Wednesday, February 24, 2010

She Made Us A Bag With Muppets On The Outide And Velvet On The Inside

I'm not sure whether my mom has changed since I was a child
or if it was my perception to change
or if I'm the reason for her downfall.

Now she has every kind of speech impediment there is and is addicted to TV.
She only knows three songs: Jeff Buckley- Hallelujah, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole- What A Wonderful World and Packerbells cannon.

Study

before i attempt you i just wanted to say i've already given up

Hate for a hate

Family that are blood will always make your blood boil.

"What's for dinner mum? Boiled blood? Sounds fantastic! It's your speciality. It's taken 17 years to perfect such hostility hasn't it? What a god damn futile recipe it is. Congratulations mum."


People say never to go to bed angry.

I say never go to dinner angry.

I will not be eating dinner tonight.


Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Heart Skipped A Beat

Some songs are too relatable and to too many different people and for too many different reasons. It's creepy.

And it's worrying that they can make the last 6 months make sense and releiving at the same time.

And everything is going to the beat?

Monday, February 22, 2010

Crushing

I want to know where the term "crush" comes from. The I-have-a-crush-on-her kind of crush not the other physical kind.

Mr. Inventor of The Term Crush, who are you and who were you crushing on?
Whoever you are, you were onto something.

I realise now you are probably dead but if I had met you I would have probably seen you a couple of times, our bodies would have brushed and we would have both realised it because our bodies got all warm at that point, later I'd develop a crush on you, then we would have an interlude of what was called love out of convenience.

A crush has the ability to make your heart beat slow and fast at the same time (as completely lame as that sounds and truthfully it is). It kind of feels fucking good after a long time of not caring for anyone. Your smile is stupid and it pains you at your cheeks and as I've said before, it's the greatest kind of pain. All those early conversations could very well be the best, every one of those words conversed feels like it weighs something. The chats are funny, wit is used to your advantage, slightly obscure sexual innuendo can be undertaken. The conversation involved with getting to know someone is half the fucking fun. The more you know, the better and the worse. You know that weird thing you do? Yeah, well she does it too. Ain't that sweet, you're pretty much made for each other. Those cute little things she does and says when it's just the two of you make you feel like you're the only one that knows about it, makes you feel like she's in some small miniscule way letting you in.

Anyway, crush is a good word. You crush on someone, they crush on you. Crushes should come with rear view mirrors: Relationships may appear closer than they really are. You crash onto them, they crash onto you. They have the ability to say something, and suddenly they've crushed you. What a convenient word.

Anyway, I love the word crush and the adolescent perception of them.

Word.


I'ma Rep the Reps...

My friend's dad is called Richard. My friend's dad is a twin. My friend's dad's twin brother is called Edmond. My friend's dad's nickname is Dick and his twin brother's is Ed. Together they make DICK-ED and if you say that aloud it sounds like Dickhead.
My Friend's dad's favourite foootball team is Richmond. My friend's dad's brother's favourite football team is Richmond. As you can see, they share this favourite team.
Why?
Because they strategically chose it as their favorite.
Why?
Because if you take the Rich off of Richard and add it to the Mond off of Edmond you get Richmond.

In conclusion my friend's dad and his twin brother are really really cool.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Do The Right Thing

I'm doing this to be wasteful, to be spiteful. I'm not backing down because I still get the dress, I still get the shoes, you still get the cost. In the end you lose. You won't have any fun. You'll have the hate of someone you're supposed to love and be loved by in return.

This is my killer instinct. This is me winning the year. This is you bowing down to me and throwing money at my feet. This is what you always wanted, but you're still losing.

This works for everyone whom I care about. There will be more room to separate the good from the bad, the friends from the foe.

Watch me bare my teeth now parents, because in two night's time I cry.

Take a leaf from your son's book,
you incredibly rude, inconsiderate, unhilarious, phone grabbing, loser.

Days that aren't yours

I wonder how she feels today, of all days.

That girl, not that woman, that girl. I bet she's with him today, of all his days.

I wonder how she's doing.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Let me into your Nietzche


I'm kind of angry with myself. That I can't give to others what they need from me.
What I really should already be giving them. She's suffering and here I am running away.
It makes me claustrophobic to know that someone relies on me so heavily.
It annoys me when someone expects from me, but then it scares me at times that someone can be affected by me deeply.

Then there's myself, I need myself to throw the time and patience into working hard this year. Yet I don't care enough to. Caring enough to notice, not caring enough to change. Always whining and seeing the cracks but not offering any light to shine through or trying to stand against it to cover the stupid cracks.

