Only Human On The Inside

I think this will be my last post

2008-04-12T11:59:00.001+10:00

Who will catch me?

Who will catch me?

Who will catch me on
The rebound?

(kidding)

One thing’s for sure
I can’t listen to Snow Patrol this morning.

Taking me on a ride through the city of sadness…

And another thing
Next time I’ll get it right
Or I won’t get it
At all.

---------------

my god! Ben Harper, diamonds on the inside!
i do believe this song will kill me with nostalgia.
good bye sweet aaron, sweet boy who loved me so much.
be happy, be strong. you'll find yours. i'll prey for you.

--------------

i think blogger is over for me
i won't delete it but i don't know how much i'm gonna use it

Walking at Night

2007-12-15T06:46:00.000+11:00

The long street in the light
enmore to marrickvile
garbage truck passes
would the men inside stop to rape me?
i suppose not
but still partly wish for dark

shadows between the trees and houses
who would let me in?
if i was running from
the garbage men

their truck sounds masculine
i am not afraid
i walk so fast its like running

makes me puffed
but i could run much faster

the stories
of hospital people on crack
fighting the nurses
it takes six
to restrain them

i am never out of control
but i am running now

take the lane
off the beaten track

a man makes me afraid
but he's a baker

early morning loaves

i am safe as i pass

the garbage men
won't rape me with the wholesome smell
of fresh bread in their flared nostrils

so close to home
so early hours and so alone
like the sad men on crack

masturbating desperately
with no where else to go

i am lost
so close to home but falling further away
the closer i get

the fear is gone
the door clicks shut
and now?

Stupidly Excited

2007-11-02T14:49:00.000+11:00

Here are two academically motivated posts. Read both. Mwa

I am stupidly excited because I have just finally understood psychogeography, which was a Situationist study of how the urban environment affects our experiences, our relationships and our lives - their actuality and their possibility. A way of mapping and analysing cities that discusses the effects on humen expereinces, feelings and social interactions of the built environment, and vis versa.

I probably haven't explained this enough at all, and you can read more by just looking up Psychogeography on Wikapedia or google, but its really exciting because I now know how to write my Fourth Chapter on Fiona McGrgor's novel "chemical palace" and Sydney!

I was just not getting it before - how Certeau and Guy Debord were in any way relavant to me - but now it is unbundantly clear and the possibilities for analysis are endless and almost tantilising!

Yay! I've got my mo-jo. This chapter is going to be the bomb!

Lucky, cos I was feeling as limp as an old zuchini about my thesis a few days ago... how things change.

Ah, the trials and tribulations of an academic!

Finally, Something I can Work With!

2007-11-02T09:48:00.000+11:00

This image is of Leviathan - a mythical drangon associated with the sea. John Birmingham's novel constructs Sydney as a huge, breathing, teeming living creature, sprawling out along the coast, with a life all of its own:

Quote:
Beneath the shining harbour, amid the towers of global greed and deep inside the bad-drugs madness of the suburban wastelands, lies Sydney's shadow histrory. Terrifying tsunamis, corpse-robbing morgue staff, killer cops, new-Nazis, power junkies and bumbling SWOS teams electrify this epic tale of a city with a cold vacuum for a moral core.
------end quote

Was having the chapter four blues. Till Liz hooked me up with John Birmingham's "Leviathan", and Melissa pointed me towards the situationists and the idea of "psychogeography" (see below):

...The situationists' desire to become psychogeographers, with an understanding of the 'precise laws and specific effects of the geographical environment, consciously organized or not, on the emotions and behaviour of individuals', was intended to cultivate an awareness of the ways in which everyday life is presently conditioned and controlled, the ways in which this manipulation can be exposed and subverted, and the possibilities for chosen forms of constructed situations in the post-spectacular world. Only an awareness of the influences of the existing environment can encourage the critique of the present conditions of daily life, and yet it is precisely this concern with the environment which we live which is ignored.

"The sudden change of ambiance in a street within the space of a few meters; the evident division of a city into zones of distinct psychic atmospheres; the path of least resistance which is automatically followed in aimless strolls (and which has no relation to the physical contour of the ground); the appealing or repelling character of certain places - all this seems to be neglected."

------end quote

So now I am armed and dangerous, with Ruth Park, John Birmingham and Michel de Certeau, and only about two weeks to get draft done! Eeek.

The Truth

2007-10-29T22:25:00.000+11:00

The truth is hard to swallow at times.

No one reads this anyway.

My boyfriend is gay.

He wants to have sex and I don't and I feel guilty.

I want to have sex and he is more interested in tv.

Sorry i touched you.

I don't mind, you can touch me.

But you don't want me to touch you....

Don't want me to...

Whatev

this is a transmission from hounddog ssb central.

don't expect logic, dear reader.

there's none

no one is reading, anyway...

no logic...

no viewer.

time to look-up the situationists.

mcgregor's "sense of place"

stay focused.

Another night, another day

2007-10-06T11:01:00.000+10:00

One day brings a full stop.
A sudden and sad proclamation of an ending.
Oprah and Judge Judy...
Then we drink into the afternoon.

At the Sly Fox,
Crying only
When Gwen Stafani makes me.

The evening brings a fever;
Impulsive seeking comfort
In movement and places and speed.

The night brings friends and sympathy,
Support, belief and more drinking.

Then the night brings unexpected return.
Twice-bitten, still shy
I open myself up just the same.

Then the night brings movement,
Impulsive and healing?
Sharing sadness
Sharing imperfection.

Where are we going?

Where are we now?

The night fades into day
And busy with practicalities.
Heat outside is overwhelming,
My head aches softly, hardly at all...

The day asks little of me, but
I am reluctant
To give at all.

Twice-bitten
Shy
And cautious.
With nothing left to lose.

The days and nights are easy if
You live them one by one.

Look back and you'll see too much
To fit inside your eyes.

Look forward and see nothing.
Don't look forward, you'll
See nothing.

Another night, another day.

Becoming

2007-09-27T08:49:00.000+10:00

Becoming is a process, not an event.

Sitting on the edge of the inercity - on the new marble wall of the Seymore Centre, by the old buildings of Cleveland St and City Rd... across from Vic Park... sun setting into a barmy spring evening over a city that has been my playground for years.

Becoming is my aim and my destiny. I am curious as I watch myself change. I try to point myself in specific directions, but becoming happens almost despite us.

New plans, new priorities, new feelings and experience. Standing on the same street but seeing different things, hearing new sounds. Some poisons once put up with - now unacceptable.

The times I've wandered the streets of Redfern late at night, alone, no money left, no drugs left, no sense of self to speak of... fading. Fading like this sunset into this balmy spring evening...

Another birthday, but it feels different. I actually do feel older this time, and it's a wonderful thing. Its a deeply wonderful thing.

The process of becoming promts a looking-back.

It is hard - at least in these minutes, outside the Seymore Centre, on the edge of the inner-west - not to look for an exact moment when I first lost myself. Somewhere in between Chippendale and Flinders St... In the endless satties and viles, the countless hours of exhausting work in the filthy, sparkling places...

Because if I found the spot in time where I had lost the girl I was, could I not get her back? Could I not re-unite? Become what I was?

But becoming never looks behind itself. Becoming is a process, and I can only watch and tend to myself, as I become a new something.

I remember now how much I love this city! In this moment my love is felt, not intellectualised or remembered from earlier better times...

The pay-off of becoming is discovering home.

No I'm not!

2007-09-26T17:04:00.000+10:00

(Mikhail Bakhtin)
I'm not boring (apologises for previous negative post... also for bad spelling - and that apology stands from now till the end of time, I'm only making it once...) Anyway, I just gave a paper on Nightclubs as Carnivalesque Spaces and people really listened and asked lots of questions and my chapter is going really well. Here's a random excerpt (from the chapter, not the paper):

"While it must be said that both scenes are predicated first and foremost on dance and music, where doof culture may be said to represent a ‘carnival of protest’, The Chemical Palace perhaps represents a ‘carnival of survival’, where new ways of living and of presenting oneself as a human being and a sexual subject are enacted on the dancefloor and beyond... St John explains that it is the all-inclusive ‘do it yourself/ourself’ ethos that permeates these events which gives them the ability to inspire participants to something more meaningful than a passive consumer hedonism (St John 2001, 15). Discussing the ‘greater social significance’ (beyond a simple pursuit of pleasure) of the doof, St John says that ‘spectator/star roles are not easily filled’ and then quotes Hakim Bey, who says ‘the artist is not a special sort of person, but every person is a special sort of artist’ (St John 2001, 15). According to Bakhtin’s definition of carnivaleque spaces ‘everyone participates because its very idea embraces all people’, making both doof culture and the radical queer dance party scene examples of carnivalesque space (Bakhtin 1965, 7). In FreeNRG, Graham St John also draws our attention briefly to Bakhtin, discussing instances in ‘Western cultural history’ – from Medieval carnival culture, to hippy festivals like Woodstock, to modern dance party culture – where participants have escaped the regimentations of the established social and economic order; he claims that ‘history reveals such Dionysia to possess a perennial quality’ (St John 2001, 17)."

It's also my birthday on the weekend and Liam and I are working up an acoustic version of "I saw a UFO and nobody believes me"!

I've just decided to get rid of PhD blog, and blog it here, cos my PhD basically is my life at the moment. Ah, that's the way it goes.

Yay! Sunday!!!!!

I am boring

2007-09-14T13:04:00.000+10:00

Remember when I used to be interesting?

It's like everything in my life has shrunk and slowed-down.

It is calmer. It is safer. I am happier.

But I am dull.

The most important things to me are food and TV.

It's like I'm hibernating.

Will I be a butterfly when I emerge?

Will anyone ever read my thesis?

I think I will get a casual job. With money I could be more fun.

BodyMod and zenVoodoo

2007-08-18T17:33:00.000+10:00

I've just discovered the website bodymod.org, where you can have your own profile and post images and info about bodymod stuff, including "hardcore" such as playpiercing, etc. I've created a profile, but I'm on someone else's computer, so I can't put my pics up yet. I look forward to sharing my pics of piercing stuff - past and future - very soon. My profile is rapunzelemma.

Last night we went to see Fiona and ana perform their final zenVoodoo performance - Font, a 'tableaux vivant about intimacy, fear and disease'. It was fantastic.

I think I'll write about it in the thesis and post that text here at some stage.

Sux

2007-08-09T13:13:00.000+10:00

Didn't get accepted for the publication as my paper was "not in theme" enough. Sux.

Will update soon on my first and second chapters - particularly my other blog.

Time in life to forget about drugs and remember the dress-ups.

Have been told I need to excercise - swimming - or my back willl get worse and worse.

Aqua aerobics anyone?

I Heart Zach

2007-07-24T01:05:00.000+10:00

On the couch with rag-pain blues. Watching big brother up late and they are showing the scene where Zach sings Happy Birthday Italian Stallion to Joel! I am so happy that the girly-boy corset-maker has made it to the final week. Perhaps Australia loves a faggot, after all!

Had a nice catch up with Jorja last night - homemade pizzas by me and Aaron, lots of wine, talking talking... it's great to have her back in town.

Didn't go to uni today because of the rag sitch, but I have a big week ahead of me study-wise. My draft of chapter 1 has to go in on friday, and then I've got two weeks to prepare a draft of chapter 3. Then the rest of the year is basically gonna be like that. From this point on it's only going to get more hectic until completion, which has to be by January.

Anyway, just a short note tonight - go Zach!!!!!

Hi

2007-07-17T15:26:00.000+10:00

Just got over being sick, put in a paper for publication (see thesis blog), am learning the guitar... And saw the new Harry Potter film last night... sooooo good!

Love to talk more, but I have to go pick Aaron up from the bus station - he's been away on hols with the fam.

I'll write soon.

My Beautiful Boy / His Gorgeous Girl

2007-06-09T17:58:00.000+10:00

He walks into a room and everyone looks up - they notice his slim attractive frame, his sweet smile and dark hair, falling sweetly over one eye - but he resists attention, making himself smaller 'till people look away. He joins the group, relieved that eyes and minds have turned to louder sources of stimulation.

My beautiful boy - doesn't like to be the centre of attention.

He calls me with a giddy smaile in his voice. Shyly asks how my day was, still flirting, still as excited to see me as the day we first kissed.

My beautiful boy - treats me like I am the most interesting person in the world.

He walks whenever he can, sits patiently on busses, sleeps dreamily on the lawn at uni, watches people pass like schools of fish, like soft summer winds, like lazy saturday morning hours spent in bed...

My beautiful boy - is peaceful and good.

He holds me tight and I can feel his love; young and strong, loyal and sure. His body makes me feel calm. His body is familiar and amazing. His eyes look into my eyes and make me pretty. When we get closer, his desire glows and pulses, it is strong, but never selfish, never blind or deaf.

My beautiful boy - is a fabulous lover.

He calls me his gorgeous girl. We laugh a lot, laugh all the time - at ourselves, the world, each other. We're going to have Shrek babies, he's got a boyfriend on the side, I'm more masculine than him... We laugh and coochie coo our way through a lovely afternoon... He likes the cold, I love the warmth, but we both like to shop, both like white wine... and every movie he has shown me has made me cry.

My beautiful boy - has the right ideas on life.

He is young, his body is slender, he sleeps through the night. Sometimes he is childish, and sometimes I crave maturity. Sometimes I am old, bossy and superior, and sometimes he is proud and stubborn. Sometimes I fear imcompatability. But my evolution has slowed down, and I have gained the patience to wait and the desire to grow together. And most of the moments we share together - glorious, sweet and fine - make me feel as if there's no space between us, no inequalities. No gap that is not bridged by love, and his incredible wisdom and kindness.

My beautiful boy - is an old soul with some of a little boy's fears.

He makes today warm and inspiring. He understands yesterday, respects my scars and handles them with care. My baby makes me dream of the tomorrow; a future together. A little family, a life-long partnership... Sometimes I feel I do not know him at all, because he is still getting to know himself. What does his future hold? I do not know, but nor would I want to. I only want him to find his own way, create his own path, and walk it with pride. And, yes, I hope his future is with me, I'm selfish - I don't ever want to be without this kind of love, or far away from his soft kisses, or out of sight/out of his beautiful mind.

My beautiful boy - is his own man; a tree putting down roots steadily, growing slowly but surely, turning his face to the sun and soaking up the beauty.

So, today his gorgeous girl declares her love:

Real, sweet and growing. Keep me close and try to trust me, as I will never stop working to earn your trust and make your days happy. I want to be your constant bright star, your little girl, your equal in conversation, the arms that hold you through tears and smiles, the one that makes you weak at the knees, and the one that makes you strong through the years... Your gypsie dancing in the rain.

