what is happening to me... until it's all just blind screaming, you know, the kind nobody can hear.

so it leads me to thinking, do suicides log out of their social networking sites before they do it? do they just leave a last status update then... r**k is available - so there is seemingly no need to worry....

quiet now, calm in the night, on the outside, in the dark it is clear but inside, inside me nothing is clear and i cant seem to find an explanation or even the right questions. he says he's ok. ok. he says he's only taken a non lethal dose but after telling me that he loves me but he cant go on which one do i believe? who? i get played so easily, fall into the myth that people are good, people are good for each other. but like everything, everything is problematic.

i'm here, still. now posting daily.

hey babee-s.
yes, that's right, it's ok.
well...
when i say ''ok'' i mean the roller coaster it more high than low. its just that
it feels so much more situational, you know, environmental than anything that i actually do.
sigh.
a real mystery hey?

so there is not much movement on the real life stuff, but 1) i'm here - cos daily postings attract attention & 2), well, i'm here.

so i'd better give you summing to read then, summing creative...


it's not so much the night that brings the heartache, but the black that cannot seem to be penetrated for love or money that makes you tense up in the back and in your belly. things happen ''out there'' that may not be in your control, so it is much safer to stay inside. the rain comes. and i am not so much a shut-in as a refugee.

the days aren't that much better. paralysis wrackes every shred of emotional development is still too true but i cannot keep repeating cos isn't it a journey? and don't the dishes still need to be done?

then ''im putting out fire with gasoline''

struggling but better/fear of failure fear of success/it doesn't take a lot of rocket science to analyse this little munt.

ok flow was kind last time and i need to get creative as this is about finding my voice not sticking my finger up my arse cos i like the way it feels.

yeah, well it is tomorrow already and progress has been made which i guess i must acknowledge but ouch. but then everything is pretty ouchy at the moment so why should success be any different?

so i was in the supermarket yesterday not feeling myself & certainly not feeling anyone else & i found it hard to focus my eyes or even raise then without them being inunndated with imges that repeated & repeated in a consumerist nightmare (or wet dream) and i know now why kids crack it & everyone gives in to the giving up their hard earned dollars. it was awful wen i normally dont hate shopping.

wow. and by that i mean wow.

i'm not too sure wots happened here but i feel i have to acknowledge it, but i do feel better after attaching those tags & acknowledging my feelings. they are dank & dire, but that's ok. because it has to be.

softly softly catchee monkey

ok trying to hold onto threads of the perception that it's gunna be alright. cos thats what there is, THIS is what there is so you'd better get it sista, before everyone else gets there first.

ultimately we all only have two choices, to stay or to go. all the rest is just window dressing.

it's time to do some WORK.

ok wot we need is a bit of stream of consciousness. what we really need is a big dose of flow. but wot is gunna take me there? where is the spark?

so the pills that are stashed in a high up/out of the way place are not so out of the way that i cannot access them with ease. in fact they are so tantilisingly close that it is an active thing i am doing, not touching them. s'ok. but i need to point out that the pills that can take care of bizniz are just an arm reach away. now if i was to make that arm reach i would still have choices. yes, i said choices, plural. i could take 1, calm things down a little. i could take 2, calm things down a lot. or i could neck the bottle. calm hey?

ok, so i'm not lying but i am trying. and to that end i am staying here with my codependent friend and have plugged myself into sum binaural beats. i am not stretching and reaching, only in my mind. and i think we do need to give ourselves space, and more importantly, compassion to think these things. we should allow ourselves these thoughts but we should use them to motivate us to break thru. success is the ultimate revenge huh?

it's time to hit the white noise.

...i'm writing this blog to put of some dangerous practices.

ok, lets get a bit of perspective & keep us all travelling forward. & yes i did say ''all'' in a family of the head/dId kinda way cos in a way aren't we all full of multipled? they may not differentiate as hard & fast as in the psychotic, but surely when we talk to ourselves who are you talking to? just how far do you want to take that thought really, because really, when it's all boiled down in a rendering pot we're all just munted worms of the earth trying to find a bit of shelter from the wind.

ha!

i wish it was that easy.

then.. then.. people are arseholes.

so i got sabotaged on the way to my happy place. bastard.

pretty painful, & i may write it out later, but aaahhhh!!!

