I lay on my lounge, on my side, and wrote this post with a pen on a blank A4 page. My windows and doors were open. A strong, cool, refreshing wind blew throughout my home. The day had been hot and stuffy. The wind felt good. Real good.
If I were being paid for this post I would have put in more of an effort into thinking up an apt simile or metaphor to describe just how good that wind felt.
I must admit that I'm a bit jealous of writers who can think up impressive literary tropes as freely and easily as a cool breeze blowing through a hot house.
I couldn't think of a way to end this post. And I still can't. Take it easy.
Great night at the Lodge last night. Barney was elected 'Grand Pooh-Bah' and I had a really cool conversation with Fred. Seems that he's addicted to chaos. That's he can't .just tell Wilma or Mr. Slate the truth. (I'm No, he has to concoct these ridiculous scenarios and excuses that untimely blow up in his face and cause even more turmoil.
It reminded me of the 'feel for steel'. A recovering heroin addict that I once knew told me intravenous drug users can become addicted not only to the drug they inject but also to the act of injection itself (‘the feel for steel' aka 'needle rush'). Many such users, in the absence of their drug of choice, will inject themselves with water and other non toxic, non lethal substances just to experience this ‘feel of steel')
I have never tried heroin I was offered some to snort at a party when I was 16. I declined. It scared me. I had seen what 'Smack' had done to the local addicts and there was NO way that I wanted or end up like them. They always seemed to be itching and scratching -that in itself was enough to turn me off - let alone ODing. (And I had read Go Ask Alice and Christina. F! :) )
Then when I was 17 I was hit by a car. I was given a shot of morphine by a paramedic. Among other injuries, my right leg was broken. It was 'upside down' and my foot was touching the back of my head.
We'll have to give you a shot of this, so we can straighten your leg".
I was speechless with fear. I had no confidence in this 'shot'. As best I could, I readied myself for excruciating pain.
I got the shot. Not only did I not feel my leg being straightened - I felt... up until that point in my life, 'Euphoria' had just been a word in the dictionary. Now I KNOW what it means. It was one of (if not the) best feelings I've ever experienced. True, I was injected with morphine, not heroin. But they are both opiates and, so I've read, the effects of both are very similar. In short, I can fully understand why someone would use opiates - even overcome a fear of needles and inject them. I had a fear of becoming a junkie and of needles. I still have a fear of needles. To this day I have turned my head away and close my eyes whenever I get an injection from a Dr or nurse.
I could (can) understand how someone could up with the unpleasantness of injection in order to experience the pleasantness of opiate europium. But the idea that someone could become addicted to and enjoy addicted to the act of injection itself was beyond my reckoning.
But I have since learned that many people, addicts and non addicts can be addicted to the 'unpleasant' part of their 'pleasant' activities. Compulsive gamblers can become addicted to the 'crazy making' (the stressful chaos: lying, cheating, manipulating, borrowing, stealing money, going without food, feelings of guilt shame, remorse etc) that is part of being in 'action' (the preparations for and the actual act of gambling.) And there are people (men, women, gay, straight, and other) who become addicted to being in toxic relationships.
There have been times in my life when I have been addicted to 'the feel of steel' (metaphorically), to 'crazy making', chaos, the unpleasant, and the toxic. It all reminds me of what I consider to by Freud's most profound question which went something like: 'Why do good, decent, intelligent people self-sabotage their chances for happiness”?
Needle High: http://alcoholrehab.com/drug-addiction/needle-high/
Chaos Addiction: http://asobermind.blogspot.com.au/2007/12/addicted-to-chaos.html
Mad Men on the Death Drive: http://www.partiallyexaminedlife.com/2010/09/28/mad-men-on-the-death-drive/
Oh yeah, I don't know that to write about. Cream cheese. Iraqi restaurant in Fairfield and coffee and cake in Canley Vale. I have to stop being a procrastinator. .I am boring. I am a failure. Oh, poor, poor pitiful me! Sniff! Sniff! What a tragic hero I am. LOL. Life is good, not perfect, but good enough. Besides it's all cyclical: perfection becomes boredom, boredom turns to chaos, chaos turns to order, order turns to perfect order to boredom and so it goes.