My beautiful boy - turned 22. We're going to one of our favourite, dark, throbbing clubs; to feel the deepest warmth (under the ground, below the rain, out of the wind...), to dance away the stiffness of winter, to remember our youth, our bodies - coiled springs of sexuality. And to fill ourselves again with music - dark, sexy, funky, joyful - and new!

Come play in the city with me again, baby. My beautiful boy - for your birthday - this time you are the centre... and the whole world dances with you.

XXXXXOOOOOO

I love you Aaron.

A Room of One's Own

2007-06-09T17:13:00.000+10:00

(Well to share with 30-40 other academics...!)

This week coming I will be moving into PGARC 2. The office intended for students writing up in their final year. I will be studying harder and writing every day that I go in. It is a big office with individual desks that are apparently huge (haven't seen it yet), and there's no talking allowed!

I'n many ways I wish I wasn't even doing the thesis - I'm actually quite keen to get outa uni and go to TAFE to do cooking and business - but I feel I need to finish what I started. So, instead of doing this half-arsed, I'm moving into the thesis-den, where I will be surrounded by obsessed academics with no social lives, and only one thing on their minds - the documents on their desktops.

I am honestly sick of wasting time, and quite over my tv addiction - which is only made worse by the cold weather. I'm going out less, taking drugs less often, and really wanting to expand my self-expression:

Mum got me a small, but pretty good guitar at a garage sale, and I really want to learn to play it.

We are going to yoga on tuesday, and I hope to start doing that regularly.

I've paid off heaps of bills in the last few months and this week I bought boots and jumpers for winter, so I am prepared to be poor again (now that work has finished - at least until next semester).

Went out to dinner with Dave the other night. Sorry, Dave *took me* out for dinner! How lovely. We had nice wine and good catch up on everything. It was lovely, I am really thankful for our friendship, which has stood the test of time and many other tests.

Miss you, Lizzo. We probably just keep missing each other, but I'm on hols now (kind of, not really...) but let's get together soon.

Nat, I don't know if you read this blog at all, but I wanted to say I am still really keen to catch up, and want to discuss many things with you. Now that I am not teaching, I'll give you a call really soon so we can do coffee before I organise that grrrls get together. I haven't forgotten, just been busy. XXXXXOOOOOO

Ok. I'm gonna update my thesis blog now, and should be updating it a lot more often now that I'm moving into a room of my own!!! yay.

*em

Thesis inspired

2007-05-11T01:22:00.000+10:00

Check my thesis blog - linked from this one. As my next post will be there.
Fiona Mc interview needs to be reported ect.
yay

No One to Answer to

2007-05-11T01:13:00.000+10:00

I think for a long time now, I've felt like I've been answering to others, or trying to explain myself - to convince myself and others that I'm ok, or that I'm moving forward (my perennial self-requirement). You know, that things are getting better.

No more.

'Cos I've arrived. Not yet at the future - that's a rainbow's end - but at the end of the past. The memories finally begin to fade. The present finally feels more real than the time in which I was drowning.

I've decided not to go to Vancouver, as I still have so many debts to slowly work my way though. I have become the master of my own destiny again, and I choose safety and the reposible choice for now.

Adventure waits. The challenge is to be still for a while. To plod along.

In my family, and in my life, that's so strange as to almost constitute aventure!

Ah, the irony...

The sweet sweet irony...

So, thesis anyone...?

Travelling Under the Speed-Limit

2007-04-24T03:46:00.000+10:00

It’s so strange for a fast girl to have to take it slow. I’ve always been the fastest talker, fastest thinker. The first to say yes, the first to try something. Even my metabolism is super-fast! When I decide to make a change – in housing, job, partner, style – it’s made within days or weeks. But as I get older, some parts of me have begun to slow.

The time at Turner St was a comparatively short time, but it affected me so much that it feels like a life-time. A life-time of foggy memories, and blurred days, bright nights colliding. A life-time of a woman living as if suspended in aspic. Sometimes crying out, and not even hearing her own cries for help.

But it was not a long time. Not really. The apartment was only ever partly home. Josh flashed in the pan, burned and died-out, and has been reborn many times. I slipped away from Luke and Daniel (to some extent) before I even realised I was slipping, and my inner-child and my dreams and pride suffered neglect at my own hands for less than a year.

But the way I saw the world changed so dramatically. The colour of my eyes – from blue to midnight-grey. The way I held myself – from high to slouching. The tingling of excitement in my fingers and toes became dull, the smile on my face became more often one of resignation. I did not study. I did not write my thesis, or even talk about it, and very few people asked. I did not write or paint or draw, and my blog entires became scarce and forlorn – passionate outbursts of feeling caused by problems I could not yet solve. Was not yet ready to face and conquer.

I shrank. I bled. I got messy. I was lost.

Then the girl who was always the fastest – frightening people, and herself with the way she could change in an instant, and move on to something, somewhere else, becoming someone else – made her first move. Asking Josh to leave was heartbreaking. It took something that I had forgotten I had in me. It was instinct, and my love for him, my emotions and desires rallied against it. But I did it, and it was done.

And a loneliness descended that I did not have the tools to cope with. It was a physical loneliness, a loneliness of pride and self-neglect, and a philosophical loneliness. It took me a long time to forgive and reconcile my understandings of his betrayals, his pathologies, and my own self-destructive self-neglect.

And the memories of the good times shone like a lighthouse light, so bright and so like home that they blinded me for a while, and I could not see other people, and I felt that they could not see me.

And I could not see another life.

Then the second decision – to move to Wollongong. I gave up the life that had left me bruised and wrung-out, but I had no real memory or image of any other. For a time, I was in limbo. Sometimes stagnating, sometimes taking two steps forward and then one back, sometimes taking one step forward and two back. ‘till I forced myself to take some leaps – Marrickville, teaching, stepping-up my commitment on my thesis.

But for the fastest girl, this healing has been slow. This re-orientation to myself feels like it has been a life-time coming. And it’s still hard to remember a Me without shame, without sadness and isolation, with uncompromising optimism and self-belief. But dancing at Marnie’s bday at Sly Fox, singing with my family at Folkies, speaking at the Bod Mod conference, and hanging with my friends and my wonderful lover at the Impy again – connected, open and interested – I begin to remember what it felt like to be me before:

It feels like life, peace, energy and harmony. And time begins to glide again – seasons to touch me, sleep to be restful and my muscles to relax. Time flies calmly and majestically when your soul is having fun.
-----

For the time of quietness and healing that mum, marnie and the gong provided me... here are the lyrics to one of the most beautiful songs I know:

"Small Blue Thing"

Today I am
A small blue thing
Like a marble
Or an eye

With my knees against my mouth
I am perfectly round
I am watching you

I am cold against your skin
You are perfectly reflected
I am lost inside your pocket
I am lost against
Your fingers

I am falling down the stairs
I am skipping on the sidewalk
I am thrown against the sky

I am raining down in pieces
I am scattering like light
Scattering like light
Scattering like light

Today I am
A small blue thing
Made of china
Made of glass

I am cool and smooth and curious
I never blink
I am turning in your hand
Turning in your hand
Small blue thing

The Universe and Everything...

2007-04-13T22:36:00.000+10:00

Everything is everything, God is dead and we are all trashed.

Wednesday was Marnie's bday and we hit the Sly Fox dressed as Geisha! All in matching outfits that aaron and I made.

We danced like psychos, took heaps of substances and had a fantastic time. Saw Brian and Alan, and Josh came over the next day.

Marnie is now (two days later, mind you...) finally looking sleepy, and she is as stoned as a heretic. But none of us have noticed, cos we are too busy cleaning the glass walls of our houses.

MMMMM top shelf cask wine!

I have had a wonderful few days - dancing and dressing up and all the rest - and not a pokie in sight.

Praise be for great family, good freinds, quality substances, fun times and stability.

Tonight I feel like a stable-table. Built strong. I can take your TV-dinner... and some!

Weimar, love and dentistry

2007-03-17T01:17:00.000+11:00

“The living ephemera of a lost Berlin, if only a few hundred scraps, had fallen into my hands. Now I had considerably more than a cache of weird material to brighten up a wild performance project. Scattered around my copy stand was enough arcane junk for a book. Or two.” - Mel Gordon, Voluptuous Panic.

Have literally been too busy to blog! But am hauled-up with a swollen face after wisdom tooth extraction, so here it goes. I am working on my chapter/paper on the grotesque. It is a paper that will be a chapter, or perhaps I am just writing the chapter (that’s more like it) and then will have to distil a paper from it next month for the Somatechnics Conference.

I have been so busy with teaching – this was my first week – went well. And also trying to get this chapter happening. Running out of time and keep getting confounded by pain and health issues. Grrrr. Nothing new there.

Had a wonderful dance with Dave et al at the Newtown, and nice dinner at his, and got drunk way too easily! Terrible hang-over this morning – vomming and all! – but still made it to the lecture for 1025 and to my dental appointment.

Aaron has been an angel – taking me to the dentist and putting up with my crap all day… and he even says my face looks pretty! Such a lie, I look like I’m sucking on a golf ball. I said it looks like he beats me… He said something like that I probably deserved it. (I love Aaron’s sense of humour.)

How to record this time? It’s so peaceful and busy and productive and filled with love. Aaron is wonderful and I feel so level at the moment.

Mardi Gras came and went. Josh came to visit us and it was fabulous – a swan song? Or will he be a long-suffering occasional feature of my life?

Alan has all but disappeared. No phone, I think. No contact. Back on morphine. Shame is the colour of his voice. He barely bothered to raise his eyes to look at me when we were both alone in the lounge-room last time he was here. Wonders if he’ll pull himself up? Or slide from the radar, from beauty and talent and wasted brilliance, into the junkie life-long shrinking process. Eyes-down, voice quiet – losing sight of the view from window to the world outside his small uncomplicated addiction. Come on, mate… I hardly think you gave life a fair chance to get you interested.

If you give up now, it will be too soon. And yet, what do I say to you? Nothing.

I stand at the junction of your life and sense you are slowly making a turn you cannot double-back on, and I say nothing. I should at least yell at you once or twice, or write you a letter… Even if I seem a fool, or you tell me I am a looser, out of line, and got it all wrong. Even if you yell at me to mind my own God Damn business, I should try.

What kind of a friend doesn’t try because they are too embarrassed to appear foolish?
-------
Anyway this is not as much of an issue as it seems in this post. I just thought about it, and that all came out.

For myself, I am a lot happier. Taking much less drugs, and staying home most nights. Spending a lot of time with Aaron and still very much in love.

Hopeful about the year to come, and enjoying being busy. Teaching was definitely the right thing to do. Activity breeds activity in me. Being busy helps me get more work done!

March already! Shit.

Life is still tender

2007-02-19T04:54:00.000+11:00

Life is still tender and bitter-sweet.

I blog in a vulnerable moment... it is in keeping with my history, my habit of hanging my dirty washing in the sun for all to see. But after all, it dries much faster in the sun, than in the dark. And I stand by my way of being. For all the misunderstanding, trouble and magic it has brought to my life...

Mum is going for a test tomorrow, and I with her, and I wish I had remembered to get more sleep... but the night just seemed to vanish... and I am still awake.

An intense week.

A friend was beaten up, and I soothed his forehead. A friend returned to give and share his love, and we danced to the beat of a life fantastic. And I bid him goodbye and was happy to. This time.

I showed my lover what I had learned, and he surprised me once again with his every move: tender, adventurous, caring and good.

My girls are haing a sleep-over, as mum rests-up in Panic's room for her confounting day tomorrow.

But it is not tomorrow - it is in less than two hours that I must be up and ready.

Let the news be good. Or the lesser of the evils.

Let me write this week with clarity and peace, taking one more step along the road to my chosen destination.

My room is better, but there is still so much to do.

Back to Blogger and Beyond

2007-01-24T04:39:00.000+11:00

I've not blogged ina long time. Blogs seem to be going out of fashion, but to tell you the truth, I still really love this format. The reason I've not blogged is because, at first I was too busy getting ready for the move, etc, and since moving in here in november, we've not had the internet (or a TV!) until now (still no TV, which may well be a good thing for me. No Oprah and cooking shows to distract me from my thesis).

Which brings me to the point in my life that I am at. After going on the dole and taking a break from study, I have returned. And this time I am quietly determined to work my ass off.

I have just paused in a four hour late night stint of thesis-writing, and am proud to say I wrote almost a thousand words - most of it thesis quality!

This is the year I complete it. This year is make or break for me. It'll be Dr Emma next year, or the last three years will have been wasted (in at least some ways). I have never failed to scrape-in and make it at the last minute before, pull a miracle out of my ass, finish with a burst of proliffic brilliance, etc. And I don't intend my PhD to be my fisrt major failure.

The house is great. We don't always have clenliness, but we have love and tolerance, and everyone is doing their best - with their own lives and as a householder. Manic and Panic are both working. Panic is enrolling in uni, and Manic is making me even prouder than I always was of her.

There's so much I want to write about - our house-warming, my first time back at Manbangle in months, Brian, Jen, Alan and Stefan, Jamie's soulful trip to Arq, talking to Fiona (my author) at Baddog, the sadness of losing a friend. The happiness of finding a home. But I want to take a shower, so I'll leave all that for now.

But what I do want to write about is Aaron. Aaron has come as a surprise. At a time when I am self-focussed and determined not to let myself slide from my path again. He is full of surprises - eagerness, sharp intellegence, intuition, tenderness, courtesy, passion and anxiety, tolerance and hope, fear and beauty.

I am lately not used to being treated with such care and respect. It is nice to take chances and not be bruised again and again. We are both cautious in our own way. We try to open up. Perhaps I need to have more belief in others, and he in himself.

It is a lovely affair, and it makes me smile.

------------ I will update more frequently now, but go out less with all this study. So, keep an eye on this space, and don't forget to ask me out for coffee, etc. I'm not becoming a thesis hermit!

We're Movin On Up

2006-11-30T02:16:00.000+11:00

So the rumours are confirmed! The Grrrls are about to hit the big city!

Me, Manic and Panic signed a lease for a house in Marrickville. It's humble but pretty nice. The bathroom and kitchen are small but the bedrooms are big! It is so close to everything and so convenient that no one will have an excuse not to visit us!

Our street is wide and tree-lined, a stone's-throw from the main drag, Maccas, KFC and our very own discount pharmacy! Let the good times roll...

I am excited and scared about moving back to Sydney. But mostly excited. Cautiously optimistic. And excited!

Our house warming will be coming up very soon.

Wish me luck in the move this week!

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2006-11-21T19:52:00.000+11:00

Kelly - Shoes

Three Little Maids

2006-11-17T03:27:00.000+11:00

Hey- check out my MySpace:

My URL
http://www.myspace.com/rapunzelinsuburbia

I'm still pretty new to it but I have lots of pics and more to come

http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&friendID=85904591&imageID=835987291

MySpace is best for creating a network of friends that can all keep in contact. Click on some of my friends...