& why did i let myself get sucked in?

anyway, this was not wot this blog was supposed to be. this blog is about finding my voice, finding my style, finding my place in the world. i want to kinda do stream of consciousness stuff & i want it to be gold. so here goes...

the influences of the greats now grate against my fibres and i cant seem to break free of the memories of other amazing lyrics & lines that we have already written. if nothing is original then why do i struggle? can we not see that although we are unique we just dont care?

well that was shit. here's summing i wrote on the bus today, getting closer...

i could take him
mr. right here
right now
i could setlle for less
than the best for once.
mostly i get nothing
so less is better,
yeah?

but i'd rather beat myself over the head with a crow bar.

i'm just not ready to give up the quest.

i've been reading them for years. i could keep reading for another million and still would not be done with everybody elses happy endings.

i say i have hope but do i?

in a fake it to make it scenario i'm just not that good an actor.

this is another half arsed attempt.

well i did the bare minimum today, got the bomb put under me and moved forward, a little. letters were written & zines were copied (my originals, no stealing you unnerstand). i guess in the small picture this is good, in the big picture it is a piss in the ocean.

''how you doin?''

''standing on the abyss, trying not to slip.''

progress i guess. of sorts. i need to practice action, writing action. doing action too for that matter. 

couldn't even get it together to hit the publish button, good grief. i will keep trying tho peeps. xxx

he walked into the room and it was not like he had imagined.

xxx or i'm trying a bit of self love.

i cant say im not knocked down but i guess i'm not defeated. i do keep making positive steps, steps that i have wanted to take for a long time, but in terms of real life i...

i need to get creative here, i need to refind flow. i want to get a style. ok, think of summing to write about.

oh look guys, i'm gunna find summing to post for you, summing better than this shite. you dont have to put up with this

so i’m on another train but it’s not another day it’s night time and i’m heading back to lego land with a thorn in my side and a morrissey cd in my backpack, but the funny thing about being on the train from warnambol is that it’s moving when you join it, mid-journey and it’s a fast moving train where i get the feeling that it could be the gypsy train to nowhere. but i’m going somewhere baby; i’m going “places”. the place i arrive at is luckily my destination and i’m about to transact some business with a fish monger when i realise i’m flat broke (as well as broken). stoney broke like the cobbles that i stand on. dead broke like the fish eyes and their fixed stare. their mouths glisten and whisper sweet nothings into my ear. he tells me i’m well into the next page and that this book isn’t as entertaining as he’d hoped. and even i am craving a little more excitement this far in so i negotiate with the fish monger for a blow job in exchange for a blow fish, but he doesn’t seem too interested unless i do his son. now i’m not sure if it’s his dick in my mouth or my mouth on his dick, but either way we’re both enjoying it and i’m confident the cat will get fed tonight

ok i think i am slowly talking myself down, but still not moving forward in any real way. is that ok? ''do wot you can'' but am i just fooling myself. the paralysis is still here & in a lot of ways i feel like im back to square zero but i cant keep up the negative spiral. i know that shit is happening on the inside of me, and in some ways i am revelling in the tears - that have finally arrived, but is it wot i need?

oh did i tell you i took a pill?

i still have to think of a title for this post, i guess i have a while. and also focus on the wins i had today. i made my appointment, i made it out to coffee, i networked, i set up a good reads account...there were losses, but, well, theyre not poetic.

what is it with people these days?

well it may be the tall poppy syndrome gone feral but it seems to me that no one takes enjoyment in the achievements of others. another nail in the culture coffin? maybe. i know i am pretty cynical but really, i opened myself up th the real world & all i see is ego & self promotion. it makes me less proud to ''share'' my art with others who share no one elses but themselves.

i'll be back...ok i am back & feeling a little better, a little more rational, but no less hurting. people are perplexing so i just have to keep looking at how i contribute to my feelings. right now it does feel like people fuck me over just because i open up to them. they talk me round then dump me, why? hmmm.

today i may stop crying.

well, maybe. depends if the cause is envoronmental or clinical. either way there seems no end in sight. but i will take one tiny tolerant step today i hope & actually get my blood taken, prepare for the bang when hopefully shit will get dealt with.

just write, but dont forget the full stops. why do i get drawn into other people's fantasies? why do people lie? it is a mystery to me, the way people move through the world, the way they relate. am i really that fucken stupid? or naive? i get told no but the end result remains the same. me. here. alone. why do i let the glimmers in? cos i have to? the middle way does not exist or if it does it is notoriously hard to find. and wot about that little editor that sits on my shoulder. he's happy to give advice unsolicited but where is he wen i need him? where is he when i am going one step too far on my own? fucking cock sucking cunt. & yes i know my insults make no logical sense, & will prolly come back to bite me in the tender parts - like everything else of myself that i try to put out there but fuck off to that too. i am soooo lost at the moment. hiding does not hold the satisfaction it used to but then reaching out makes me feel more shitty than ever before. well ever since adolescence.

wow, now there's a paragraph, thanks flow.

i'm crying into my coffee right now

ok i know its my paranoia, but that doesn't stop it hurting. i am sick of being led to the water, talked into how good drinking is then having the plug pulled and watch as EVERYTHING runs away. openess gets you nowhere, so does hiding so im baffled as to wot the answer is. self harm & self destructive behaviour feels so good but it is intrinsically negative, but wot is the answer for growth? how does anybody move forward? how do others do it?

unreachable but very visible.

living my life to this formula sucks the big one.

and suddenly its not the apocalypse so i'm left with preparations and too much adrenalin, nowhere to hide when i'm in the moment, bodyscanning like a scientist, like there's no tomorrow. but tomorrow needs to be prepared for because now is not how i want to be.

aaaahhhhhh!

