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July 24 Why must I grow up?Why must I grow up? Where there are bills to pay And obligations to meet Why can’t I stay little for ever
Why must I behave? When there are expectations And benchmarks to reach And so many people to please?
Where have the good days gone? When daisy chains and mud pies filled my lunch breaks Instead of coffee and cigarettes and avoiding the boss And anger management meant a punching bag in the spare office
What about hot milk and chocolate cookies fixing everything And jumping into every puddle being compulsory Where it meant death to break a pinkie promise And secrets are meant for sharing amongst friends.
Why must I grow up Concerned with shielding myself From those who will see through my mask To point at me and laugh
Why must I grow up And taste failure And smell death And see the world in a different colour I like
I like Hot towels from the dryer Mint chocolate chip ice cream Butterflies And kisses
I like Raindrops on rooftops The beauty of thunderstorms Polish vodka And kisses
I like Chocolate covered coffee beans Dancing till my shoes break Hot curry laksa And kisses
I like Loud debating Truth for truths sake Jacuzzis And kisses
I like A good story A hearty fight A well-earned victory And kisses
I like To live To love And sweet Sweet Kisses July 22 Love after Love
April 17 I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy – Tom Waits
Somewhere in between 5am and that weird dream about talking chickens, I woke up dying of dehydration. Blindly feeling my way to the light switch, the only thing on my mind was water water water. The result of yet another night out on the good juice, another evening spent pouring money down my throat. I’m crawling out of my bed feeling genuinely sorry for myself in this self-inflicted wasteland, kicking my own arse for being in this state when I promised that I wouldn’t do it again. So what is it about alcohol that is both the cause of, and the solution to, life’s nasty problems?
Sub clinical (0.01 – 0.05 BAC)
Behavior nearly normal by ordinary observations. Just getting started; the part you wish you could skip and get on to the better bits.
Euphoria (0.03 - 0.12BAC)
Mild euphoria, sociability, talkativeness. A couple of drinks loosens your tongue and brings about the desire to waffle on and on about everything and nothing in particular. Increased self-confidence; decreased inhibitions; gives the false impression of confidence and flare. When you’re generally a bit chattier and friendlier than usual. Diminished attention, judgment and control; when you say things to your boss that you probably shouldn’t say out loud.
Excitement (0.09 - 0.25BAC) Sensory-motor incoordination; impaired balance. How many times have you walked into a tree or fallen into that curb? Impairment of perception, memory and comprehension. That car seemed a lot further away than it actually was when I checked. Wait, did I check? What’s going on? Emotional instability; loss of critical judgment. When you're off your box, your ability to make rational decisions goes flying out the window. That slurred phone call to your ex telling them how much you miss the sound of their voice. The torturous admission to the one you fancy about how much you actually care. Making promises to yourself about not giving away anything, then laying out all your cards in a moment of confused weakness. Don’t shake your head at me. You know you’ve been there before.
Confusion (0.18 - 0.30BAC) Increased pain threshold; I once lived with a guy who thought putting out his cigarettes on his arm would be funny. His arm didn’t think it was so funny when it took well over a month to heal clean.
Stupor (0.25 - 0.40) General inertia; approaching loss of motor functions; I was in the toilets of a club once when I looked down to see a girl’s unseeing eyes blindly staring up at me. The girl in the cubicle next to me was so wasted she’d slipped and fallen over. She’d squirmed a bit and made a feeble attempt to get up. However, this only caused her to swivel around and poke her head underneath the cubicle walls through to my side. We had to pry open the locked door and bodily remove her from the floor. Vomiting; even after you thought you have nothing left to bring up, you’re still going! Marked muscular incoordination; inability to stand or walk; One tequila Toooo tequila Three takila Floor
Comatose (0.35 - 0.50) Complete unconsciousness a.k.a. K.O.
Death (0.45+) This is the part where you die Not so funny anymore now, hey?
And as a wise one once said:
Not drunk is he who from the floor Can rise alone and drink from more But drunk are they, who prostrate lies Without the power to drink or rise April 13 DirectionsDuring one of my many late night ramblings to a friend recently, I voiced the observation that my weekends turn out much better if I dont make any plans. If I have expectations of my weekend and things dont go my way, as they often dont, then I'm cornered into changing my plans or simply being disappointed. If I dont make any plans, something really good always seems to come up!
Subsequently, I've adopted this new philosophy when it comes to my social life. But how far can this philosophy extend? What about the bigger picture like your education, your career or your future and your dreams. What is it about setting goals that can be both our strength and our undoing?
I knew a guy once, who had a dream to travel and study abroad. Part of that dream was to do it entirely on his own, without the finacial support of his family. That entailed a lot of hard work and saving and more hard work in order to hoard up enough money to support that dream. At the time, he was shouldering a full time study load and working 6 days a week. Other extra ciricular sporting commitments meant he hardly had an hour to spare each day. He told me there was some pretty dark days when it would have been so easy to throw in the towel and give up on a dream. But it was the end goal in sight that made him tough it out.
That same guy spoke to me quite some time later. He's now working and living entirely on his own after having achieved that dream. But now, there's no goal, no target, nothing to reach for. And the days and long and nights even longer. The routine is boring and mundane and tiresome. This pointless existence is pointless because there is no focus. In the adsence of clearly defined goals, we become strangely loyal to performing daily acts of useless trivial tasks.
March 14 Existential philosophyBetween stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom..