Flamingos. Flamenco dancer. Frieda the artist. I know the answer. My mind goes blank. I feel, tired, sleepy I need more sleep. Sweet seaweed. Beautiful dreamer, hearken to me. Tomorrow is another day. No praise! The Royal Order of Water Buffalos' Lodge is my problem. And boredom. So what can I do about it? I hope I get this data entry/dsr job or another job soon.
What do you do with a drunken sailor? Indeed what do you do? Stretcher bed pan. I seek the sun when I'm having fun. I should be able to do it. Financially speaking. F*ck, I may need to take a 20 min catnap and a Chinese red bull!
Ooooh yeah! Consciously, Two Tone was my first introduction to ska. But then when I heard 60s Blue Beat ska for the first time, I had a feeling that I had heard it before -as a child, that I had heard it but had forgetten it -that it was part of my subconscious. I don't really know the answer.
Veronica 'Ronnie' Lodge paced around Lodge Manor. She had shot Betty. She called her friend Forsythe P "Jughead" Jones on her Smartphone.
The front door bell rang. It was Jughead. Soon Betty's body was in a bathtub. Jughead dismembered the corpse with a hacksaw. Put the bloody parts in garbage bags.
Archibald 'Archie' Andrews would have to be called. His jalopy would be needed to transport the bags. Ronnie didn't want to call him. Didn't want to involve him. But there was no other option.
Beep! Beep! Archie had arrived. The gang of three put the garbage bags in the Jalopy's boot (trunk).
They disposed of the bags around secret, secluded places far, far from Riverdale.
The job done. They got back in the Jalopy. Archie turned the ignition key.
"I feel like a burger and a choc- malt. Let's go to Pop's" said Jughead.
Somewhere in the distance, Hot Dog howled.
Hi Virginia, I'm David. And I am a good egg. I am no Superman but I do live in my 'Fortress of Solitude' (which is ironically alarmed because I have nothing worth stealing) in the South Western Suburbs of Sydney.
I'm 51 years old, never married, no kids. Currently, I am unemployed and looking for work. My recent experience has been in IT. But I'm prepared to wash dishes or mop floors. A job is a job. But whatever job it may be that I end up getting- be it manager or maintenance man -I will take it seriously and do it to the best of my ability.
I am left wing intellectual and I love fancy book learnin'. Despite my intellectual leanings, I can change a light bulb. But I usually I have to stop and contemplate the epistemological, existential met physicality of the change for a while.
I might, but prop ably won't, go back to Uni when I'm retired and study some such as Greek Mythology. Some other things that I'm interested in are: Alienation, Beatniks, Comedy, Depression, ESP , Feminism, Gambling Addiction, Humility, Italy, Justice, Kites, Luncheon Meats, Music, Nature, Outsider Art, Poetry, Queer Theory, Religions, Semiotics, Torture, UFOs, Voodoo, Writing, X-ray Spex, YouTube, and Zoom! (The stuff that little cat 'z' had under his hat).
I don't like bullies, bigots, racists, and trolls.
For this livejournal, I will write about whatever takes my fancy. I will try and be as honest as possible (with some fanciful bullshit thrown in for good measure.). Sometimes I will write "you" when I mean "I" and at other times I will use "I” as a literary, rhetorical device and not in reference to the "I" that is "me". And when needed, I will invoke the Sanity Clause (but not the party of the first part) and please don't tell me that there is no Sanity Clause. Because, yes, Virginia, there is indeed a Sanity Clause. You marx my word there is. I will also try and post something on a weekly basis. But no promises.
Cheers and warm regards
PS: Welcome all to my livejournal I hope you all enjoy reading what I write.
The paper didn’t want to hurt the rock
He just wanted to wrap the rock in his love
But the scissors misinterpreted the rock’s intentions
and began to cut the paper
and when the rock saw that this
she began to blunt the scissors.
27: All Cut-Up About Bill and Brion.
(a prose-poem composed using a variation of the ‘cut-up’ method and randomly selected FB updates.)