In other news, the Three Little Maids from School applied for a house in Marrickville today. Wish us luck!

Also, I cannot believe I never got into Mae West before:

Smoker's porn!

The Last Supper

2006-11-11T19:17:00.000+11:00

I have been saying that last night's Kooky would be my last for a while - probably till I get back up to Sydney to live at least - and that's true. But I realised on the train on my way back to the Gong today that it runs even deeper than that.

I really enjoyed last night, and it was worth it, but I have been doing this for years, and I need a break. I'm sick of going to work tired and sore. I'm sick of spending half or more of my earned wages on the bitch during many weeks. My use goes up and down, but the more I am able to be at home, the less I use.

It is being away from home, trapsing around the city, trying to fill in hours between shifts or social events, etc, etc, that inspires it. Also certain friends that I hang out with, obviously. And the sad thing is, I do really haved to limit my time with those people, especially now.

Because

I really feel like I've had enough of this for the moment. The magic is luke-warm to me, the rewards are not worth the costs at the moment. I am working a lot now, and don't want to put in all that effort and have nothing to show. I want to achieve something financially this time! Not just scrape by, wasting heaps of unneccessary cash and just letting it go.

I need to become protective of my money for a while - at least until after Christmas. I need to keep my eyes on the prize and not let any event or occasion or person weaken my resolve. I need to work every shift I am offered, and would rather not have to do them tired or sore or coming-down.

Just as my family and some of the people I love the most discover the excitements of clubbing and substances, I am growing weary of them. Of course I still know how to have a good time, and I make the most of my night if I am out - last night's kooky was great!

But it is time for me to grow up a little and get serious for a couple of months. During this week, I had a pokies relapse, and that worries me most. I has just begun to earn money and take pride in that again, and in spending it on useful things like bills, food, etc. I don't want to erase the progress in my life, in my recovery.

So last night's Kooky was a last supper of sorts for me. I will return to the scene, you will see me on the dancefloor, and I will feel the rushes again - but not until I deserve it. Not until I have successfully completed - or at least organised and paid for - our relocation, and my new life. Until then - beers, saving, paying bills, debts, cooking, planning, working, sleeping.

And maybe some art and some writing while I'm at it, eh!

MySpace, Employment and Marrickville

2006-11-08T01:52:00.000+11:00

The reason I've been slow to update this blog lately is

a. I got a job

b. I got another job

c. I've been trying to balance both jobs

and

d. In my spare time I've been trying to prepare for a PhD review, keep up with friendships - old and new - eat properly, sleep a reasonable amount, and regularly wash the only pair of work pants I have (which are actually Sal's...)

oh, and e. I've given in the myspace thing and started using it. but only for messages, pics, etc, not for a blog. My profile is disco kitten. mwa

Mr McCosker was right when he said 'confidence comes from great pants'. I am convinced it was Sal's pants that got me the agency job, and the the job at the Ox. And it wouldn't surprise me if Marnie's success at the IGA could also be attributed to the great pants she bought for the interview!

So we're all working girls now. Trips up to Sydney and back all the time, Marnie dating Jaxon in The Gong perhaps dampening her impatience to move to Sydney, Phoebe finishing HSC on friday, and me starting to look for houses for the three of us - in Marrickville (perferred), Sydenham, or St Peters.

Not sure when we'll actually move, but at this point there's no specific haurry, although by Christmas, or soon after is likely.

We have Kooky this weekend as I am working in Syd that night and can go after - but then I will not be able to go for probably a few months - so we're all going to make the most of it!

That's the up date.

In Bed, In Thought...

2006-10-23T12:37:00.001+10:00

Here's a little poem I got woken up to write last night:
(For Alan)

A rumble rolls across my tummy
And comforts me
Like far-off thunder,

Coming from a place more
Precious even
Than home.

Coming from
The home I carry with me
Life-long, life-forgiving.

Muscles ache from working:
An honest day for honest pay.
I feel sleepy and alive.

My blood knows I am trying.
The cuts heal so fast, and
Itch with healing.

Your collage comes to me...
I see it!
Reds and whites and greyscale.

The flowers of addiction
And your beauty...
haemoglobin is the key.

A desert... and then

2006-10-21T21:30:00.000+10:00

They say that when it rains, it pours.

I've been broke and had nothing much new going on for a while. Then I stopped work at Manacle, spent extra time on study and have some conference papers brewing.

Then my birthday and all that came with it. Alan, an amazing night at Kooky with family and friends, my scare, my little sadnesses, my special gift to myself, and my various wake up calls. Am I awake? I'm waking up. I tell you now, I'm waking up. Cos the rain is starting to pour. The summer rains - glorious and warm.

A hot day walking through the park the day of my birth, I decided - Sydney is my home and my soul. It was time to return. And the plan was hatched with Marnie and Phoebe.

So twenty days later, two vistits to Sydney to hunt for jobs, another unsuccessful trial at the Newtown, and now I have a job with a hospitality agency. I've worked one shift and have a long bar shift tomorrow in Centenial Park. Next saturday I'll be paid again! A wage earner. And in the bank, so I can leave my card at home and keep m y money away from the queen of denial.

And why is it pouring?

Because I am also working tues, wed, thurs and friday in the coming week. Only four hours per day, but wow! This will be me earning more money than I have in a long time. Cos I've been living on the smell of an oily rag.

But I'm not sure about the agency work with the tats on my hands, might get difficult. I only really saw it as getting me the bond to move back to Syd and helping clear the last few personal debts that are outstanding. Then another call today!!!!! From the Oxford (not in Sydney, but here in the Gong) It's the one place here I'd really like to work. The interview is on Monday. Wish me luck!!!

Pouring?! Sometimes I feel that my desert has become a tornado. I also have my progress report coming up and the interview in the next two weeks and have to have about another 15,000 words done for that!

Busy, busy. Thank God. I've been waiting for long enough to feel alive again.

My Cafe

2006-10-18T17:25:00.000+10:00

So, even though this is a pipe-dream-future-plan-thingy I thought it best to record it here. I have had the idea that one day I want to open my own deli-style cafe. I’ll make and sell all my own pies and pastries, soups and salad-dressings. Marinades, dry marinades and spice-mixes, chocolates and deserts, bickies and slices, and maybe even ice-cream, etc. I’ll sell them for take-home use, as well as serving snacks, deserts and light-lunches (pies, sandwiches, pasta) with coffee and other beverages in a café style. We’d have local art-work for sale on the walls, local musicians come in to play, we’d show films, and offer meeting spaces for local groups, etc. And I would live above it to cut down on costs, as well as continuing to teach and lecture part-time or casually while the business gets off the ground.

Anyway, what do you think? It’s just a dream, a vague hope for the future…

Come-Down

2006-10-16T19:28:00.000+10:00

I'm coming down, so crapily. I think it was the Sydney-Uni-ground-powder find.

Aside from that, everything's fine.

Got no motivation to write.

S has upset me.

I'll blog properly when my brAIN works again tomorrow.

This is SOOOOO perfect!

2006-10-07T23:21:00.000+10:00

Your Birthdate: October 2

You're so intuitive, it's like you have a sixth, seventh, and eighth sense.
You connect with others freely and easily - and you tend to have many best friends.
Warm and caring, it's hard for you to close your heart to anyone.
Affection is like air for you - you need to give and receive it to survive.

Your strength: Your universal compassion

Your weakness: Your unpredictable mood swings

Your power color: Mauve

Your power symbol: Butterfly

Your power month: February

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Flame Trees

2006-10-06T23:42:00.000+10:00

It's time for trying to sleep tonight, but I am restless and there's and anxiety in my fingers and toes. Mulberries, needles and blood. Alan and Josh. Mostly Alan right now. Where are they in this world? Where is Chris? And how will I find him to give him his dues? I touch A in my dream, and there's no pain. He holds my arm, so firm like he did on my birthday... But this is a firmness, a realness I can say goodbye to. Can't you hear me? I am in mourning under my breath. Every bloody day I am in mourning for it all. Not dead, but dead to me? So many tastes of wonder. So many poisons.

I am going to get counselling.

Danny and Cara went to hospital on the hill (in Wollongong) and gave blood. Cara also gave plasma - apparently they take the blood, separate the plasma and put the blood back in.

I am jealous. I want to feel and see that needle, taking blood to save lives - car accident victims, babies whose blood is bad, people who bleed and need the blood of others to survive... We all need a little bit of each other in our veins... But I cannot give blood. If it's not one reason, it is always another. No tattoos for a year now, but I have had sex with "gay" boys. I am high-risk? I am too risky. Take a chance on this girl? I have made decisions that make me helpless to help those in need of help. Hmmm. Maybe.

Anyway, after they gave blood they found a vacant lot full of fruit trees, climbed the fence and picked two plastic containers full of mulberries. Fat, ripe, dark, delicious mulberries. They brought one to me and I made mulberry and white pepper syrup for ice cream. You should taste it! Sweet, toffee syrup with a subtle bitey after-taste. And dark as dried blood.

We are planning the move back to Sydney earlier than I thought. Marnie and Phoebe are ready to go, to start their adult lives and throw themselves into the inner-west of sin city.

And I am not sure if I can learn much more from here. Or if I am willing to let the chance slip by of moving to Sydney with Marnie.

Anxiety. Unsure of when and how and if I'll be ok. Sure that this time I MUST cope. I MUST be strong and live right. I MUST build happiness again. A life of sunshine and creativity, of feeling strong and positive. Of COPING by myself. Of POSSIBILITIES ; for success, for love. For love again?

I never wondered before this point in my life if love was beyond me. I never really wondered if my soul was dead, or crippled. A leaf withering, drying out, turning slowly to skeleton, undisturbed, unnoticed.

But now I care. I feel fear because I care.

--------

Hetero-phobia

2006-09-29T02:09:00.000+10:00

Yes, I admit it. I'm heterophobic. Phobic denoting fear. Not of heterosexuals, but of heterosexuality. It suited me not to have to contend with issues of gender normality. Gender tradition. It's been convenient that my relationships till now have not been bogged-down by the thousand years history of supposed female submission and male violence. It suited me not to have to contend too closely with the sensetivities that hetero-normative socialisation impresses on even the most left-wing/progressive boys. Yes, I had to contend with it in life, but it had been a while since I've had to contend with it in the bedroom, and in an intimate setting.

I can no longer choose to just dismiss these issues, to theorise them right out of my life and leave their navigations up to others. Love may well come to me in a form tainted by the scourges of masculine ego, corrupted by masculine pride and pride-driven violence.

Consider Romeo and Juliet. The boys are always fighting, out of a sense of pride. They express their grief and anger with violence, and work to a shedule of rules of honour and principle. Being a pragmatist I do not support violence in the name of honour. Action, yes, but not violence, unless it is very carefully executed and not allowed to get out of control.

But, the actions of the boys doesn't bother me nearly as much as the separation between girls and boys. The assumption that females are outside of the order of honour and principle, cannot understand violence or pride, and are submissive and passive by nature. A society where this distinction is not artifically enforced, and where the "nature" of each sex is not reified and naturalised, is a society where communication and compromise can determine action.

Bascially, I don't accept that "boys will be boys" and girls will keep them in line.

But if I am going to date boys, then this is a historical hangover that I'm going to have to deal with in very personal contexts. I hope that I can work on/deal with my "heterophobia", and potential partner's masculinity with patience and sensetivity, rather than ex-student politics, articulate feminist rail-roading.

I suppose the secret is shutting up and listening for long enough to allow a dialogue. That tends to be the course of action I most need to take, and most often fail to.

Hmmmmmm. PS: Boys can be so cute! Hot, even!

Hooked on Love

2006-09-26T19:27:00.001+10:00

I've done it again. Thrown myself into a feeling. Wriggled my way into the beautiful fucked up heart of another inappropriate but irresistable freak. Life was going so well, and it still is, but I took a holiday from it. Spent a few days in someone else's world. And fell in lust and longing with A. An artist, a junkie, a ratbag, gentle, damaged and yet brilliant, funny, talented, aching to learn and love, caught up in a rollercoaster ride of trying to be happy, trying to find a way to live that can hold him, can keep him stable...

I know now that this is a drug for me, and more than any other it is my drug of choice. I see the beauty in people, and I want to be close to them. I love the thrill of breaking down the barriers and sharing a connnection - even if it's just for a short time. I love it. I crave it. I will "pay" for it. I sacrifice myself for it, I will chase it and seek it. I will take all that I can, and give as much of myself as they will receive, and then when I have to go home, to let it go, I will mourn it, I will comedown from it so hard that I can't sit still! I can't breath, I feel lost and hungry, like I am dying or starving. My life at home looks dull, TV seems dead, food's lost it's flavour, and all I want is him. To be raging through the world together, laughing, crying. To show him my life, and make him happy.

But I have gained valuable insight from my relationship with Josh. I now know that my own safety is important. I know that own soul must be fed first, that I must be stable and safe, or a love is not worthwhile and is doomed to fail. I know that only when I am happy in my own life and moving in the right direction can I express the beauty and energy that makes people fall in love with me. And I know that I don't want to ever be made to feel insecure again, I'm better than that.

So now that I can see it as a drug, I can control my relationship to it. Yes, Ill fall off the wagon sometimes. I'l let myself slide into the arms of some or other lostboy, I'll outstay my welcome, stray from my path, and let myself down in the pursuit of love. But I'll get back up, and this time, I'll not lose myself. I'll never fool myself into thinking I want to live that crazy life. I'll not lose sight of my path this time. My focus, my task to complete.

I have a thesis to write. One day love will come at a time, and in a form that doesn't pose a threat to my well-being. In the meantime, I'll try to cope with the cravings, stay healthy, enjoy the occasional romp with my one true weakness, and try to get by.

The future! Fuck! What does it hold? More pertinantly, what do I want to it look like???

IPOD

2006-09-25T20:28:00.000+10:00

J and My New IPOD!

God! The journey I have taken. So far from myself, and back again. Into the fire, and out half-burned, limping, haunted by shadows. I loved him. I really did. A wild and untameable thing. And the difference even he acknowledges, is that I never wanted to tame him. Other’s wanted J, wanted to possess him, tame him, understand him, change him. Make him stay. Make him truthful. I knew always that he was a liar, a thief and an opportunist. The way he lived his life was interesting and beautiful to me. A child shut out from love and normal human touches, who had bred his own love of the world, his own set of childish rules and beliefs. An idealist with big dreams, big hopes that mostly somehow got lost down the barrel of a tina pipe. Together we were something. Really something. A team. Fabulous. Meaningful. Real.

