Dainty Etceteras

I am finding it hard to forgive myself.

I did things I never thought I would out of sickness and desporation.

Max is right, always right.

It is not about who you know, it is about working hard for your goals.

Setting small achievable goals which lead up to the dream.

Sydney can be inspiring and Sydney can be horribly fake.

I don’t know what to do anymore because Whitehouse is just a name and a bunch of wank.

I need to save up money to begin and in living on my own over there I can’t. I have nothing.

I don’t know what to do anymore. My eyes are open and in denial.

The last two days has given me so much fear.

The report on the x-rays will be revealed tomorrow.

Here is to hope.

I think I need to be more charismatic around everyone.

I am someone and I am someone important and if you don’t know me - shame on you.

If I want big-time I need to act like I am big-time before I even am.

Meanwhile I slog my guts out to make everything work.

And Aubrey was his name,

And not so very ordinary bird a name,

But who’s to blame?

For a love that wouldn’t bloom

For a heart that never played in tune

Like a lovely melody that everyone can sing

Take away the words that rhyme it doesn’t mean a thing

And Aubrey was his name

We tripped the light and danced together to the moon

But where was June?

No it never came around

If it did it never made a sound

Maybe I was absent or was listening to fast

Catching all the words but then the meaning going past

And Aubrey was his name

I never knew him but I loved him just the same

I loved his name

Wish I had found a way

Or a reason that would make him stay

I have learned to lead a life apart from all the rest

If I can’t have the bird I want I’ll do without the best

He sits there clambering against the window in his hat and dark sunglasses. Walking cane between his decaying hair-infected legs he lets his hand fall - to inspect. The veins looked as though they were on the brink of bursting, a valley between them with a stream of concave scars, blotches and enormous moles hanging like a droplet in denial of a fall from the kitchen tap. He truly had become a monster, the smelly old man, the ogre that would sniff and slurp and hang his tongue out unwillingly. To be so old as to look in the mirror and feel that pit-stomach feeling when you remember what you were. For the next milestone in life to be death. What are your priorities now? When no one can bare to look at you or even sit next to you on a crowded bus. Do you fear this day? And would you sit next to me?

You know there is something that you really want and you don’t know what to do. You don’t know, but your scared because as soon as you step into it, as soon as you give up the anxiety that is whether you should or you shouldn’t - you can’t not. You can’t not because you have already stepped into that realm of possible failure. Then it is no longer about finding happiness or being wherever is comfortable. You can’t have comfort because it’s no longer about that, it’s about finding your story. The search for a      really    good    story

Re-Visiting my old friend ‘life drawing’.

I have finally given proof to myself that 4 years of surrealist/expressionist work has not led me completely astray. I no longer have to be afraid to draw what I see.

And tonight, I see me!

Being a Hermit is only good for so long and there are only so many times you can go exploring alone until you want someone to say things to. Like “look at that” “isn’t it the most beautiful day?” ” let’s go in here”. Saying these things to yourself can get very odd after some time.

Max makes me feel like a princess every-time we greet the world. After high-tea in Queen Victoria Building and an amazing meal beside a view of Darling Harbor I felt well and truly Romanced. Even now I cannot believe this time has been and gone like the dream it was. Our first night consisted of me hurling into a frenzy on cold and flu tablet overdose; trying to figure out if I was awake or asleep.

It seems like every time I spend with him I have taken for granted and then regretted afterward. But I don’t take it for granted, I just pain the fact that perhaps I didn’t spend enough time/show enough love/be there for him at every waking moment while I could. And I know next holiday to Perth will be the same. It will be me, frantically trying to be with everyone I consider important and then later regretting that I didn’t spend enough time with this person or that person.

Time goes past too quickly, and as you grow older it progresses faster. The times you enjoy lapse like it was never there and you finish where you began. These days I wonder about myself in the future. I also seem to be imagining people in adulthood more often than not. I see my brother smile in a photo and see him as a man all of a sudden. I see my friends and stare - transforming their faces foreword to when they might be married with children. It is spooky that I too am now considered a ‘lady’ a ‘woman’ who lives in her own home, cleans her own house and cooks her own meals.

The time I spent with Max here was one of the best I have ever enjoyed with another. It is not everyday that you can find someone to connect to in such a free way, someone to share apples in eyes with that would do anything for you and you for them. Last night I went sleepwalking and returned to bed frantically feeling around in the dark, searching for his form. It wasn’t there, he wasn’t there and I remembered he was gone. My heart sank and I realized that I miss him already - too much.