Viktor E. Frankl - Existential philosophy
March 03 Skin DeepThe whole experience was unreal. After 7 years of wanting it, I was seriously ready for it. So the lead up to the day was more excitement than nerves. When I'd booked my appointment weeks earlier, I'd given him plenty of pictures and photos and descriptions of what I wanted. So on the day it was just a matter of deciding colours and placement. Having been told that any tattoo on bone is seriously painful, I was expecting to cry. When the needle first touched my skin I felt like punching someone. All the adrenaline and endorphins gave me such a natural high that I was hanging for a really good sparring match in the studio.
I sat there for over an hour, grit my teeth and endured the pain. There were moments when I was oblivious to all over senses apart from the feel of the needle. I would zone out and think about all the reasons why I'm getting this done, about the crazy roller coaster that I'd been living this past year. All the personal heart ache and heartbreak, all the fears and insecurities, all the risks and chances. But also of all the learning and discoveries, the experiences and knowledge, the rewards and outcomes, the things I've gained and become so much better for. It is hard to describe the experience in words. Its an emotion, only felt. Suffice to say that the whole experience is healing and empowering on a very personal level. Darryl Gates was my artist. He owns the studio in Soho, central London and runs 5 other tattooists and piercers from his studio. His waiting list is long and his word of mouth reputation far proceeds the man that he is. The tattoo is of Chinese plum blossoms (mei hua) or Ume flower, sometimes called Japanese apricots. 5 flowers and a few loose petals are scattered along my spine. Not low enough to see it when I sit down, not high enough to be irritated by my strap. The flowers bloom in the winter, before all other flowers blossom and the tree can live up to 1600 years. Traditionally, is a symbol of endurance, resilience and perseverance in the face of adversity because it survives the winter. I thought it was a fitting representation of how to survive the rough times, a permanent reminder of how to tough it out. February 25 Lord Byron - When we two partedThy vows are all broken
Thy light is thy fame
I hear thy name spoken
And share in its shame
Lord Byron – When We Two Parted
To liveIt feels so good to live again. With no disrespect to the good life I once had, its amazing to realise how dead I was to the world, to myself, to my wants and wishes. I’m dreading leaving London behind. Perhaps its because I’ve packed up and moved my life twice within the past year. Perhaps I’m not ready to go home. Perhaps I haven’t had enough of London and all that it entails. In a city of 7.3 million people, it is easy to loose yourself in the anonymousness of the crowd and let all pretences drop. No one will lift their head and look you in the eye. They’re all too busy. Its impossible not to get sucked into the all consuming vortex that is London. Its impossible not to be tainted by the hard, rude reality that permeates this city. God help me when I have to go home to Melbourne. Perhaps I need to come back down to earth.
Do you ever step back and listen to your own stream of consciousness and think what the f***?? I have a million thoughts flying through my head at any given moment and I often catch myself wondering where the hell that thought came from. January 17 All things goodChange alone is eternal, perpetual, immortal
- Arthur Schopenhauer
I've stopped writing for a while. I've been freakishly busy that I just don't have the time to slow down enough to think. From the zombified commute to work on the tube to the crawling under my covers at night, I haven't had enough peace to write my mind or listen to my own stream of consciousness. So there's a gap between my writings which reflects a gap my life. I'll fill it in eventually. But not just yet. Those who mind don't matter and those who matter wont mind. January 14 Lord Byron - When we two parted The dew of thy morning
Sunk chill on my brow
It felt like a warning
Of what I feel now
Lord Byron – When We Two Parted New Years Eve in LondonWalkabout is the name of a chain of notoriously Australian pub/bars in London. Step in the door and you’ll be confronted by a crowd of loud, rowdy and unruly Aussies. The numerous gigantic plasma screens scattered around the place shows nothing but footy, cricket or tennis. The bar served good grog and had a tips or tits policy (flash the barmen or tip him, either is acceptable). Surrounded by good company and good music, I spent the build-up to New Years Eve absorbed in funny conversation. I missed home.
20 to midnight, we attempted to make our way to the river for the fireworks but it soon became apparent that the idea was futile. Barricades and barriers were set up all over the streets in a vain attempt to control and direct the swarming crowds. Considering how merrily drunk we were by then, I’m pretty proud to say we ALMOST made it to the river in time. Travel after midnight is complete chaos but we eventually made it back to a house party in Hammersmith. Crashed at a mates house and woke up to the sunshine of a brand new year. A brand new year. Christmas in Prage - Czech RepublicDisgusting weather at Heathrow saw us seriously worried about the possible cancellation of our flight but all fears were laid to rest as we shuffled onto our flight 6 hours after the original flight departure. After arriving and settling in, we headed down to pub for a quiet night of beer and pool with the unexpected company of a few traveling Dutch guys.First night out we headed down to the riverside club Karlovy Lazne. The five levels consist of the entrance level Music Cafe, Discothèque for lovers of 70's disco revival, Kaleidoscope covering hits of the 60's-80's, the Paradogs Club for the best of house, trance and techno, and finally a chill out zone in the top floor café, playing a mellow selection of music and featuring cushions, rugs and soft lighting. Free pouring barmen and the general carefree attitude of guys buying rounds meant it was 6am before we stumbled home and fell into our beds.The days were spent wandering around Prague. Since Mark and I had been there before, we would often break away from the main group to do some serious shopping. The prices were comparatively cheaper than London with no difference in quality.Mecca is one of the best techno clubs in Prague. It's also feast or famine, which means that it can be an epic night or dull as an insurance convention. When a good DJ is spinning and the glitterati turn out, both of which happen often, there's no better place to be. A spacious, industrial lounge with comfy white couches gives way to an even larger dance space; professional dancers on podiums set the mood. And there's a large chill-out space in the basement for when the heat of the dance floors gets to you. |
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