Thursday, 31 May 2007

No!

I think Elliot is trying to pick email fights with me from his new home in the rehab halfway house. I don't like this at all. I'm not sure what is going on but I suspect that both us are just feeling a little weird about this new relative freedom of communication. He seems combative and oversensitive, surely just a reaction to this first step back into the world as a sober man. I don't want to fight with him. I don't want to talk to him about anything important via email. After all this time and all this waiting it would be very easy to ruin everything with only a few typed words so I will put my sensible hat on. I will let him vent or rage or express in weird ways, for now. But if he continues in this way for long I will just say no. No. No you can't do this to me because I have been there for you, no matter what. I was there for you when my heart was shredded and I couldn't breathe. I was there for you when all you wanted to do was destroy yourself, and me. I won't let you take my happiness away Elliot, you're sober now and you know exactly what you're doing so just stop. Just stop because my life is better with you in it.

Elliot is back unexpectedly soon

So unexpectedly soon that I almost wished him away again. Almost.

Wednesday, 30 May 2007

Tea shop

It seems we have a visitor. Well Mr Anonymous you can shove your fucking diagram because I am a millionaire and I am going to buy all the diagrams and train them to give you inaccurate results.

Oooh, didn't realise the word venn could make me so angry. Weird. Maybe half of those things weren't entirely horrible but they were at the expense of my creativity. The main problem being that I did not have artistic equality in my house. His creative process always always took priority over mine, even if I locked myself in a room and said please please let me write for a just a few hours he would crash through the door on some pretense or other, like a child and chase all the words away. At least I have learned not to sacrifice myself, for love, not anymore. But really, who say venn? Stop it. Don't ever say that again.

PS Dear Rupert, thanks for the link.

Tuesday, 29 May 2007

Last day to vote for step one of the experiment

Only one more day to cast your vote and control my life. Click here to control how I live my life. Seriously, I'm a bit worried about this but I'm definitely going to do it and then report back in shameful embarrassing detail.

If you don't like any of the options and have an alternative leave a comment and I'll consider it.

Victims of typewriters

I am listening to my brand new album, A Tribute To Joni Mitchell. Apart from the fact that I love it, adore it, want to live inside it, I hate it. It is haunted by melodies that were, now thanks to the interruption of a housemate arriving home I am haunted by sentences that were almost, but not quite ready.

A small regathering of thought and I am back. The songs are masterfully done, beautiful beautiful but they are made stronger by the invisible unheard original song weaving through the silences. Some things are so powerful that they push out the shapes of what is before us. Music does this, art does this, words do this. Not a day goes by when two random words said one after the other don't conjur the shape of a sentence in my mind. In this way Virginia Woolf chose my shirt this morning and Joni Mitchell sang the title of this post.

What happens when these shapes and echoes are taken away? What colour is my life? Should I be more careful about letting things in that alter my perception if it can never be undone?

Monday, 28 May 2007

Red flags

I am becoming alarmed. Highly alarmed by the results coming in for The Experiment. Its possible that I am about to embark on something really weird.

There was an article online today about why people write, it was a stupid article. I know why people write and it isn't pretty.

Writing is like a compulsion, a disease, or a result or cure for dis ease. People write because they have to. The writer is other, there is discomfort and a sense of separation, feeling like you are sitting on a parallel observational plane and are compelled to report back to the rest of the herd in the same way animals stand guard and stare at all the horizon while the rest of the herd sleeps on, oblivious.

Because it pours out. You can divert it but if you try and dam it it will drown you. Its not a choice.

That's why.

Official launch of the experiment

I am turning the decision making power of my dating life over to you starting now. It is time I widened my circle of existence. My life has begun shrinking, time to reverse that process. I have walked head first through the grief of a broken heart until I was ready to start thinking of someone new. That time is now. I would like to meet a man for coffee. It doesn't necessarily have to be romantic, its just time to start meeting new people so the first step is how in the hell do I that? I reckon it might be interesting to let you decide that, so if you've twenty seconds to spare please click on this link and answer one multiple choice question. Let The Experiment begin.

I met up with an old friend from uni today. It was brilliant. It reminded me of who I am what I am capable of so thanks Guy, for the talking with meaning and the human sharing of existence, it was exactly what I needed.