A life of chance and excitement. Something new around every corner. The love was always real, he feelings were always real – and as beautiful and pure as a child’s, with a child’s idealism. And he navigated the gutter better than anyone. Truly the Girl From The Gutter, GFTG, I take my hat off to you. You have survived. You have stolen, betrayed, lied and deceived, to try and be happy, to procure love and care. To look after yourself. The only way you know. In the mess and danger of the scene, the only mother you have.

But J can handle that life. It is the life he knows. A life of uncertainty and opportunity. Can we really blame him for not wanting to look back and see the mess he leaves? (He never meant to… He doesn’t know what to do, so he denies, tries to forget…) For not understanding how to care for others, when no one ever cared for him?

Yes, I suppose we can. The only way to be a man is take responsibility for your past. He wants to be a man. He wanted to be a man. He took me to the casino, in a suit and tie, after caberet – I wore a pretty dress and feathers. We could pretend for just a while. And it was poetry. J was poetry. And I did love him. And I have set him free.

And set myself free.

Listening to Decoder Ring!
On my new hot pink IPOD! Given to me by Charlie (Marnie’s boyfriend) and Marnie, and the universe – from whence it sprang. I paid my respects – flushed a thank you note down the toilet.

House! House House!

2006-09-13T22:21:00.000+10:00

And NCIS. I know this is a silly thing to post about, but too bad! Tonight's episode of House was incredible! Amazing! Fabulous. OMG! I love House!

In other news, my birthday celebration will be on Friday 29th Sep. Dinner at my place in Wollongong. I hope that some of my friends in Sydney will make the trip down, and that way they'll get to see my place. People can get the train down together and eat at mine, then we'll hang out for a bit, get ready for Kooky and all catch the train up together.

Then it'll be Kooky, maybe ARQ, or maybe just chill out.

I'll also be going out sunday afternoon and maybe sunday night, but maybe not.

Anyway. Mwa.

PS! My phone comes back on tomorrow. You've got the old number.

PPS! Don't forget the new season of House starts next wednesday!

Throw a Coin

2006-09-05T23:58:00.000+10:00

The Tiffany Eckhardt song expresses the anxieties of a woman who has a new baby and is struggling with her life, her home and her concept of herself. She says

Somebody come and clean my house.
I've fallen behind.
Everything is mounting up.
I don't know what
happens to the time.

Somebody tell me who rules this life.
And am I a good mother? And am I a good wife?

Throw a coin into the fountain for me
I'll sit here where I can see you play.
I know that girl is in here somewhere.
Where, oh where, can she be?

Somebody tell me where did it go?
Time it flows like a river to the sea.
And there's a lady standing here that I don't know.
Don't recognise her at all.

I love you so you know I'm filled to overflow.
And what I'd do without you, God, I don't know.
It's just that somehow I have left myself behind.
Am I really here, or did I disappear?

Somebody come and clean my house.
I've fallen behind.
Everything is mounting up.
I don't know what happens to the time.

Will somebody tell me

Am I a good mother?
Am I a good wife?

Throw a coin into the fountain for me
I'll sit here where I can see you play.
I know that girl is in here somewhere.
Where, oh where, can she be?

They are simple, country lyrics - it is a beautiful and very simple country song - but they express a complex and very common experience. Common, I'd imagine to both women and men, but perhaps more so for women, who often feel as though they lose themselves in marriage or in caring for children.

I find it beautiful and moving.

I have cleaned my room and organised my clothes. Many of them are even on hangers. I have put thesis papers into folders with labelled sections, I have hung all my earrings up on display to make it easier to choose the right pair. I have started a collage on an antique mirror board (the mirror broke!) from a dressing table. It will be of the little match girl. And I have decided that the zine I'm doing will about more than just the Little Match Girl I had become. That will just be one story it tells.

I have so many more stories than that to record. I have so much more to say now that the clouds have cleared. I can see the past year in all its glory and saddness. And best of all, I can laugh.

-0--0--0--

Spring Again!

2006-09-05T01:46:00.000+10:00

Funny how Spring always feels new even though I've already had 25 of them. The feeling is undeniable. I feel alive. A contagious enthusiasm. A feeling of health and well-being. A positivity. I think it is some great earthly and natural physiological chemistry, similar to the effects of drug use on the brain; euphoria, comedown, etc. But because of the relatively long duration of the highs and lows, I cannot use psychology to control my response to these fluctuations.

When I'm feeling low after a big weekend out, I can tell myself "it's chemical, it will pass", but it is much harder to survive the colder months on the mantra "it's Winter, it will pass". I really do feel the Winter deeply.

-----

Marnie and I went to a party in Wollongong on the weekend. It was a fundraiser for a charity, something like "Australian Youth India Program". A friend of Danny and Cara's is going overseas to work with them. Twas a good evening out, but I had the worst hangover the next day!

On Sunday, I got some really cute silver heeled sandals for twenty dollars! So cute!

Writing 2000 words for Melissa for friday meeting, then off to Imperial to do drinks and pool with Liz S, also catching up with Liz P! Yay! And whoever else happens to join up at the pub. Devi should be coming too.

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I don't wanna forget!!!

2006-08-29T21:51:00.000+10:00

I need to record some of the jokes and phrases that we all said on the scene and with friends. Just not to forget...

So here they are, just a few. I hope I've got them right.

Hanging out with Ben and Kayleen:

Want a point? Use your finger!

Want three points? (poke the listener three times with finger) Meh! Meh! Meh!

Want some speed? Follow a racing car!

Want some free drugs? So do I!

What's your point?! About fifty bucks.

Wanna get smashed? Play on the road!

(Please note the preceeding are jokes, and in no way refer to or endorse actual drug use...No. The publishers of this blog distance themselves from all illegal activities. Particularly the really fun and enjoyable ones.)

----------------

I also need to record some more SMS's here, so that they will not be lost forever. These are from Marnie's phone, as mine is out of service at the moment and I am using hers. Mine will be back on in a few weeks, so don't delete my number!!!!

From Sal to me:

Just read your beautiful note, and I am gushing like a famiry-ress geisha. I love you Emma. Unequivocally, unabashedly and unconditionally.

I sent Josh a message talking about the songs we loved and that represented him honestly to me - Outlaw. When the Dawn Breaks. Con Te Petero. (fix) and saying that the music is his real voice. His soul is in it. And I said "the joy was real."

Josh to me in response:

Yes the joy was real. that was truly one of the kindest messages you've sent to me. The real Josh is coming back, better than ever. Love Josh x

Devi to me:

Don't feel alone Emma, because ur not. The universe is asking u 2 re-think previous, unhealthy choices in relation 2 friends and lifestyle. I am 34 and had to move home not so long ago, like the proverbial homing-pigeon. It's ok. Ur ok + you will find inner peace + strength, in time to come. I am not giving up on u. xo

----

Me to Josh:

Yeah, I understand. Running around like a headless chicken can be fun, but it gets lonely when there's lots of friends but no one really knows you.

Josh to me:

Yeah you know what I mean! Bless! When you stayed over and fell asleep cuddling it was warm and good!

----

Me to Josh, later:

I'll return the earrings I took from your bedroom when you contact me next, hon. I was going to wear them to Diva's to remember the feeling of that weekend me and Rohan came to visit. You were always interesting. The lies added nothing, but took away so much.

(The weekend I'm referring to was the first time I went to Josh's house in Hurstville. We arrived and Josh fed us something he had cooked with ham and corn in it. It was delicious. We listended to mucic and played Monopoly, and slept and got up late and went to local shops for chicken and chips. It was so hot! We ran around the park and drenched each other in water from the tap and bubblers. It was so fun! And my thongs kept sliding off! And I felt young and pretty and full of life. I don't know why, but that day will always be with me.)

So will the day that we went to Monday dayclub and had the best time ever. We had been hanging out at Tommy's place and Ben and I were talking up a storm and laughing so bloody hard. And then we went and danced and danced and danced! And it was to songs like Watching You (Rogue Traders) and Never Say Never.

I danced so hard and so fast and did so many silly funny moves and actions with Ben. So much fun. Fit to burst with love and fun. I remember affectionately dancing around the pool table - round and round it - chasing each other and pretending not to. And standing on the tiered podiums, all in a row doing Josh's "Butt-fucking" dance move. And the time I acidently kicked Brian in the nuts! It really was an accident, I got excited when we were dancing opposite each other and I automaticaly threw in a kick, which went straight up between his legs.

Good times. Such good times. And with this distance I can learn to appreciate it again. Like Sydney - my one true love (where taking a break, but we will be together once again, oh, yes, together forever). It's all coming back. And it makes me smile. A real happiness.

Listening to Tiffany Eckhardt "Throw a Coin". And the Sundays "Can't be Sure".

Haunting Resonances

2006-08-27T03:58:00.000+10:00

The journey into the heart of the scene. Into the centre:

The edges are frayed and fabulous! It seems a world that can only shine. Just avert your eyes from the ugly, the sad, the desperate. And the lost. They are not us. That is not now. Right now we are Kings. Gods. We sparkle. We feel alive.

Deeper in and more complex. Its patterns fascinate. Its stories captivate. Its many poetic scenes burn themselves into memory. Before long we are caught up in the flow. Moving faster and faster, time blurring, words combining. "Which time was that again?" "Who was it that said that, and where again?" "Were you there that night?" "Was that before or after ...such and such...?" "Have I met you?" "Don't you remember me...?"

You fall in love. With the centre of the scene. A bright, loyal passion. For the nightlife and its pace. For the music and the dancefloors, and the humour and the ironies. And it could contain you? It could hold you. If you could get there...

But the lights flash fast and constant. Smoke-machines obscure and augment. Optical illusions. Optical stimulus. The music pervades. The music triumphs. The music connects us, the music separates us - it is a paradox. As are the drugs - a shared transgression, a personal experience. The club a complex machine, cogs in harmony and grating discord. A complex machine designed to make you feel fabulous. To "sustain the illusion of fabulousness for a few hours till you stumble out into the sun and return to your normal boring(sic) everyday life." (Gavin)

So, walk into the centre. The heart of the scene. Come down to its crux, its core, you'll find - if your eyes are open - it is empty.

The centre is empty.

A haunting resonance.

C used to work with Fiona Mc! Long ago at the Oxford/Gilligans(?). It resounds, and I wonder that it took this long for us to discuss that. So many things blind us, deafen us, pull us in unconstructive directions. Can we put ourselves back on the path of our own choosing?

DN reached out and I wanted to understand. Not what she was saying, but what emotions she was hiding just beneath the surface. I wanted to empathise. But I couldn't find the hurt to sooth, or the doubt the dispell. I couldn't read between the lines. But JN could, and he noticed. And he listened. And he understood. And he explained to me in just a few careful, heartfelt words, what may have taken me much longer to translate. Thank you.

traffic (from Chemical Palace) flows like a tide carried by drugs and fun and hard work from the edges to the centre of the scene. Tired, empty, lonely, fragile, she emerges. The tide goes out. The storm washes away. She is left with the scars and trinkets, and a few friends still to say hello to. Galvanised. She is stronger, complicated, re-inforced, wiser, calmer - and haunted by the spectre of nostalgia.

Nothing makes you sad like the memory of being happy.

A haunting resonance. I try to come to terms with the ending of things. The fear of the blank page. The fear of being alone. Of nothing being ahead. Of never getting back to a feeling of newness and life and wonder.

Sometimes I am crushed under this nostalgia.

But Sal says I am never blank. Sal remembers life in full colour.

I think I am still learning even faster now.

Last shift for a while. I look like a China Doll. In leather, and diamontes.

I'm still me.

Plans, Ideas and Inspirations

2006-08-14T20:29:00.000+10:00

Hey readers, how are ya? (not sure if anyone still really reads this blog, but if you do, hey, I hope you are well... not that I write it for anyone, really. I have all the entries emailed to me and I archive them, so this is really a diary and a reference for the future.)

Anyway. Back to my post.

This weekend was good. Really nice. Devi came back to Sydney! Danced and hang out with Clinton at Man Bangle. Me and Sal ran into her in the arvo and we all sat for a while talking theory and literature and life. I saw Daniel and watched a little TV, hang out with Sal for a bit, and had an excellent day at work on Saturday.

On saturday evening, I took the chance to invite Clinton out for a drink and we compared scars and got to know each other a bit better. I understand now why Devi says that Clinton is lovely - he really is!

Devi took me to a nice party in Redfern, where we ran into the bathroom like giggling school girls and got really racey! The rest is history... Not all good. My disco biscuit wasn't great. In fact, I'll definatly avoid or be very careful with them in future. I really enjoyed hanging with Devi and the boys, and a highlight was hanging with Devi in the morning. Like a star she luxuriated on the benches and chatted with me about life and love and everything while I cut the fruit.

It's a shame that I have only got to know Clinton a little bit and now he's leaving, but - just like Devi - maybe we will cross paths again in the future and impact each other's lives in a good way. You never know.

Ideas I have:

I have just joined the bifusion egroup to get involved (hopefully) in the performance workshops they are holding.

I am almost ready to put together and copy my Little Match Girl zine - which I will give to everyone who has known me through this shadowy time - then I will put it on the shelf and move on with my life to Brighter Days!

I really wanna get laid! Or go dating or meet someone or something. What's a girl to do? I'm really really really out of practise!

Spring is in the air and the party season is about to start!

Woo hoo!

Not Good Enough

2006-08-06T16:14:00.000+10:00

Deciding that I am worth more than the life I have come to live.

It's not horrible, or anything, but it's not the path I had put myself on.

I got off track, I went onto another rail, heading to a differnt place. A place that I have never seen, and never wanted to go.

I pushed myself towards Josh in the gutter, while he was yearning to get out. I've had my time in the life of craziness, I've done deals, made ends meet, wasted my time, money, energy on dead end activity, roads that lead nowhere.

I took a holiday from myself, but I have come home, and my home is dusty, neglected, and needs work. Not just superficial fixing, a coat of paint, a new hair cut, but structural renovation. I'm unsound, unstable. I've forgotten how to be me, what I wanted, where I was going. I've disappointed myself and others.

Not good enough.

I want to paint a picture, or do a sculpture of a little match girl, 'cos that's what I have become.

I want to make a new zine.

Tina, Turkey, Features and Sal

2006-07-24T05:29:00.000+10:00

That about sums up my Sydney life at the moment. Well, that and Manacle, of course. Work's been great. Fun and busy. Vibrant crowds without too much trouble. Many a friend popping in, smiles and winks and sillly gestures, cheeky banter; hugs to remind me that I have skin, and skin loves to be touched.

Sal has been a companion. A comrade. A partner in crime and in various ventures, and our friendship deepens slowly with the spending of time together. We see that our values intercept. We treat each other as we'd like to be treated. And there is comfort in support and company - that comes loaded with invisible treasures, and light on judgement.