... i'm (re)moving sum shit from facebook

things i need to get out of my notebook pt. 5.

By Kerryn Tredrea· Tuesday, December 28, 2010

the kid with the charlie brown head
knows that there is no good grief
when his mother wont stop crying
& there is always an empty seat
at the dinner table.

things i need to get out of my notebook pt 6

by Kerryn Tredrea on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 4:46pm

the man next door has helicopter hands
that make all the window frames rattle.
he's never far from a landing.
his crashpad crotch scratched
gravel red from poor nail care
and rough masturbation.
he rarely ventures out as his hands
are extentions of his dark, dark heart.

things i need to get out of my notebook pt. 7.

by Kerryn Tredrea on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 4:58pm

creatively making mistakes but staying mindful of the traps they set. it's in the lusciousness (lushiousity) of your lips, the first piece of the puzzle that inspires me to carry on the charade of living partially, partially closed lips becoming partially open. partial reality flicks me the bird but the dog still hasn't let me off the leash, not completely. & i just know that when he does it will be on the edge of somewhere steep, on the peak of something dangerous so it will be up to me to navigate the gravel & rocks & scrapes & cuts to get to the bottom & back in the saddle.

things i need to get out of my notebook pt. 8.

by Kerryn Tredrea on Tuesday, December 28, 2010 at 5:08pm

so it's another day, a brand new day, not quite through the looking glass but the world i inhabit is strange & mysterious with many gifts & rewards but also many risks, pot holes, pitfalls. & all i need is a confidence shield to deflect the tyrany of "other people". still, i've gotta believe that this is a better way. i am aware of my environment it may hurt my ears right now but this will pass with patience. awareness, be aware, act aware, absorb, check your phone. aware. game on.

more hmmm...

ok it seems that my enemies are everywhere & some of them are dressed as friends. i just dont seem to be able to get a foothold. every time i climb a little higher but that just makes the crash from higher, from faster, from harder. but again the question is... what's the alternative?

i missed the eclipse & it all went to shit.

too damn tired but the concept remains sound.

hmmm...

so it's another day & i'm over touch typing i just want a wanted touch, there are sooo many kinds out there but there are only certain kinds i really want. all of them right now are out of my reach. even my vibrator.

im trying to talk myself calm, trying to find the middle way. deep breath. it's not always the worst case scenario but oftentimes it ends up with me being the loser.

ok, tomorrow is the shortest day, so it follows that tomorrow night. well, yeah, is there anything spiritual with the solstice? is it like the tide and the moon? the moon and the lunatics? ive usually noticed it, felt it, and then on course there was theeeee longest night. i think it is good to note the seasons, time must pass and we must mark it. it is one of our melancholies. but if you dont, like a birthday, you get lost in time, until there is another passage that gets you through. another thunderstorm, another summer, another national tragedy.

post to save, then come back. sensible huh?

oh dear...

i will not be defeated @ the first hurdle.

just lemme finish fixing my 2 minute noodles....

ok, hijacked by my best intentions, again,

iv got so much to deal with but i do not wanna look at any of it. on the plus side i seem to be touch typing, well, nearly.

so im back in place & back on deck, back to leaning & one handed typing. contemplating the bottle, weighing up the effort to get a mixer & the merits of drinking it straight - from the bottle. the television tells me stories where little or no learning occurs except i seem to be discovring that it does have an off switch & i do have the power.

hey, this is just like my notebook but techier.

you know there's a lot at steak here...

...i'm writing this blog to put of some dangerous practices.

ok why have i started this, because i want to see where it will go. letting the dog off the leash and digging a bit deeper again. i have made some positive changes lately, faced a few challenges but i would like to think that my patience, compassion & love with people will finally make me a winner.

well it's tiny tolerant steps, this is the first post so i can get to sleep early tonite (a rare treat) and be stronger for tomorrow...

ok plan derailed but it is all good. i go to bed with my heart a little more content in the knowledge that there is just one big sky...

oh my. oh well, a little more star gazing then i will sleep.