Sunday, 27 May 2007

Frickin zine

Only a week before the zine fair and I am still drafting the stupid thing. I don't why I thought I wanted to do this. Maybe the location of the fair has its appeal, on a pier under the shadow of the harbour bridge. Or maybe I just wanted to sell small pieces of my brain so that when mine fails there are fragments out there in the universe. I don't know. I am all tension and my brain is filled with the flapping of deadlines. I regret the decision to turn myself into an experiment, I have lost the ability to look into next week and see footstep by footstep where I will be and how I will feel about it. This is me being brave.

Saturday, 26 May 2007

Testing the mechanics of my new way of life

Thanks for running my life.

The official 'experiment in directed living' does not start til Monday but feel free to start early. On Monday I will supply a full explanation of what I intend to do and how you can direct my life. Feel free to add suggestions or comments.

Almost but not quite thwarted

Tonight after dinner with my housemate Grizelda and a lovely wander up and down King St eating fig sorbet I settled in at the pub with Spencer and Grizelda for a bit of a chat. Spencer's heard on the grapevine that Artboy might be moving back out of the city to his mother's house in the hills, far away from the city. Good but I can't expand on it any further than good. I have promised myself that I will not spiral inwards anymore. I am standing tall and walking forwards.

I have started the ball rolling for me newer and grander plan. Things are about to get a hell of a lot more interesting around here, for sure.

I want to write something about how I am aching for conversation. I want to talk about how my soul feels boxed when all I get is vacuous chit chat. There is an absence of meaning around here right now, I need for someone to walk up to me and say something with meaning, hold my hands and say something that matters. Please. But I guess that falls into the category of spiraling inwards, so I won't say anything, today.

Friday, 25 May 2007

A newer and grander plan

I'm going to revolutionise things round here. Starting Monday I am going to let you control my dating life. I'm still working on the details but come Monday I'm entirely at your bidding. Let's hope this doesn't steer me into the path of disaster, either way it should be fun.

Thursday, 24 May 2007

Get on with it

Hey! Guess what? I'm sick of myself. I think I'm finally over the whining. Good news for me and anybody that has any contact with me.

In new and exciting news my bathroom cupboard fell off the wall at 4am last night. The mirrors smashed and there is glass and weird broken bathroom products all over the floor, the bench and in the bath. Looks like I'll be wearing thongs in the bathroom for some time to come.

Both my housemates got up in the middle of the night to investigate. I elected to stay in bed and keep well clear of things that go bump in the night. I'm pretty happy with my decision on that one.

In more exciting news I'm catching up with an old friend on the weekend, my cold is retreating and in about ten seconds I'm going to be wrapped in my super doona and snoring my head off. More exciting news tomorrow. Watch out world, I'm not sure you can stand the excitement.

Definitely not a revenge narrative

List (incomplete) of stupid things Artboy convinced me to do over the years:
Go to a Doctor Who convention
Watch all Doctor Who videos, in order
Use caption machine on home tv to write own captions for live to air television
Make a robot birthday cake
Sit on concrete floors for hours on end while idiots made their laptops make bleeping noises
Work for free for a collective of digital artists
Join local pub trivia team
Think that it was better for him not to stand up for me cause I needed to do it myself
Live in outer Western Sydney
Have Christmas breakfast with his horrendous family
March in a community marching band
Lock myself in a flat for three days and watch all of Twin Peaks from start to finish
Always be the designated driver because he was on his L's, the whole time
Run around in a recording studio with a tiny keyboard making beeping noises so that he could record it for 'art'
Go to his stupid exhibitions
Stay over at his friend's house when I couldn't even see the bathroom floor through the piles of filthy matted pubes
Eat the pizzas he made from scratch (horrible, horrible)
Move house without hiring a ute or truck (horrible horrible)
Pay for breakfast at a cafe every weekend so I could sit and watch him ignore me and read the newspaper
Talk to his fucked up world's biggest arsehole brother
Pick him up from work every Thurday night for months on end at 2am
Make things out of lego to use around the house
Always pay for everything when we went on holidays
Consider generative art as a valid art form
Read art theory books - and then think about them
Eat $1 hotdogs from Ikea
Pretend that my birthday didn't matter
Think that it was ok for me to do really big generous thoughtful things and to never receive any in return
Pay all of the rent and all of the bills because it was his final year at uni and next year (2007) he would pay me back
Spend all of my twenties with someone who was going to fuck out and piss off and never come back

Clearly there's much more but I'm running out of time here, but I might just add a nice quote.