In times that I have been stupid, lost all my money, depressed and broke, a mountain of debts ahead, and me just a few steps up it, I have turned to Sal and said "This is rock bottom, No cash, no cigarettes, I am so sorry." But Sal, only Sal turned to me and said what mattered: That none of that defined me. This is a just a time of life. I know who I am, and I will grow stronger in that day by day. Money is nothing. My life and my soul are moving forward. My spirit is alive and well beneath the heartache and bad habits. I can laugh and dance and be happy with nothing. Because I have it all in me already.

Life at home is calmer and the mountain of debts shrinks every fortnight. I am getting somewhere! Really getting somewhere!

Thesis six week plan next. And for now - weekends in Sydney. Self-funding orgies of hard-work, mending hurts and estrangements, learning to control the beast, and enjoy the music. Domestic bliss in the gong. Chemical Palace. Melissa Hardie. Debt repayments and family life.

Then there's the summer to look forward to!!!!!!!!!

The Gong

2006-06-30T00:07:00.000+10:00

So I've moved to "The Gong". The idea of living outside Sydney has horrified me for at least six years. Except for short stints for research or temporary teaching positions ( a year or two) overseas in other major cities, I never imagined myself choosing to live outside Sydney again. For the rest of my life. Sydney is home. Not just Sydney - the inner city.

But sometimes home becomes a wasteland. Normal life becomes stressful and causes you anxiety. Bad habbits become ingrained and impossible to break without a major overhaul. There's not *one thing* that can be cited as *the problem*. No individual thing can be blamed. So no individual thing can be fixed. I have become stuck in a rut. A life that seems alright on paper but is not making me happy at all.

I tried to get my mum to move to Sydney, thinking that it would ease the burden on us both financially, on her in terms of Marnie, and ease the isolation I felt since Josh was not around so much. But mum has plans of her own (to go to TAFE and work towards getting into Nursing) and moving back to Sydney does not suit her at all. And fair enough. But that left me feeling down.

I was in a rut. Feeling low. Isolated and lonely. Lacking motivation to do my thesis. And wanting the support and company that a family environment provides. (Well, that my family does anyway.) I get along very well with mum and the rest of my family, and deep down I was getting the feeling that I was a girl who really just needed her mum.

I don't know why after being independant for eight years, a person can suddenly need support, but there it is. And there I was. Admitting it and deciding to do something about it was the first positive step I'd taken in a while, and I felt better immediately.

The Gong seems ok. There's plenty of shops and restaurants, and places to go for coffee or a drink, there's movies, and pubs I may try to get a job at, there's a beach I haven't seen yet, my brother Danny and his GF Cara live on our street! And the flat feels like home already. So cosy, and my stuff fits really well in my room. I am ready to set up my study area.

I am still working at Manacle and may be for some time, so figuring out exactly how visits to Sydney are going to work is still an issue. I hope I get enough hours to make it worth the travel and expenses of being away from home. I am at Dave's tonight, so we'll see how that goes also. He's got internet and I can't get off it tonight!

So, anyway. Need a break from Sydney?! Come visit me in The Gong! I'll show you a good time - I promise!

--------

Happiness

2006-06-21T01:06:00.000+10:00

A cloud has lifted. I cannot - nay - do not want to name it. I analyse way too much. This time I will simply enjoy this feeling. I know it well. An old friend returning. An old energy rebuilding. A smile to start the day. Feeling comfortable inside myself. Feeling positive. In control.

In high school, at home, I remember feeling this way. Woops, I've just figured it out despite my determination not to. I FEEL SAFE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A LONG TIME.

I feel safe and warm.

I think this is generally known as contentment, and happiness is what people associate with being in love, getting a promotion or winning the lottery. But I have always maintained that contentment IS happiness, and I always will.

The next level up is joy.

------------

Annonymous graffiti near my house on Hordern St, in Newtown circa 2003 said:

"All I want is a penis. Woops! I mean happiness."

He he he. Ha ha ha. I'd better get back to my packing now... No, not THAT kind of packing! I'm not that kind of girl. Packing boxes, I mean... No, not like that! I give up...!

------------

Rumours...

2006-06-19T00:56:00.000+10:00

This would have been a heart-broken rant if I had got around to posting last weekend when the feelings were new and the wounds were fresh, but now who has time for that?!

I am moving in about five days. To Wollongong.

That rumour is true.

Untrue rumours have spread around the scene like a virus for a couple of weeks, seeding from a genuine stupid thing I did on Inquisition weekend. Having been entrusted with a friend's keycard to withdraw money he owed me that I needed, I - upon losing the money and not knowing what to do - withdrew the amount again. I felt terrible and stupid and embarrassed, and couldn't explain all that through the loud music at stage 11. Let's face it, I wasn't ready to explain it. So i lied. I said the teller had fucked up, but promised to repay the amount ($50) before the next day. I did repay it, after borrowing from a very kind friend - thanks baby. But the seeds were sown. The seeds of doubt.

And I fear that my stupid white lie may have cost me a friendship I enjoyed.

In the meantime, it has come back to me through the blessed Oxford St scene grape-vine that I am an atm card theif. That I stole $100 from a friend. That I'm an unashamed pokies addict. That I stole from Leather Pride. That I was stealing from work. And that I have, in general, fallen from Grace.

None of these are true. Aside from the fall from Grace, but everyone who knows me knows I didn't fall, I lept. I jumped off my pedastal, holding hands with Brian when we clinked shot glasses, linked arms and threw back our first mil of g.

The road to here has been amazing. A ride of fun, meaning, lessons, humility, humanity, sensuality, music and fabulous drugs - some pretty shit ones too! But now I am leaving Sydney - for the first time in about 12 years.

I am going to seek shelter, support, comfort, quietness and family in Wollongong with Marnie and mum. To get out of debt, pay off credit card, take less drugs and HOPEFULLY get re-inspired and get to work on my thesis.

So, there you go. Little Miss Can't Be Wrong did something wrong and felt the full brunt of the rumour mill crushing for a couple of weeks. And it hurt and I cried, but it was nothing compared to how much letting go of Josh hurt. I am duck and their callous words are water off my back. So, it's raining?! Go dance in it! Life gives you lemons, cut them into wedges and serve with pancakes.

Wow. Life is so life-like. Oh, yeah. A piece of universal advice - maybe even an appeal. If you hear a rumour about someone you care about, confront them on it. Let them tell their story. Eveyone wants to be understood.

---------

The Sun Also Rises

2006-05-30T22:05:00.000+10:00

It is just as I tell others. The truth that I know intellectually has now shown itself in my life. After a break up, a major change, a loss... There is grieving. A mourning period. It feels cold, it feels desperate. The emptiness feels unbarable.

but

Time and the living of days eases the pain, cools the desperation, slows your broken speed-beating heart. I am getting better. I've stopped missing him like water. I've stopped feeling like there was no one else that mattered, as if the world was cold and empty but for him. I've begun to get close to other people again, to spend time with other poeple. I've been filling my time and the world feels a little brighter.

I've begun to control my pokies habit so I am not losing money in large amounts, and not using it as a way to deal with hurt and disappointment. I've applied for a job at Redfern RSL, and am putting in resumes at all the local pubs, and so will soon hopefully have a second job - helping to get me out of debt in the next few months.

I'm not all the way there - still spending money on pokies, still feeling lonely sometimes, still missing josh a bit, but getting over him, still not studying enough - but all these things are getting better.

Fear rises up in your stomach, pain and hurt rises up in your throat. I've wandered the city in empty desperation, but the sun also rises. And each day gets easier. Each week gets better. I am getting stronger again. I am taking control of me again.

So, yeah! As Sal would say, "Get your cock out!"

G Line

2006-05-17T20:05:00.000+10:00

Hi. This post is about my life. About Josh's life. The lives of all my close people. This post is about cricis and happiness. This post is about cries for help.

A good friend overdosed today. On purpose.

Do I think he wanted to die? No. I think he wanted to fall down and not get back up for a bit. I think he wanted to become a child for a bit. To be cared for and allowed rest. To stop making decisions. To sleep.

We left him in the hospital with a note telling him we love him. We got his phone and wallet from his own home so we could help stop him from walking back into the middle of a cricis. He needs to stay broken up with his partner and start afresh. He needs to let the icy winds of fear (the fear of being alone) change to cool winds of newness. A life of his own. A heart becoming open again.

We must all find the things that are unhealthy for us and minimise them or eliminate them from our live - even if we love them, and mostly we do. That is the hard thing.

Also, we must find the things that are healthy. The things that make us happy - like genuinely happy. The things and the people that give us strength and teach us things.

And make them our lives.

Can we do it?

Can I do it?

Tomorrow I need to call G line. Or at least see if there's an online information site. I've fallen far enough into cricis and it's time I started going forward again. Before I end up losing something important.

*****

Making the Links!

2006-05-06T19:08:00.000+10:00

Hi everyone! Guess what? Can't guess?! Well, I updated my links list!!!!

I added Rohan's, Josh's, Jen's, my brother Danny's, my very lovely friend Ben's and my sister Marnie's blogs to the list! They are all worth a look. Jen's and Josh's are very new and so there's not heaps to read but watch this space and comment on them and hopefully they'll get into the swing of things!

Plans for the future:

*** Phase out Manacle - slowly and in a way that provides continued support to the venue, as well as meeting my need for a less involving (more casual) casual job.

*** Get another bar job (hopefully mostly during the week) and pay off debts.

*** Contact Red Cross/ACON etc and look into volunteering or working in drug safety training, making material, etc, etc....

*** Start yoga with Marnie on monday, tuesday or wednesday night each week.

*** Visit mum more - get out of the city!

There's more but I forget.

Love youse.

miss *e

The Queen of SMS

2006-05-05T13:18:00.000+10:00

People lose their phones and many things are lost. The pictures. The phone numbers of people that they may not see again for a long time. The sms's - these are the things that matter. The things you cannot replace. I am going to put them all here, so that I can longer fear the loss of my phone.

And also to mark the passing of an era. I am not saying goodbye to all these people. Nor has the love died. But I am growing now, and must begin a new way of living. Stronger. More independant. I must be the river, not just a reed.

Herein lies the joy and the very best of my love for friends - especially my love for Josh. And here lies a map of my life in the last few months - and stretching back so far. Here lies fun and happiness and sadness and jokes. Thank you my dearests for the words. The words. The words.

I hope I do not offend anyone by sharing these words. There is much missing also, but I thnak God for what I have salvaged.

miss *e

1st Installment - Jorja, Brian, the beginnings of Josh

29/7/2003
Jorja to me

i am besotted by you

11/9/2003
Jorja to me

you are too sweet to me.
thank you for looking after me today babee.
i really liked hanging out with you,
and talking with you and you relaxing into me...

24/9/2003
Jorja to me

i am too. That'll be the downside of being a lady I suppose...
i missed touching your beautiful body and I missed kissing you,
as well as missing you emotionally and missing our conversations.
But to say that this morning 'fuc I missed you' might not have
sounded so good perhaps... hmm. but space and time for us
alone would be really nice.

24/12/2003
Me to Jorja - Christmas Eve 2003

Trying to sleep. Fading now a little drunk into sleep.
Liam playing guittar in the lounge. Dad having a joint.
I miss your hot body beside me. I miss your tiny kisses.
Many kisses. Love.

1/1/2005 - New Years 2004/05
Jorja to me

Happy new year babee! I love you so much... My girl
and my mistress. I only have eyes for you... but those
f b b dancers! I love you

(*fat bottomed burlesque dancers - at Kooky)

8/10/2005
Luke Tilbrook to me

remember; box is like a life of chocolates,
u never get what you gonna know

and later

don't small the sweat stuff. a stitch in nine spoils two chefs in the bush.

26/10/2005 - living in redfern now
Brian Hart to me

Yeah your not bad pretty hot not my type though unless hmmmm
how big's ya strap on

30/10/2005 - the night i got arrested
Brian to me

hey sweetheart hugs are waiting we're here for you call me when you can.
we can't see or talk to you just me at d's mwa mwa mwa mwa

(*at Daniel's old place on Goulburn St (?))

3/11/2005
Joshua Petranker to me

Babe how are you? I feel that you hiding something. u can always talk with me
without having the worry I'll judge you. you'll always have my ears to listen,
and my tongue and mouth for advice. & me in person as a friend who is there
for you direct from the gutter. LOL. love always Josh think of me and smile.

6/11/2005
Brian to me

Only if you start with your fist and finish with your feet both of them

10/12/2005
Chris Percival to me

It was so nice to have you over again. Needless to say it was lovely to
meet Daniel properly too. I look forward to dinner on tuesday. Thank you babe!
You have really lightened things up for me over the last week.
Love you lots. xoxox

23/12/2005
Josh to me and friends

To all my friends, I find it hard to think of what to say, so i'll let my
heart talk, i love all of you, even if i've not shown it, i with you a
Merry Christmas , and a happy and healthy new year, let the new year be
full of love. Love always Josh xxx

24/12/2005 - Christmas eve
Brian to me

(I drove the ride-on lawn-mower and told Brian that I did)

That would be right always trying to ride something or playing with the field
cutting someones grass arn't we, you little peanut m&m. had a very productive day,
actually put some thought into presents this year, Josh and mwah spend the arvo
at Paddo markets got heaps of nice giftwaz for all my family inc relos. oh and
got myself nice shirt and shorts yay! what's you been up too in the land of
chesse hmmmm luv ya beautiful have a good chrissy!

27/12/2005
Brian to me

Hurry up and get your sexyself back to down to camp reality. Cheese town
don't love you like we do! mwa mwa mwa

1/1/2006 - New Years 2005/06
EXACTLY AT MIDNIGHT!!!!
Marnie to me

Its pimpin' time!

1/1/2006
Brian to me and friends

beautiful princes, princesses, fairy's & queens. all the best for the
new year, your hopes & your dreams. Bhappy Bproud, true to yourself,
but not to much tine, she's bad 4your health! B wise, hot sexy,
honast & sweet, even kind 2the beggars on old oxford st, not sleazy,
scanky, don't act like a tramp! Darls if in doubt, just turn up the camp!
HAPPY NEW YEAR MWA!

