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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?"
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?"
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