"Now that you've broken up with Artboy does that mean we can all stop pretending to like his so-called art?"


Wednesday, 23 May 2007

Snot

Brain been invaded by snot. No thought possible until feeling better. I phoned Artboy this morning and asked if he wanted me to post him this old photo album of his I found in a box. It was shit to talk to him and I hope I don't have to do it again. Now back to battling the snot.

Monday, 21 May 2007

What poison is this?

In my mind Elliot has turned into my worst nightmare. In my mind instead of the warm, funny and awkwardly selfish man I count as a dear friend he has turned into something else. I don't know why things like this happen. I think it is the silence. In the spaces between the limited communication allowed by rehab rules some poison spins into deadly gas and I cannot think with slow perfect reasoning. My mind spins faster until some new horror manifests into emotion. I don't understand what I am doing or how to stop.

Take me back to Newtown!

Friday night I ventured over to Kings Cross because of the amazing good fortune of two bands I like, both I confess with friends in them, were playing one after the other in the same venue.

And at first it seemed great, for a mere ten bucks I got a teapot filled with Long Island Iced Tea, there were heaps of familiar faces in attendance, all going very well. So I had another teapot. My housemate didn't like her teapot so I finished that off. Somewhere between the second and third teapots T, one of my sixteen personal enemies showed up. Happily I was sitting on some low cube thing and was the first to notice her pants were unzipped. Nice.

I whispered to Spencer Oh, here's one of my sixteen personal enemies. He crouched low in front of my cube, counting off my known enemies on his fingers, I could only think of two. I cannot speak the comfort offered when I said oh, and D & P and Spencer nodded slowly and said Of course, they definitely deserve to be there. You've got twelve to go! He smiled indulgently, the bastard likes to tease me, I was taking the remembering of personal enemies very seriously, might have had something to do with the teapots, and was getting flustered when I couldn't think of anymore. Spencer just laughed.

Between bands I threaded through the crowd and upstairs to the toilets, T was in there with two of her cronies skulling red wine from a bottle. In the spirit of fake friendliness I struck up a conversation with them and introduced myself to the one I didn't know. She said Oh, I know who you are, you're. Then she stopped with the first syllable of Artboy's name in her mouth. She said I'm Artboy's new flatmate's sister. Oh, I said, nice to meet you. The way she looked at me. I could have shot her. I think it was pity on her face, but I can't be sure. I can't wait for the day when the ghost of Artboy stops following me everywhere I go.

Back downstairs the crowd was unbelievable. I ended up squashed against a half wall overlooking the area in front of the stage. There was a man there. A man with awesome hair and and some sort of giant camera with which he was not taking photographs. He looked like a man with a heart and a brain and a soul. The place was full of my kind of people but all I did was stand and dance and watch transfixed as Spencer transformed into a rock star. I don't know how he does it. The second he steps on stage no one can take their eyes off him. One day I might meet some of these people who come to see the other Spencer, the stage Spencer. One day I might talk with them, click with one of them, but I don't think I'm ready for that just yet. I'm still looking over my shoulder, scared by the ghost of Artboy, I'm still letting people test the truth of my loss by putting their hand in the hole in my side.

The bands
The Holy Soul
Belles Will Ring

Sunday, 20 May 2007

Zine!

It was a really bad idea to commit to doing a zine. I feel like I'm back at uni again. I hate deadlines. This is terrible. I need to go back to staring at blank pieces of paper now.

Friday, 18 May 2007

Let's type

The internet at home is not working so I am attempting to do this in the office. No easy task, I have fifty million things to do and people keep walking around looking at my desk. I had a dream last night where I ended up naked and alone in a bed in the middle of a shopping centre in Western Sydney. That was unpleasant.

Yesterday I had an idea for a way of thinking about inherited sorrow and the different forms it can take. Two of my grandparents were refugees and I am trying to work out how their stories have worked through my identity but like I said I am at work and can't spend the time I need right now. Another day. Another day.

Thursday, 17 May 2007

Various

Yesterday I called my housemate evil when she said she was considering being 'the other woman', she said I 'm always the other woman, I said that's because you're evil. What I meant to say was, I reckon you deserve better than that, I reckon you should require more of the men you see and more of yourself because you don' t deserve to be unhappy.