-------- that's all I can type now. There many more and they will come in the next post. Most of the josh and me ones are in the next post. We're only half way!

stay strong my friends. I know I am trying to. Love you all. Em

tears

2006-05-01T02:31:00.000+10:00

i feel kind of resentful that my last few posts are having to be sad. see the thing is, i am also going through a great many happy times and very positive experiences right now. today was the best day I've had at work in ages, and my sister stayed with me the weekend, which was a comfort and an inspiration.

i danced behind the bar again today, because I realised that it was a good thing - for me, for the customers, and for the club. i felt good. i felt alive. i felt hope. there was talking about the "g cricis" (sic), and people really beginning a dialogue about it - customers and/with staff. Progress!

but i have talked about this stuff all day and i am home alone now - quiet. tired. exhausted. worried about my bitch. broke. etc. etc. winge winge.

anyway

i just wanted to say that i cried and i put my hands over my face and when i brought them away again, there was a big fat tear on the tip of my finger, which slid down.

it looked like my fingertip was crying.

at this moment - every millimetre of my skin could shed a tear for the absense of josh's hands.

how can my life be so full, but in this moment feel so empty?

(sic)

Home Alone

2006-04-24T22:06:00.000+10:00

I find tonight that I am home alone. But I am not alone. Myself is there, my selves are there, making noise, protesting, sometimes on the edge of meltdown, sometimes wise and peaceful like an old soul. I want to get drunk and cry like a fool. Let it all go, the shame and fear, the feeling of being ignoble, the loss of pride that is supposed to signify a fall. Have I fallen? Is this rock bottom, or does the rock go much much deeper down?

You know what's changed? I have learned the desire to be alone. To disappear. To simply discontinue existing for a while. Taking comfort in the pressing of buttons. Drinking Wild Turkey, eating re-heated pizza from Dominos. Fourty dollars lost in a trip to get coke and cigarettes.

My skin scratched and marked by love and intensity. My angels of shame and delight at war with each other. Sometimes fighting, sometimes fucking - passionate fear, tender secrets.

But what do I think? What do I really think? Me, not anyone else. Not for anyone else's approval, or to keep up the appearance of a girl. The "strong one".

I really think I am the strong one. But for God sake, don't make me be! Cuddle me now. Give me softness and light. Give me forgiveness. Help me to forgive myself.

------

Listening to - Breath Me, by SIA.

Thinking of Josh, of me, of Marnie, and of Mum. Of Jen and Brian and even Wade. Of Jamie, Maz, Wassim, The Queen of The Nile, The Girl From the Gutter, The Princess of Faggots, The Twins. The vortex of Arq. The flat, sinking feeling of playing pokies on g. The day to come tomorrow. A big day at work!

Will the Wild Turkey please sing me to sleep now?

Yeah... That's the stuff!

------ Here is one internet versin of the lyrics of Heartbeats - mentioned in the previous blog post.

Song lyrics

HeartBeats - The Knife

One night to be confused
One night to speed up truth
We had a promise made
Four hands and then away
Both under influence
We had divine scent
To know what to say
Mind is a razorblade

To call for hands of above, to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough for me, no

One night of magic rush
The start: a simpel touch
One night to push and scream
And then relief
Ten days of perfect tunes
The colours red and blue
We had a promise made
We were in love

To call for hands of above, to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough for me, no

To call for hands of above, to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough

And you
You knew the hand of a devil
And you
Kept us awake with wolves teeth
Sharing different heartbeats in one night

To call for hands of above, to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough for me, no

To call for hands of above, to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough

Looking up?!

2006-04-21T23:50:00.000+10:00

Well since I wrote that post on Josh's birthday, I've had a couple of days at home, basically alone, working on my thesis. I went from sitting on the balcony, knowing what I had to do, deadline looming for the coming wednesday, ready to pack it all in. I felt a complete lack of inspiration, as if I no longer wanted to do the project at all. I thought about quitting for a little while and the other options for my life. I tried to get excited about Menippean Satire and the idea of break-down and decay and modernism, but I could not. The whole project just seemed too big, and I felt like an imposter, as if I had left it too late after all to make a comeback.

Then I sat down in front of the computer again and typed

My passions are – the city and book. The drugs and the book. Drugs as a feature of Australian Literature? Disease and the book. HIV AIDS as a feature of Australian Literature. The ghetto. Poverty. Camp. Performance. Disease. Sydney. Dance.

And I remembered why I am doing this project. My focus came back emotionally. Well, two days later and one trip to the library (I need to make another very soon...), I had solidified my sources to the point where I could make a real start on this intro. I went from having only about three maybe references, to already having six or seven definite texts to use, and having begun reviewing three of them in detail.

Friday night, and I am not working tomorrow, so I got a point and have put in the most focussed and productive three hours or so, so far. I am now about half way through the intro words-wise, but much more as I have now given the thesis a structure.

Anyway, just thought I'd update, so people could see that it is not all doom and gloom in my life. Not at all.

Josh came over this evening too and has been watching King Kong while I study. It's nice that we can do that. There's a peace between us that was not there before.

Onwards and upwards!

Money lost in poikies since last post - $13

Listening to: Brighter Days - by Dajae. Still looking for a really mix.

And favourite song right now: Heartbeats (Rex The Dog Remix) - by Knife. Off Ministry of Sound Clubbers Guide to 2006. Download it now!

The Queen Of Denial?

2006-04-17T23:26:00.000+10:00

No one told me there were more walls than just one. I thought I hit the wall at Mardi Gras - a wall called Tina, a wall called Gina? So I changed my behaviour my habits somewhat, and have had some success. Then The Time of Significance came upon my life. As if to test me/punish me/something life threw five Significant events at me in a row. And I gobbled them up. Stefan/Jen. Devi/myself. Marnie/mum/myself. Jamie. And finally Girl From The Gutter's birthday. All songs in the key of Josh - love lust life "and the flowers of deep feeling".

I must admit - I've been stumped. I've hit another wall without even feeling it. I always hated pokies, never played them at all, but the last few weeks have played them probably 7-8 times a week. Have probably lost in total about $150 although its impossible to know really. Have had a few nice wins, but mostly its a treadmill - up, down, up. Maybe up up up for a bit, then down down down till you give up or really need to go to the toilet. I'd rather spend my money irresponsibly on drugs than give it to the government in unoffical taxes. And yet they have been providing me with something. Not a good thing, not what I need, but something none the less. And underneath it lies an answer to what's wrong in my life.

I haven't been playing pokies because I want to win. I've been playing them to be alone. To have some time, and something that is just mine. But it is a poor substitute for a meaningful passtime. I cannot fool myself emotionally into feeling satisfaction in the fact that I've just won sixty dollars off five, betting only twenty cents a hit.

Satisfaction is in the development and use of skills and knowledge. Life is learning as Josh would say.

Girl From the Gutter has delighted me and stripped me bare. The passion we share can be too strong for either of us to look at head on. Like an eclipse, the strength of passion, of connection, of feeling blinds us and we have to look away.

Tonight Che tried to wake me up. Tried to make me understand that I am letting parts of me die - or at least falter. He is right. He is wrong. He is right but saying it all wrong. He is barking up the wrong tree - I am asleep in the treehouse at the top of the tree of self-avoidance, not self-destruction. I am killing myself inside slowly, just watching myself die-down - from a flame to a flicker.

I am not in danger of killing myself - just of becoming average, washed-out, pale, hollow. Yes, sometimes I do feel empty. But I am not.

I love you Josh. My soul to you. My heart to you. Sometimes we are each other. You are me and I have become you. My love for you crosses time and space into the rhelm of music, or even just sound; deeper inarticulate utterance. Sounds - tribal and harmonious, euphoric and light. Light shines from me to you, and the light within you grows and flickers and burns and sparkles.

Can I love myself as much as I love you? I'm not sure. But perhaps I can - because you, better than anyone, can teach me.

Girl From the Gutter - this is your birthday. Happy birthday! You deserve every happiness that comes your way, and (even more) the ones you go after. Be proud of yourself, and (just a little bit) remember to live with purpose, not just accidently. Don't be a reed, be the river.

You are a magical dancer - joyous and wild. A loyal friend. A gentleman. An idealist. A cynic. A charmer, a looker. A bit of alright. A lost boy. A healer. One hell of a lover... and you are just the boy next door. The boy from the gutter. The girl from the underworld. A boy-girl-man-queen devil child. I salute you.

And for me? Just me? (Although it feels that there is no me without you, sometimes.)

Love, pride, gambling, danger, exhaustion, emptiness, softness.

Loved. Changed. Tired. Affected. Afraid. Delighted.

I'll probably never get five pyramids again, but who really cares? Do I?

----------

The Long and Short of It

2006-04-10T15:31:00.000+10:00

Right now I am Mr Brightside. No show at the door, no answer on the phone. Jelousy? Maybe? Kinda. Not really. More like the sadness of a viewer, who watches a story unfold on tv - I already know the plot, but I still cry at the sad bits. Or could the story have a twist in its ending? Surprise us all with a simplicity of solution?

The last month and a bit! Stefan's goodbye. Jen's struggle of feeling. Josh's inconsistencies. Josh's growth and tenderness, "omissions" and admissions! Josh's love. Daniel's distence. Devi's strength and anger and fear and courege. Dancing at Mars Lounge - feeling it all at once. Setting me free. Making me strong. Devi's goodbye. Josh's hands. Chafing on my wrists. Long days at work. Jamie's birthday. Friendships growing. Tenderness towards my community. Feeling like a part of a family. Spending too much money. Jorja is leaving for the UK. Marnie's pain. Marnie's bruises. Fear and love so fierce, and tears so heavy.

Marnie's birthday! Excitement at Luna Park. Great photos. My boy, my girl - smoking cigarettes, bumping into laughter, crying with the music. Playing on the swings. Sleeping together. Sleeping alone...

I have had so much pulling at me. One thing after the other. Joy and pain. I am alive.

My thesis introduction is due next friday. Time to get to work.

Calling Marnie!

2006-04-04T07:48:00.000+10:00

Calling Marnie. If you read this, Marnie, please call us. Where are you biatch?

If anyone sees or hears from my sister, Marnie, please call me immediately.

It is tuesday 4th. If anyone heard anything today or since yesterday, call me.

Thank you.

ph. 0423 040 996

Mardi Gras - 2006 - Phoenix Rising

2006-03-07T16:50:00.000+11:00

"During the early 1800's public celebrations of Mardi Gras centered around maskers on foot, in carriages and on horseback. The first documented parade occurred in 1837. Unfortunately, Mardi Gras gained a negative reputation because of violent behavior attributed to maskers during the 1840's and 50's. The situation became so bad that the press began calling for an end to the celebration."

http://www.twilightbridge.com/hobbies/festivals/mardigras/history.htm

My Mardi Gras week is over. Much to my relief. I hit my own wall on Monday and am at home as I begin to write this entry. I am beginning to pick up the pieces. The story of my week is one of joy and pain. Of fun and of stupidity. Of tenderness and danger.

Daniel's birthday weekend/Azure weekend left me, Josh and Daniel all a bit fragile. Some kind of proverbial elastic band of emotion snapped, fights happened, things were said and unsaid, and g was taken in high quantities.

Although sick at Azure and not able to stay that long, I really enjoyed the experience of seeing it and dancing under the sky, the drizzling rain. Dan and Shegeki playing live was the highlight. The smile on Shegeki’s face as the crowd roared in applause was so nice to see. I was touched and so proud of my community in that moment…

Parts of the weekend were beautiful. Love met hurt and anger in a bitter-sweet cocktail, but I fell to emotional lows and forgot to stop and breathe… At the end of the storm, J fled to less complex ground – understandably – but did so in a way that made me wonder if the friendship was over or not.

I had a sinking feeling that softly, and slowly on that Tuesday evening my friendship with Josh had come to its end, and no one was going to be kind enough to tell me. Over the next couple of days I felt relief and pain. I missed the boy, but was glad to have time alone to rest my heart. I ended up at C’s on Thursday night, where Brian also happened to be. So Brian became a confidant, I expressed my fears and angers, and we took g to feel better. I got all my feelings out, and Brian helped me put things into perspective. I went from anger to hurt to forgiveness to a feeling of strength.

I ended up going to Arq that night, thanks to Chris and Brian, and having a marvellous time, well beyond expectations. I saw Sal and John E, and made a kind of peace with J, who I realised I loved – and would always love – beyond fear and hurt.

The weekend of Mardi Gras pushed me beyond my limit. I dropped twice into exhaustion and mankyness. C accidently kicked me in the face and my nose got broken. J picked up A and they kissed at work while I tried to pick up the pieces of myself, and my heart broke and rebuilt itself, over and over…

So many tiny explosions of disappointment in my stomach, in my throat, a taste of shame and self-pity… but it was also Gay Christmas – so I swallowed my burning heartbreak to sooth later, and tooted myself up to keep the dream alive. I worked to find happiness in the awesome healing power of camp.

MARDI GRAS PARADE

I took Marnie and Nancy Boy to see the Mardi Gras parade. It was M’s first MG and first e. She was fabulous! We put M’s rosary beads on Nancy Boy and I said he was a Sister of Perpetual Indulgence – Sister McHussy! Marnie draped a wrist band over him as a sash that said “I love Jesus!” We watched the parade from upstairs at Jen’s place and helped Jen get ready for Mardi Gras – she looked fab!

For me, to watch the madness from a closed-in balcony above was the perfect thing for my somewhat fragile state. The Bears float, The CAAH float, student floats, Amnesty, Leather Pride, SWOP and the venue floats were very inspirational for me to see again. The Furries float was a special favourite of mine…

After that was over and we had hung at Jen’s for a bit, we begun to go home. Issue was, me, Josh, Aaron and Marnie were all together and they all needed a place to stay. After some difficult chats between J and I (emotion running high against exhaustion and the need to feel safe), I took them all home to mine so we could stay together on MG. It was actually very lovely, but I only got 1 hour sleep before the hardest day at work.

Sunday night

Was the hardest night. Exhausted and manky, we decided to go to Kooky as all the other stuff was too expensive, etc. A was still with us and tensions between me and J shot to a high, catching A in the middle and affecting D. The house was traumatised by angry words and drama and, once again, g was a factor making it all come to the surface, blowing it all out of proportion, making J and I sharp to each other. Hedgehogs with their spikes up and sharpened…

Fan-dancing at Stonewall softened me again. The prettiest fan was on the floor for me, like the universe giving me a gift that said “I know you are empty, you are lost, you feel like you are fading into nothing and no one… Take this fan… Remember who you are, remember beauty and grace and the power of movement and fun… Dance and play with strangers… Grow strong… Survive.”

A whirlwind of activity getting ready for pool party. Images mixed up, time a messy continuum, days blend and blur… Shopping with Jen, going to get the pool, digging my nails into my leg on the bus from Bondi, to feel pain, to express love, laughing as the boys blew up the pool at the Service Station and Josh carried it across Flinders St…

I gathered all my toys from each of the parties and got them ready to celebrate the Mardi Gras in my favourite way – a camp out! We bought a little fishing rod and plastic fish to go fishing in the pool, fans and straws with cocktail umbrellas attached. When we got to pool party, they wouldn’t let us fill it due to OhandS rules. Disappointed, but not ready to lay down and die, I set it up, blew up the beach ball from Club Arak, brought out the duckie from Pool Party Palooza no.2 – gingham, put Nancy Boy (from Divas) up on the side to sunbake, played with the mouse and seahorse from Azure, got into bathers and camped it up! Rusty – the sweety – got into the pool with me and played with the beach ball and we did synchronised swimming moves with our legs in the air – it was total camp out!