Adam,We are all good.. all good silv – David, that would have been to have a look see today for his AuntMimi, Ha, ha! Yes, caught up last weekend , but its closed to the public Charlie and Maren are just back started raining again this arvo John's mum was killed by a drunk driver Visit.He's infiltrating the film industry as you know. from IMAX walking with dinosaurs but not torrential. river has subsided, when John was 16. I'm good, at Kangaroo Point now and I have been painting rooms here... will see what the morning brings When John was a kid he used to go to watch the Elvis movies, writing goofy poems, so John thought "that's a good job!"that managers don't like them in their office either Watching grand final, Steve, I can tell you from first hand experience if it rains all night. and when Elvis would come on the screen, (that inspires no confidence –went up the road to the local dam Googong)keeping out of mischief. I can tell you from current experience if it is 'dangerous' and it goes all the girls in the audience woul...d scream, we will be well and truly wet that teachers don't like smart-arses in their classroom, but I don't care who wins...as it's only about 5ks away!). hopefully we will see you all soon! Adam Ainscough We are all good.. all good silv – David, that would have been to have a look see today for his Aunt Mimi, Ha, ha! Yes, caught up last weekend , but its closed to the public Charlie and Maren are just back started raining again this arvo John's mum was killed by a drunk driver Visit.He's infiltrating the film industry as you know. from IMAX walking with dinosaurs but not torrential. river has subsided, when John was 16. I'm good, at Kangaroo Point now and I have been painting rooms here... will see what the morning brings When John was a kid he used to go to watch the Elvis movies, writing goofy poems, so John thought "that's a good job!"that managers don't like them in their office either Watching grand final, Steve, I can tell you from first hand experience if it rains all night. and when Elvis would come on the screen, (that inspires no confidence –went up the road to the local dam Googong)keeping out of mischief. I can tell you from current experience if it is 'dangerous' and it goes all the girls in the audience woul...d scream, we will be well and truly wet that teachers don't like smart-arses in their classroom, but I don't care who wins...as it's only about 5ks away!). hopefully we will see you all soon!
28. Past Vs Present
I love taking a record,
out of its sleeve,
holding it between my two hands
and putting it on the turntable
that’s plugged into my PC.
I surf the interwebs,
post and comment on Face book,
and listen to the ye-lode music
of yesterday, on vinyl records.
Which is better
the present or the past?
Then or now?
Neither and both.
29: Henrietta’s Photo.
and looking beat,
Henrietta doesn’t like
the photo of herself.
She thinks (believes)
that she looks tired,
haggard, fat, ugly, and goofy.
She cannot see
what others can see - her beauty,
honesty, bravery, kindness,
She can see those things in others
(and bring them out in others)
but she can’t see them in others.
Maybe one day.
write a poem
Poem 24 : Fleeting
I am a unicorn. You are an elm tree.
Together we are symbols
I was a cymbal. You were a vein
that carried blood through a Persian cat’s body. I was Europe.
You were South America. I was young. So were you.
We sailed the Seven Seas in a ship made of our discontent and disappointments.
I was truculent. You were succulent.
I was a hand without fingers.
You were a fly without wings
I was King Kong. You were Fay Wray.
I was blind. You were deaf
I was Liberty. You were Death
I am old. You are old.
I am. You are. I was. You were.
Sic transit gloria mundi
Poem 25: Prowl, Howl, and Growl.
I run out of my home,
into the streets,
and I howl at the full moon.
Somebody calls the cops
who take me to a mental health facility
where I’m assessed by a psychiatrist
who just happens to be a lady lycanthrope.
So we go out
prowling, howling, and growling.
Poem 26: The Symbolic, the Imaginary, and The Real
Intrepid angels play winter banjos
as reluctant demons bellow in despair.
Skyscrapers crumble and fall.
Bees take nectar from honeysuckle roses.
A monkey eats a millipede
A stampede of cattle roars through the business district.
An old lady rocks in her rocking chair,
her mobility scooter is being repaired.
Pink flamingos think as they drink from a pond.
A little blonde girl has lost her red shoes.
K. stands on the shore, before the Law.
The Famous Five are trapped in a cave, on Smugglers’ cove.
The world ends with an implosion of images.
what was said
but he’s a guy who tends
to interpret social interactions.
if what is said
is what is meant.
Does the mouth say one thing
but the body another?
Is it a matter of sincerity
or of politeness, or even manipulation?
He can’t take things
at face value.
It’s a blessing
and a curse.