I phoned Elliot in rehab yesterday. He sounded flat, he sounded trapped under twenty millions tons of concrete. I wanted to hang up the phone and immediately bathe in some kind of holy water. When he hurts, when he feels empty he siphons any joy I had in my heart. He needs to learn that its ok to feel bad sometimes, that if you fret and fight and try to numb the pain it grows stronger but if you just sit down with it for a while it passes. I need to learn to trap my joy for myself and not let his probes into my heart.

I ate cheese. I ate delicious crumbly old vintage cheese, I ate way too much cheese.

Tuesday, 15 May 2007

Every step I take

I walked home from work. For fifty three minutes the only thing in this world I had to do was put one foot in front of the other. For fifty three minutes it was just me in the back streets with the world rolling past. About half way home I found myself inside a rhythm, I was walking at my own pace. There is peace and power in this. I think I'm going to walk home again tomorrow.

I've been talking lately about the idea of a new man. I've been talking but its all talk. I've only just started to enjoy my freedom. I'm discovering what it means to have no one to answer to, no one to phone every every afternoon to say what time I'll be home, no one to consult about dinner, no one to say no, don't do that or question everything I do. I'm starting to understand what I want, just for me.

That's not to say that I haven't met some amazing men. I'm thinking of two in particular, both unobtainable. One was whole and well and full of light, the other was a room of lamps and shadows. Maybe one day, but not just yet.

Monday, 14 May 2007

That was unfortunate

I had salad for lunch, with chilli tuna. Sounds boring so far but things got a hell of a lot more interesting when I put my lunch down and ran off to the loo. It wasn't until I had washed my hands and was walking back downstairs that I noticed the odd feeling. The odd feeling further developed into a very odd feeling and further still until it was the undeniable feeling of chilli on vagina.

Ladies, always wash your hands after handling chilli. Always.

Sunday, 13 May 2007

Pyschic mp3 player?

I am indulging in a bit of blogthievery thanks to NWJR.

"Simple directions: use the shuffle function on your music player and
see what you come up with in answer to the following questions."

Here's my answers:

How does the world see me?
From the Ritz to The Rubble - Arctic Monkeys

Will I have a happy life?
Love Rescue Me - U2

What do my friends really think of me?
Perhaps Vampire Is a Bit Strong But... - Arctic Monkeys

Do people secretly lust after me?
Get It On- Grinderman

How can I make myself happy?
Desire - U2

What should I do with my life?
Fake Tales of San Frabcisco - Arctic Monkeys

Will I ever have children?
Forget Myself - Elbow

What is some good advice for me?
Stayin' Alive - Happy Mondays

How will I be remembered?
I am the Grinderman - Grinderman

What song will play at my funeral?
Sign of the Triangle - The Holy Soul

What type of men do I like?
Connected - Stereo MC's

What is my day going to be like?
Dancin' Shoes - Arctic Monkeys

Thursday, 10 May 2007

Information I could have used yesterday

Or seven odd years ago. One of my housemates, The Spatula, informed me that she always thought Artboy was a stepping stone boyfriend. She said she was pretty sure that it wasn't going to be forever and ever. I guess she was right.

Tomorrow I head west into the mountains for dinner with friends in their lovely house with their lovely baby and their lovely love. I hope I don't choke on it. I'm looking forward to busting out of these concrete canyons and into the skyline. It feels like forever since I've seen the horizon.

Reload

Now here's an important thing to remember if you're making something, anything. You're the Captain of what you make, its not the Captain of you. I need to remember this.

There's a lot more to this, including the tale of a Japanese pottery master and a big stick but I'm in the office, I'm supposed to be doing office things, not blog things. Better get myself back to it.

Wednesday, 9 May 2007

Exemplary what

I am an exemplary person, temporarily you understand. Three days in a row my kitchen has been spotless before bedtime, yesterday I went for a walk, I had vegetables with lunch and dinner,  I took the bins out for bin night, I brushed the cat, I made my bed, I put most of my clean clothes away and this morning I caught the early train to work. Like I said, exemplary. Now all I need to do is finish my zine and maybe brush my hair before leaving the house next time.

Tuesday, 8 May 2007

Let's telephone, down at the globe

Well. Those rehab fuckers aren't answering the phone. Every time it rings out I think, good, I don't know why I'm phoning anyway. I don't know what I 'm doing, I'm way too tired to be trying to write something sensible. I miss him.