I'm struggling. Please, someone, help me, anyone.
Give me structure,
Give me balance,
Give me the love that she says you've got,
Give me those teeth that you bare so fearlessly,
Give me more time, but don't because I'll waste it,
Give me a lesson, preach it rather than teach it,
Most of all, give me some mother fucking will!

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.


Here's to finding the mad dog inside of me, the reasoning that the wild can sometimes give to your life, and all my love to nail down this year.

500 Days of Kissing

We both live for trailers and we know a good one when we see it. (500) Days of Summer is a goodie and we watrched the film yesterday after school and it itself was a goodie. :)

I watched The Fech Kissers a few weeks ago and it was funny. Really fucking funny. The trailer's pretty good too.


All Hail The Queen

Scott Schuman's words are so true.

"Alexander McQueen and Dries Van Noten were the two shows I was most excited to see during my first Paris fashion week.

To me, McQueen represented the drama of fashion. He represented the conflict and harmony of being a craftsman and an artist - Savile Row training, runway dreaming.

There are people in fashion I always figured I'd meet sooner or later. I'd meet them in a very natural way (introduced by a mutual friend at a party or something) and the encounter would be so much more meaningful that way. McQueen was one of those people I felt I had time to meet. I almost wanted to save him for later. Not a conscious effort but just a concept. Well...I'm sad that won't be the case.

I hope we all remember him for the genius he brought to fashion.




ps. I'm rereading what I wrote and what has been written on other sites and blogs.

All very nice but I still feel so unsatisfied, so empty, even a little mad.

When a bigtime movie star or politician dies someone like Tom Brokaw has always been there to help put it into perspective.

If it was a sports star, fans would talk about it for days on talk radio.

However, for someone that loves fashion Alexander McQueen is just gone and no one seems to be able to make sense of it.

There doesn't seem to be anywhere to turn to make it feel right or understandable.

I don't have any answers for you either. All I know is this sucks."

Monday, February 8, 2010

REMINDER: Make Out Today



na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na
When I found out your age I went...
MARRIED LIFE IS THE BOMB!

Sunday, February 7, 2010

My fingers still smell like your blood


Today marks the last day of my life as a loser (lover)
It's been a good week.
I hope something comes of this,
but if not that's also okay.
I've kind of spent the whole week stacking chair upon chair,
it looks pretty good from where I'm standing but it's also bound to fall.


Friday, February 5, 2010

Gretel says... (The fake issue)

Circa 2003

Gretel: If we all dig to China, where do the people from China dig to?

STOP! (hammer time)

This was later discovered to be a rip off of Shia Labeouf's Even Stevens.

Gretel sometimes says what's already been said.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Somedays Aren't Yours At All

Nobody knows. A beat up car with a matress as the back. It crashed some time ago in some parking space a while a way. Sixteen is full of nevers and seventeen...of firsts. Never tasted so sweet/never swallowed more. I'm sorry
I'm in love with your daughter.

The Blogday Girl

In my family we sing happy boosday not birthday. You see my grandparents can't say TH and I guess they didn't like birsday.

For some reason I'll forever be amused by variations of Birthday. First came boozeday which happily derived itself from my family's interpretation. Then naturally barfday because what else follows drinking. Actually there's blissday before the yacking, sweet euphoria. then blessday. If you're tank I'll call you buffday boy and then if you're the more conceited version you can be biffday. Now you're gonna like bustday girl, breastday girl or boobsday girl and definitely babeday girl. You could even go green and use bearthday. I guess the list goes on.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Gawn



I've been told over, and over, and over again but repetition won't make it a lie. I hope the almost palpable love you have for your child was validated by my existence.

I Can Hear Big Love And I Want In

Hey you... uh-uh. So there's Adam, God. The all mighty, the greatest, knows the chords to please himself, the lord. A Blessed face to shine upon him, yes. Tick that box, mark that cross. The father, the son and my holy spirit has fluttered away. I'm standing and staring. Suddenly I'm kneeling. I'm kneeling and looking up at you, I open my mouth and sing!

After you comes the flood!
The next lot are everywhere. They're seeping, they're crawling up all the walls. Everywhere! So much so that they've even become you. Seriously. So the city is flooded hey? It almost doesn't make sense for me to have such a dry mouth. And you? If babies are meant to drool, why's your mouth so dry? I know why, cause I love you and I'm a creep! I'm a predator! I shouldn't have a clean footpath to my front door. Those scribblings and doodles all over my walls like nails in a bedhead should be out warning the neighbours.
Yeah, the law's my flood gate but I've got pales of a type and them plants have got roots.

Contiguity

Her body notices his,
A circuit connects their arms
to electrocute, to concentrate.
The touch is not friendly
nor weighs with purpose
but rushed together intimately and silently.