chartreuse

many things i have learnt while i havent been blogging

1. the palace is a friendly place - where they run out of jager and save me from feeling worse than i do now. thanks guys.
2. dj shadow is cool... the shads. just me and the shads.
3. nominated artists need to pay for their own aria tickets... what in the hell?
4. random house wants to publish andy's book
5. some little boys are nice - this morning there was a school kid helping another kid (both of about 14) learn to read...
6. that spiders cannot be fed so much that they explode

stinky

i have a mobile phone (hooray! i hear you scream) and what i love is to go through the outbox/drafts and read the random things that come to me on trains, in my car, while sitting at a table or during a massively odd and life shattering self-development course.

last night i ran out of room in my phone and had received a message, without thinking i deleted my entire outbox... losing my drafts along with crazy-speak of my past.

[here are the random things i recall]

she had nothing to say, so she picked up her violin.
(written during w/shop w/andrea goldsmith)

i find it odd that people will honk as soon as the light turns green. that people will sigh in a bank queue or when buying a train ticket. i find it odd that the same people will wait forever for that person to call, for the sound of the key turning in the door - the one that left has come back. i find it odd - that for love - those same people will wait forever. (written on the train)

finally the arms i had - which were large and clumsy - were good for something. to hold him. to show him the words i couldn't say. (written on the way home)

wolfmudda

imagine...
a friend passes you their phone and whispers, do you know where festival hall is?
you say sure and take it... hello? whose this?
someone someone is their response.
who are you going to see?
wolfmother
really?
yeah... we're so excited
you ponder this for a moment and you realise telling them would logical / spiritually / matter-of-factly ruin their lives.
did you say the forum? you ask innocently.
no no, festival hall both they and the owner of the phone repeat.
ohhh.... you say, no. i dont know where that is you apologise and hang up knowing that there is only twenty minutes till w/m come on stage.
knowing, that in your small corner of the world - you've made a difference.

space

it has been a busy week.

gotye: made it into the TOP 40
i travelled: back in time (1920's to be exact)
i learnt: that 'excuse me, do you have the pasta al merde del cane?' means: 'do you have the dog shit pasta?'
i saw: big train (apparently i laugh like one of the umpires at the staring match)
i didn't: buy arrested development when i should have (will be rectified on tue)
i spent: way too long editing a book on golf in ireland
i was: picked on after hours of telling childhood stories... hahaha... poor little spidey
i couldn't: make it to rollerskating
i love: joe sorren whose work i saw in a gallery on elizabeth st
i washed: the chopping board while the chopped garlic was still on it

magnificent, ninth, subject, ladder

all of life is climbing a ladder. if you can get high... you can certainly get higher. ladders are the reason life is both magnificent and tragic.

equilibrium, gentle, hum, discard

there is a new tenant on our office floor. on day three, there is still little furniture. no music. papers discarded by the last "lawyer" sitting in a corner. a desk. an oil burner. a pink oriental plant. a change to the floors equilibrium.

there is a gentle hum now, as she goes to and from her office - leaving the door wide open. auburn hair with shoots of fuscia. a gentleness as she smiles in the communal kitchen. she is the only other woman on this floor and i think, in her peacefulness, she hates it here as much as i do.

moosic

i am writing an article at the moment on using music to treat depression... which only randomly relates to the reason for this post.

the reason for this post is that everytime i'm on the train and my ipod selects elliott smith's pitseleh from over 500 songs, i think... wow. this is one of my very favourite songs.

regardless of my mood - i can never bring myself to skip it. other such tunes include sufjan's predatory wasp of the palisades, iron and wine's fever dream, great lake swimmers various stages, frou frou's let go and the perishers trouble sleeping.

now my blog all emo - not my intention :) ... i just think this song is beautiful.

elliott smith: pitseleh

i'll tell you why i don't want to know where you are
i got a joke i been dying to tell you
a silent kid is looking down the barrel
to make the noise that i kept so quiet
i kept it from you, pitseleh
i'm not what's missing from your life now
i could never be the puzzle pieces
they say that god makes problems
just to see what you can stand
before you do as the devil pleases
and give up the thing you love
but no one deserves it
the first time i saw you i knew it would never last
i'm not half what i wish i was
i'm so angry
i don't think it'll ever pass
and i was bad news for you just because
i never meant to hurt you

...
so, what are your favourite songs?

cute, orange, sticker, hello

it is good to have her home. her cute new clothes and beautiful long hair. big ben stickers on her luggage. an orange hat. her broken heart.

'i blame myself.'
'you can't.'
'his life has fallen to the shit.'
'he chose it.'
'i left him.'
'because neither of you were happy.'
'well neither of us are happy now.'

we flipped through photos and postcards. i chose earrings, a hello kitty doll, some cds from the pile 'for friends'. i tried to justify, to excuse, to explain.

'it'll get easier,' i said and i hoped i was right.


for a

illusion, decrepit, stare, monotony

most mornings i hate catching the train. the monotony of the rocking, of the people, of the sneezing, of the sound. more than anything, i hate that it will be another 9 hours until im back there, on my way home.

sometimes, i hate seeing the same people; the seedy ones, the ones that stare too long, or whose music is too loud. but sometimes i like the familiar faces. the girl at blackburn with the soft, brown hair. the man at box hill, decrepit, smiling, silent. the boy at glenferrie that reminds me of someone else.

the illusion. same style of clothes, same books, same colour-hair.

only another six stations to go. i breathe deeply and text D.

'sorry, running late.. stupid train.'

down the rabbit hole...

you have to love days when there is something to wait for...
1. 138 days till rachel comes home
2. 174 days till christmas

animal, coin, signature, scarf

the coin flipped in the air.
tails - she willed it. tails.
he pulled his scarf tight.
heads.
her signature glowed on the paper.
beaming, he leant down to pick up the rotting cage. the small animal. still and sleeping.
have anything else, she said. garwyn, please...
he eyed her beautiful prints, her foreign chairs, the gold that hung from her neck. he shook his head and smiled.
that moment, she asked the sky to fall.
that moment, he left - her heart locked in the tiny metal box.

sleep, (print), (blue), sigh

there are some days you wish you could sleep forever. some days when you can't even will yourself to stand. sometimes these days come far too often or far too soon...

but you get up and you sigh and you put on your dressing gown. you walk on the cold tiles and make cereal or toast, coffee or tea. you eat it or you have a shower. skirt or pants. shirt or jumper. you sigh and drive or catch the train to work or school or somewhere.

and there it's all the same. a droning hum of action. of paper or keys, of people or phones. of complaints or thanks. you sit or stand, you wonder how or why. you look at the clock and will it from 9-11 or 11-3 or 3-530...

and on the way home you think about dinner or tv or having to get up the next day. you wonder whether he is with them or with her or if he's just not there.

he's not here - you whisper to yourself. and it's the only thing you're sure of.