Monday, 7 May 2007

6 bars of soap

This weird counting has got to stop. Last night I needed to get a new bar of soap out of the drawer in the bathroom, as I put it in the shower I thought this is the sixth bar of soap since he left. Then I washed some clothes and noticed I'm running low on dynamo, the third bottle of dynamo since he left. Its the second jar of vegemite, the third hair cut, the fourth box of tissues, the third Vogue Living and the fourth roll on deodorant. I don't know why or even how I am doing this. Its as though I am waiting for some secret signal. I wonder what it will be.

I have tried, in my way, to be free

How am I supposed to enact my freedom? Should I start doing things I wouldn't ordinarily do or enjoy? Is freedom, for me, the widening of my daily circles or is the possibility of it enough?

I'm not sure what I am supposed to do to express my freedom, surely I must do something, people die for freedom. I'm going to need to think about this.

Sunday, 6 May 2007

Let's be grown up about this

I don't want to have guitar lessons anymore. Not for a while. It feels like too much pressure to practice and get better each week. Boli is my teacher and I don't want to let him down by being a poor student. I'm supposed to go over to this house in about half an hour for a lesson. Instead I'm going to show up with pastries and say let's just have a cup of tea. I need to talk to you about these lessons. If I wasn't feeling grown up I would send a text message twenty minutes before he's due in rehearsal saying I just woke up. But I'm not going to do something as spineless as that, I'm going to be grown up about this because I am the Captain of whether or not I have guitar lessons. I hope.

Thursday, 3 May 2007

The thing I am finding out about being single

Is that I feel like a flare let off in a nation of the blind. I need someone to unveil my thoughts to. Someone who understands, in context, the fountain of me.

Wednesday, 2 May 2007

No colours anymore

I'm wondering if ending up with a man is like choosing a new paint colour for your wall. I can agonise for hours at a time between two colours, sometimes I even paint test patches but at the end of the day it doesn't really matter which colour I nearly chose everybody always says the one on the wall seems just right. This may require more thought, I'm a bit tired right now.

Tuesday, 1 May 2007

I have an insatiable urge

To sketch goldfish.

Stupid what

Today I registered to have a table at the SWF Zine Fair. I don't have a zine. I'm going to have to make one, I have never made a zine. I'm not sure this is such a good idea anymore. The new guy at work says I should call the zine The Instant No List. Might as well go with that, so far its all I've got, so tonight I will start work on the zine. I will take a piece of paper and write the title on it and hope for further ideas.

Random hellos to

Portland, Oregon, USA
Basildon, Thurrock, UK

Discovery!

I try to make things happen with my brain! By this I mean that I think of something and think of how things will turn out and then when they do happen that way I can rest assured that I am the supreme being of all knowledge. Weird and horrible. Or else things go entirely the other way and I get to sit around being sorry for being surprised and stupid and wrong about everything damn thing.

I need to listen to Elliot. I can't control people, places or things, only my attitude towards them. I need to get the hell out of bed because using a blog as a therapy is both sad and boring. I think I might get dressed and go to the office.

A message to you Slamma

Stop your messing around
Better think of your future
Time you straightened right out
Creating problems in town (by town I mean my own head)

Slamma, a message to you
Slamma, a message to you

Stop your fooling around
Time you straightened right out
Better think of your future
Else you'll wind up in jail (well hopefully not but possibly a rambling bag lady)

Slamma, a message to you
Slamma, a message to you

Stop your messing around
Better think of your future
Time you straightened right out
Creating problems in town

Slamma, a message to you
Slamma, a message to you
Slamma, a message to you
Slamma, a message to you

Woke up this morning

I just thought no. Not today. I'm not having today. I'm going to stay in bed and let my poor self rest. So that's what I'm doing. I keep thinking I should go to work, I tried to phone them and say I'm not coming in but I don't know what to say, so I sent an email at half past nine saying I feel ill.

Now that I'm home I'm not sure what to do. I feel as though I could sleep all day but that can be dangerous, he made me upset but he's not going to make me depressed. I keep repeating this is real this real in my head because it feels so much like a bad dream that I expect to wake at any second. I used to look at all those people younger than me getting married and living out west, buying houses and having babies and think there's more than this, you're trapping yourself. But now look who's trapped. I'm thirty and broken and living in a sharehouse. I didn't think it was a competition but somehow I lose.

I'm the hell sick of this. I need a positive injection. I need a vibrant kick in the head. I need a new solution. I need a hot air balloon to land new people in my life waving banners and handing out answers. I need to stake out some territory in my head for a neutral zone.