MY DROP

But the weekend had been long, my heart was weak and battered, so tired from swelling and deflating, bruised, and my body was running on tina alone – I had managed to not have even one meal in three days and an hour’s sleep in four. I was hollow, light, a shell, a cicada, I took less than two mils, but the picture began to blur, the music took over me, came in through my ears to fill me completely, the music of oblivion and exhaustion. My body took over my mind, I lost control, I fell. I gave in, I slept. I died that moment… to rise like a phoenix with a broken wing.

Loved ones poked and prodded to shock me awake. My boys carried me through the crowd to get out of the sun and away from the music. They tell me I screamed. Perhaps I am a fighter…

I woke quickly and begun to recover. They placed me in a chair downstairs and Joelle and I talked as I returned to a fully conscious state. It all came out. The fear, the resentment, the desire. Softly and subtly and with pride because Joelle is a role-model and someone I respect. “Why don’t my friends take care of me… Why didn’t anyone make me eat… Where is my bag… Why did they not bring it to me…”

Joelle reminded me of what I had forgotten. It took a few days to sink in completely, but I understood what she tried to give me – SELF RESPECT. SELF LOVE.

The body heals and the mind forms scars. Emotional tissue becomes calloused, toughened. Sore spots appear, that sting when something touches them. Some parts become stronger, some never quite recover. I died and rose again. I stayed home six days to lick my wounds, nurse my broken nose, and have a break from tina and, as it worked out, a break from Josh. And to think about g, and my relationship to it.

Mardi Gras 2006 will always be the year I hit a wall. The year of sisterhood. The year of the camp fires burning. And the year I was woken up to see the truth – that you must take care of yourself first, and then there’s a chance that we may all sparkle.

A family – somewhat dysfunctional – fed on love and chemicals. Marnie, Jen, Josh, Daniel, Brian, Chris. As well as Rusty, Stefan, Britney, Joelle, Dan Murphy, Aaron – the little man – Manacle, Stonewall, Kooky, Arq… the streets of Darlinghurst covered with trash and smiles, rainbow streamers, a shivering neon feather left behind…

Photo by Josh

Take more time to smell the flowers

2006-02-24T17:30:00.000+11:00

I've been so caught up in the immediate, that I've forgotten the little things, the bigger picture, the backdrop, the details...

There's more to my life right now than the affection that fills my heart with wonder and occasional angst, that touches me, teaches me, changes me as we speak. There's also so much to tell you...

My appartment is windy. There's a special wind in Redfern that seems to blow just here. It always comes up in the afternoons and blows right through the house because I leave my bedroom door open, and the door to my balcony.

I have just had my hair re-done in extensions. They are black and red but only half done. The rest will be done for Mardi Gras.

Last night night I cooked the best lamb I've ever tasted in my life. Daniel and I hosted a dinner for a friend from Manacle - Robert - and his guest, Hany (who works with Daniel). Josh and Daniel did the shopping and picked some fantastic and expensive lamb backstrap. While I had my hair done, Josh marinated the lamb in Moroccan spices as directed. The dinner was pleasant, with wine and chit chat. Daniel and I made a great team. And working with Josh is a pleasure. It's nice to enjoy these evenings that are drug free. I mean really enjoy them together.

Today is Daniel's birthday. His parents came to visit and we were nervous to have the house presentable. He brought them home early and I nearly had a heart attack, not having done many of the things I wanted to before they arrived. It worked out ok. I bought chocolates, cakes and flowers to celebrate, and we had afternoon tea with mud cake, brownies, custard tart, etc. Apparently his parents liked our place and approved of me. Whew!

For Mardi Gras, I have to work, but have got monday off to attend the Pool Party Palooza. I cannot wait! I am going to get an old fashioned swim suit and maybe a little sun tent and bliss out in the water, fun in the sun all day long!

Josh always says "Who's your daddy" and "Whooshit!" when he's getting off his face. It's so cute. And he says crazy things like "Who's your daddy? Your mummy's your daddy..." It's so funny. When he says gross things, he gets digusted at himself and me and Daniel laugh.

Josh and I like pizza - we love the puff base from Dominos.

I snorted pink pill powder off my degree. Silly.

I met my new supervisor at the old Californian cafe, she was hung over and I said "Thank God. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one in the department..." I am very positive for the future now I have some better ideas for the thesis, and a supervisor who knows a lot about queer culture and literature.

Miss S has been arrested and is in Silverwater - it's so hard to know what's going on, what can be belived, if we can talk to her or not, etc.

Rohan broke his foot and had to go back to QLD to get better. Most people close to him and left behind in Sydney agree that it was the best thing for him to take a break and recuperate/save money, etc. I hope that when he comes back he feels more in control of his life, and can find the happiness he deserves.

Nancy Boy is sad to have Rohan gone and I realise that we have been friends a long time now. We are going to go to Mardi Gras together and Radioactive Boy and Radioactive Girl, but that little dream will have to wait. In the meantime, I am still kicking leaves. Meh!

I've taken a liking to icecream. Even chocolate icecream!

We have aquired two plants from the planter beds in Redfern that now sit on our balcony. When J first grabbed one out, I was shocked and delighted to see that they were in pots (I thought it was one big bed)! It's my job to water them and, so far I'm doing ok.

My very good friend Ben hit a wall and is bouncing back, you can see his blog at lookaboveandsmile.blogspot.com

I want to take the time to remember his crazy antics and all the joy he gave me since I met him. I hope there will be more good times to come and that our friendship can survive the "real" world - outside the clubs, outside the joy of drugs. And even there again, when Ben is ready to go there on his own terms. Ben is an amazing person, and I know you can't tell much from a photo, but for those who've not met him, here's Ben.

So, there's a little catch-up on some of the random things in my life, and the people I love.

Here's a funny birthday related comic strip. I call it, Eat Clown:

A Strange Strange Boy

2006-02-21T23:41:00.000+11:00

Today Josh and I went and saw Memoirs of a Geisha, finally. I am glad. I liked it but too much focus on the romance. This song keeps coming into my head when I think of him - of Josh. What a strange boy...

But as I have said many times before - there is strength in the differences between us, there is comfort where we overlap. (Ani DiFranco)

Strange Boy - by Joni Mitchell

A strange boy is weaving
A course of grace and havoc
On a yellow skateboard
Thru midday sidewalk traffic
Just when I think he's foolish and childish
And I want him to be manly
I catch my fool and my child
Needing love and understanding

What a strange, strange boy
He still lives with his family
Even the war and the navy
couldn't bring him to maturity

He keeps referring back to school days
And clinging to his child
Fidgeting and bullied
His crazy wisdom holding onto something wild
He asked me to be patient
Well I failed
"Grow up!" I cried
And as, the smoke was clearing he said
"Give me one good reason why!"

What a strange, strange boy
He sees the cars as sets of waves
Sequences of mass and space
He sees the damage in my face

We got high on travel
And we got drunk on alcohol
And on love the strongest poison and medicine of all
See how that feeling comes and goes
Like the pull of moon on tides
Now I am surf rising
Now parched ribs of sand at his side

What a strange, strange boy
I gave him clothes and jewelry
I gave him my warm body
I gave him power over me

A thousand glass eyes were staring
In a cellar full of antique dolls
I found an old piano
And sweet chords rose up in waxed New England halls
While the boarders were snoring
Under crisp white sheets of curfew
We were newly lovers then
We were fire in the stiff-blue-haired-house-rules

--------------

My heart strings are tugged, solo violin, in a secret, darkened room, the melody slides from cautious to passionate - wild to mournful. A shaft of light filters in sometimes to bring impossible joy to me, as the dust particles dance through it like faeries.

a true affection some kind of love? nothing more. nothing less.

--------------

Loosing My Bitch

2006-02-10T00:37:00.000+11:00

My Bitch was Brian. He taught me so many things about life. To relax, to accept others for who they were, to reserve judgement, to live, to survive. He helped me in a time when I needed a friend. Someone to just be there and say it's all ok. And he taught me to have fun again. The value in games and play and affection.

We held each other in a tender grip, as we walked through our own private storms together.

But My Bitch is not my bitch any more. He has grown away from me, and me from him also, I suppose. We begin to break each other's hearts, grate up against each other - making tension more than love.

I am dissapointed. I feel his attention is fake and his love token. His eyes are always on the door when he's with me. his mind is always somewhere else.

Bitch - I let you go. You are not mine. I release you.

I will still be here if you need a friend, but my heart does not belong to you any more. I am no longer your baby, your toy, your precious little girl. I will never again curl up in your arms.

There is no "you and me" any more, we are no longer "the special two".

I mourn a little, but I accept. Life marches on and change is good and natural.

Where are you going little boy? I hope life will take you to better places than you have known. I wish happpiness for you, and health and good fortune, and love.

And for me?

No more bitches - I want an equal. I want to build a house and call it my own.

*********

Will Sleep Not Find Me?

2006-02-08T02:36:00.000+11:00

I shouldn't have tooted, I suppose. Should have known that you would disconnect from me, fall back away from my touch, turn your eyes from my gaze and fall asleep. Strange boy, you sleep in my bed with all your clothes on, as if you need to be ready to run at any moment, and never look back.

You did not say good night. How could I not want to sleep near you? You pull me close with one hand, and push me away with the other. I am alone. But alone I do not feel this lonely. Coming down, can't sleep, such a tender time with you before, edgy, meaningful. Now empty. Fucked. Tired. Teary.

Fragile.

Will sleep not come and find me?

I'll take a valium and see if it will love me, caress me into soft nothing, make me feel the wholeness and security of sleep.

And maybe in the morning I will know if you care for me, or if this is nothing. I am nothing.

The Touch of Rain

2006-01-25T15:38:00.000+11:00

I am sitting back right now and reeling with surprise. A smile curls at the corners of my mouth. A sweet, cheeky affection scratches at my heart. My skin learns to feel again. Yearning softly returns to my body like a an old friend - curious.

Someone in my life is refreshing and amazing. What a strange boy, what a beautiful mind, what a patient touch, mature focus, respect. A small storm knocks about inside you. At times, I can hear your distant thunder. I can see lightening in your eyes. Your fingers are electric.

What can I do for you? What can I give you?

Happy New Year!

2006-01-11T20:49:00.000+11:00

My new years saga has finally come to an end. Today the answer to the questions that have been haunting me came into my head while I was sitting on the balcony.

The questions:

What has been gained? What has been lost? Why has my life gone down this path? What did fate have in mind for me when it lead me away from what I knew and into this new place of living? What consolations? What have I learned?

The answer:

Maturity.

I have gained maturity.

Cold comfort? Maybe. But there is a peace in my self that I never had before. Now that I no longer invest myself wholy in ceremony, in "us", in trying to control the uncontrollable - other people's spirits, other people's paths, happiness, love.

I am wiser, more street-smart, more tolerant, more patient, more repectful and understanding towards others. Pride - my enemy, my inner demon, the bain of my existence - has loosened its grip on me.

I no longer think I can understand everything, let alone control it. And it feels great.

So new years was not some great ceremony, a simple thing to believe in, an affirmation of friends and togetherness and immortality...

New years was in the squeeze of Josh's hand as we walked through Surry Hills, tina'd off chops to Arq on the monday night. In the reality of dropping, and facing an ethical cricis about g - with no easy answers, no simple solution. In the feeling of ecstasy coarsing through me as Ben and I danced to "happy hardcore" on the balcony at Arq, miming the lyrics to Summer Rain. It was in talking to Daniel about everything on the night I got back from Dad's - the scene vrs. clubbing, our desires and anxieties, survival and happiness, quiet times, lonliness and love. Newness and life and celebration was in playing in the park with Rohan and Josh at the sprinkler on the hottest day in Hurstville. In lying on the slippery-dip, smoking a solitary cigarette, comfortable and happy, looking at the tall tree-tops, the clearest blue sky, and feeling free. In supporting Rohan when he sang with unmistakable passion at Stonewall karaoke - pearls amongst swine? Perhaps, but pearls none the less and we were there to appreciate them.

New years was in working hard, helping a friend in need, holding my head up in pride when I was made to cry at work, then letting it all go to dance in campness in the pool at Dan and Kylie's second pool party. Happy, free.

Throwing rubber ducks. Smoking tina. Dancing to trance. Winking at boys. Drinking wild turkey. Crying with relief and exhaustion. Paying off my phone bill (the sms queen is back!). Eating vegetables. Drinking tequila. Touching and holding someone in the dark, falling asleep, excepting what is, not needing to have more. Dancing with Brian at Stonewall. Feeling the sensuality of drugs. Looking up at my old moral high-ground and bidding it a happy goodbye.

What for the new year?

Sex, sensuality, hard work, pride, experience, mistakes, love, disappointment, joy...

Bring it on. Bring it on, bitch.

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Nose to the Stone

2006-01-08T15:23:00.000+11:00

Reluctantly I welcome the new year. I am not proud or happy about or even sure of the way last year panned out. It was a rollercoaster of change and loss, with a few strong gains and lessons learnt along the way. I am glad to say I survived the toughest year I have had since 2002, but reluctant to celebrate the birth of 2006, as I no longer hold the confident attitude I always did towards the future. It seems I have learnt that sometimes life does not get better and better with each change, sometimes there is heartbreak and uncertainty and (yes, hear's that word again) loss.

I have been like a new baby; hands reaching out to grab everything, wanting to put everything in my mouth, eyes darting around, following pretty things, mesmerised by new and beloved people - in awe and unable to focus. It is time for me grow up a little. It is time to put my nose to the grindstone. Well, next year will be 'nose to the stone' year, but this year I must begin the process of turning towards the stone. I must begin to court disclipline again, to flirt with ambition, to become intellectually narscissistic - at least enough to get back into my project.

Aims at this point: get new supervisor, write enough by next semester to justify teaching again, apply for casual tutoring in second semester, plan another overseas conference attendence (present paper), write and submit thesis-specific article for publication.

Strategy: needless to say, there are many strategies for getting this done, but the first and most important is this - WED, THURS and FRI of each week are to be uni work days, SAT and SUN are to be Manacle days, MON and TUES days off for socialising/being trashed. In this regime there is room to move if, for example, I decide to go out WED nite and wipe out thursday, that's ok if I catch it up the following tuesday.

So that's the plan. I would also like to keep my party favour expenditure down to a max of $100 per week. I know it seems like a lot, but I have been spending a lot more than that some of these last weeks, and I am being realistic.

----

New Year/Old Year

2006-01-05T18:14:00.000+11:00

I have decided in retrospect that New Years Eve is as much, if not more, about the death of the old year as it is about the birth of the new. My new years eve (extending over the weekend) this year was like a wake to me. Deep down I felt a sense of death. I was looking back upon 2005 just like an exhausted soldier looks over their wounds. Feeling sorry for myself, feeling fragile, feeling desperate. Trying to "get into the spirit", I was in denial of the black shroud that draped itself over me for new years. As always, I was trying to make everything ok, fretting about details, other people's moods and movements, feeling like I was trying to hold something together, keep something at bay...

I should have just accepted that I was mourning the old, not trying to celebrate the new. I had no energy, no spark of rebirth - I had wounds to uncover and clean, losses to count, strengths to re-gather, and a gypsy's caravan of memories to burn, making way for the new.

What next? I am breathing. I am sleeping. There is music - quiet now. Soon, there will be dancing.

I want to feel two things again this year, more than anything:

CLARITY and PASSION.

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*

Pimpin' Tahhhme!

2005-12-25T20:23:00.000+11:00

This is my pimpin' sister.

And me on the phone. Typical. Merry Christmas everyone!

I strongly suggest you check out Daniel's latest (and second latest) blog, which will direct you to photos of our housewarming party. The link is in my links list, under Check This Out!

We will be having NYE drinks at the House of Hussy from 9 pm. All welcome! It is even rumoured that my pimpin' sister will be making an appearance...

Come celebrate the New Year with us in Hussy Style!

After the Storm/Before the Storm?

2005-12-23T21:53:00.000+11:00

Life comes around in a circle to meet its own tail, like a snake. I wake up with the ghost of travel beginning to creep around me, and I curl back into sleep with a cautious push of the snooze button. I cannot sleep in today.

Leaving alone. No one to see me off this time - it's only a short trip anyway. Pack bags, wear a pretty dress; pale antique blue for the summer and the colour of my mood today. Get ready, don't forget anything - Christmas at Dad's.

Fragile on the edge of come-down today. A shivering leaf, poised to fall. Tip-toeing past myself in the mirror; I am pale, gaunt, drained, a quiet smile and hesitant heart. Eight hours sleep in four days, and a scare. A bender. A flirtation with darkness that I am not ready to face yet... Anyway.

Your body - half in my bed, jeans still on, asleep on top of the covers - is beautiful and unselttling. Now, while you sleep, it is peaceful and I feel calmness and affection. Pottering about as I pack and get ready to go, I stop a moment to trace my hand through the air above you, noticing the sharp curve of your back as you lay on your stomach like a little boy.

Time passes and gets away from me a bit as I am packing. I realise I must wake you now. I try and I am gentle; I touch your neck, run fingers through your hair, whisper to you, tap you softly. I try to be so gentle, to be soft. You stir but will not wake. My time is running out...

I squeeze your earlobe once. Bad move. Suddenly and fiercely you uncurl and strike out at me like a scorpion. I fall back frightened and ashamed. Tears fill my eyes and I feel even more ashamed.

I cover my face with my hands and try to breath. I hate myself right there in that moment, as if I could die because I feel like a failed person, wrong, deformed. As if I somehow managed to miss the part where you learn how to touch other people, how to play with other children, and no one will play with me because I am strange.

I leave the room to calm down, write you a note, finish packing and head off alone make the bus with no hug and no goodbye.

I have hotcakes for breakfast, a coke, a cigarette and cheack-in in perfect time for the coach to EDEN. Waiting to board, I am haunted by the past; years of bus trips up and down the south coast of NSW. Pies from the Nimitabel Bakery, teary goodbyes to dad, mum, brothers living elsewhere. Happy trips and Christmas reunions, excitement, nostalgia, the firey naive passions of my teenage journal writing. Tears on pages of greif, fantasies, confusions, a dead butterfly on the highway... That me: A secret girl, wild and delighted inside her own universe in the far back seat of the bus.

Every trip is always that trip - city turns into land, fences roll over hills in all colours, cold now becomes hot and cold again, and the searing sun becomes a moody, humid storm-front as we decend towards the Victorian boarder.

We pass the place where the Narooma fair is heald each year and I remember the rides and dodgem cars, the beautiful sunset turning the sky orange over the sea as we reach the top of the feris wheel. Three boys are playing on the side of the road with no shirts, no shoes, grubby, laughing. Now at the sea a group of kids is fishing under a bridge over the bay. The mountains now frame one egde of the world, mistly and blue. The bush and sea and many shades of green complete my view. Sydney may be home, but I have come back to something, some deeper home, some older truth...

I am quieted. Begin day one of detox - from many things, but mostly from all of you. This distance from distraction.

And of J? I left him sleeping in my bed - not an easy thing for me to do - and I asked in the note if he would call me. Just to reach out, just to re-assure. Just to lighten the load of beginning to care.

Some people are more like hedgehogs than others and getting close can be risky business. This little hedgehog is bruised and unsure at the moment. Scarred and definatly fragile. Still - I like to play with other children... I'm sure I can learn the rules.

Does it require me to kill the wild things I keep inside?

....

Fuck!

2005-12-15T14:51:00.000+11:00

The weekend just gone: a whirlwind of working a good number of hours, coming into some merchandise ;-) pushing my flirtations with gay-boys further, and pushing my flirtation with g to the furtherest edge I'm willing to go to...

Fuck!

I regret missing Louise's drinks and hope I can catch up with her and do something nice. But fate had another plan for me this weekend. She left me stumbling into Wednesday, waking at four am with bruises all over my legs. Brian said like a dalmation, and he was exactly right. I've never had it so rough, so all consuming. And the culprit? Unexpected, but not a complete surprise. I've been watching, waiting, feeling my way around. And what a little mongral - quite an interesting piece of work. Strangely romantic, passionate, hot, intense, strong and yet, in some ways so fragile.

Still too soon to record the details of these two encounters but here's some "feeling and sensation words":

The first time: Edgy. Delinquent. Dangerous. Surprising. Sexy. Dirty.

The second time: Calculated. Overwhelming. Consuming. Passionate. Challenging. Filthy. Exhausting. Charming. Fascinating.

Fuck! Eek! Anyway.

That's all for now. I'll update more soon. Daniel's and my housewarming party is on this saturday. Looking forward to that.

We Get Knocked Down, But We Get Up Again...

2005-12-10T23:02:00.000+11:00

We all depend on the kindness (and the campness) of strangers...

We all grow tired and need a little help from our friends.

We all crave love like children, a kind word, a reassurance, inspiration, the respect of those that we respect.

We all must earn these things, and we must ask for them. No (wo)man is an island.

Today WAS better. The poetry of life, the poetics of it... The symmetry - throwing me into despair to pull me out into the sun again. Emerging stronger but cautious. The kindness of strangers! The healing power of meaningful, mutual exchanges. The value of an invite, a sharing, a small gift, a ear to listen, arms to hug you.

The deepening of a couple of new friendships. The holding out of an olive-branch from an "old friend" destined to be new again. Renewed.

Feeling ok. Feeling like there are still people for whom I can want to be my best.

Looking forward to things. Daring to hope for things.

Thanks Chris, Daniel and Liz. Not only, but especially today. And thanks to Dan Murphy for playing a number of new songs today. You all refreshed me. Re-booted me when I had crashed, frozen.

...

Loss...

2005-12-08T22:45:00.000+11:00

This afternoon I missed my English Dept christmas party because of a lack of confidence. Realising I had no one to go with - no partner who would accompany me, no Liz Pender to meet up with, my supervisor wants to drop me but hasn't even arranged a time to meet with me to do so, my associate supervisor has cancelled appointments with me twice already and so my supervision is completely up in the air. Feeling neglected and weak I chose to stay home and catch up on my email, which I have had little access to of late.

In good news; Daniel's move into the apartment has gone relatively smoothly. The place looks fantastic and Daniel's get-up-and-go attitude is infectious. I feel like organising myself a lot more, particularly in terms of the thesis. I am trying desparately to get something organised with supervision before the Christmas break.

TEARS

I went to Lander St to get my mail and try to get my phone unbarred by calling optus from there. I felt so out of place, unwelcome, fragile, wanting support, tenderness, welcome. Talking to J left me so upset that I was struck by an overwhelming desire to cry, so I said a hasty goodbye and left, bursting into tears before I even got half-way up the street.

So shut-out from their world, so alone. I miss everyone so much. I've lost everything. I miss being invited to hang out with my friends. I miss knowing everyone and everyone knowing me. I miss ease and comfort with loved ones who've known me for years. I never thought that the price would be so high for making a decision that I needed to make.

I feel like I've messed everything up, even though I've tried not to. I feel like I am out of sight and out of mind, and everyone has moved on without me.

I think I left my mail there in the end... and I had to make my phone call from a public phone. So my phone is still barred (but the bill is paid now, so should be unbarred soon), and tonight I feel so fragile, I could fall off the edge of myself and wander into the traffic to be shattered into the nothing that I feel I am.

I hope tomorrow is better. I hope the years of friendship do not mean nothing. I hope I still exist. I hope that J is not a stranger, and love is not a lie. I hope life is not just a random waste of time. I hope this loneliness is just a phase.

------

Lost? ;-)

2005-12-01T14:52:00.001+11:00

Sunday night at Arq I finally lost myself... lost myself in a glorious k-hole... lost myself in you... arggghhh full on! Faaaaabulous...

This is what I wrote when you left:

To get lost from yourself and your surrounds need not be a frightening thing. Bump to get warm. Bump again and you’re hotter. And the third time jump right off… Eyes lose focus, edges stary, a sparkling haze. Sounds change their presence and texture. The dominant sounds may fall behind and make way for timid, more complex aural patterns. New shapes emerge. Things seem closer or further away. The body heats up, speeds up, and yet the mind and time slow down. More concentrated, more laboured, more intense. The small things become all there is. Tension, control, losing control and holding onto it.

But lose yourself with someone else, and the journey into each other becomes all there is. The music a driving force, a script to follow, a set of sign-posts showing you different ways that you can travel together. Bodies move closer, less self-conscious, but no less self-aware – each touch, each movement, together or against each other becomes a music of its own with discord and harmony in an interplay.

I close my eyes to forget the world around, to let myself be here in this experience. Because it is so rare and precious, and may never come around again. I can let go of this control, this pride, this fear… I can afford to let you move me. Take my hand, my arms twisted into yours, stumbling laughing onto the dance floor. One corner to the next, grappling, reaching, pummelling each other with graceful affection, hands gripping the table, a speaker, the wall to stabilise me. You almost pull me down. I reach under your shirt – your back, your skin so soft… I grab your hair at the back of your neck, twist it gently, brush the sensitive skin around your ears with the back of my fingers, run fingertips down your spine, resist the desire to dig my nails in, to push myself under your skin. We go under waves of soft, dark oblivion and come up for air, pausing, laughing, then getting swept away again.

We cannot afford to let such igniting moments pass us by for the sake of self-consciousness. I let myself move with you. You are so sensual, a curled-up spring of sexual energy, passion, integrity. You let go, you pounce, you ravage, you touch and strain and pull back again. A rhythm builds.

A rhythm that wants to consume me – consume us both. An intensity that we skirt around, or simply avoid most of the time, greets us head-on, throws us into tangles of each other. Jump in – the water is hot! Bodies find their own ways of fitting together and moving as one creature.

I feel your hunger, energy, passion, and creativity sparking from your hands into my skin – firm grip, deliberate, tracing the lines of my body from my ankles up, you on your knees like worship, but you are in control at this moment. You humble me with the conviction of your passion. I feel it in the grind of your hips towards mine… Even in something simple like your head upon my shoulder – nestling with intent...

To the outside world we must seem odd, oblivious, out of control… but this fusion is controlled; only it is by a deeper consciousness. We are not out of control, or lost from ourselves, but lost in each other – finding other selves. Magic dust, magic place of lights and shadows and heat and music. I am heaving with excitement, danger, titillation, and delight.

You: a ratbag, beautiful – intense one moment, cheeky the next. I want to possess you, over-power you with domination, delight you with games and make you believe. I want to be worthy of your self-subordination. I want to break you softly, then break for you in return – to rise again from the ashes, wink at you and walk away, unscathed, a vision of perfection. I want…

At one or two points our eyes meet and I am afraid the ‘spell will break’ if I linger too long. Then you firmly hold my head and turn my eyes to look directly into yours. I approve of the gesture, I am surprised, I am impressed by your courage, but I also resist. Yes, I am afraid; not of what I might see (not at all) but of the possibility that I will never see it again.

..........

Breathing Again

2005-11-18T15:53:00.000+11:00

The last few weeks have been - not dark - but slightly cloudy. I have been holding my breath, and curling up against some heavy weather.

I have felt stupid.

Ashamed.

Regretful.

Shut-out. Confused.

I have felt afraid. Regretful. Regretful. Cautious. Older.

My life will never be quite the same as it was. I have aged just a litte.

It's not that I'm complaining - I recognise that the angel watching over me since I was young cannot be taken for granted, and I've had my fair share of good luck in my time...

The last month has felt like rain, followed by hail, followed by snow, and meanwhile I have held onto the pleasure of music and campness.

But two moments have come as relief - the clouds begin to lift and summer is welcomed in.

1. When a certain camp crucader suggested that he'd like to share the apartment with me. It's taken a huge load off my mind and is also an honour.

2. When a certain man granted me a Section 10. My good character and position as a researcher with unique material to present - here and overseas - recommended me.

I feel like a cat, but I know that I do not get nine chances.

Happiness will come again - without complication or a price to pay for it.

I breath again. Cautiously. Slowly at first. And I smile.

The Igniting Factor

2005-11-01T18:20:00.000+11:00

I begin to see myself as a machine. A conglomeration of parts that work together. That function to move and live and do things. A superior kind of machine – its parts so complex, some so intricate… and all so well-fitted they appear as one. As one - invincible, perfect. On the outside all you see is Me – an entirety, an entity, a character, a name, a set of attributes. The tireless laboured workings of the various inner cogs invisible, inaudible. A heart-beat means the pumping of blood, and implicates a system of interlocking tubes and vessels. But the ear hears the soothing sound of comfort, or the hastened skip of lust and excitement.

That said, when one part of the whole malfunctions, the whole is recognised for what it is: a creation, a puzzle made of pieces, a structure that rests on a few seminal pylons. The Heart. The Brain. The Spine. The lungs.

I am a flawed machine. Parts slightly misshapen, badly made, systems perhaps slowing down, or twitching. A glitch, a harsh connection between two parts that were not designed to meet. A grating. A hardening. Parts wearing. The teeth of a misshapen cog grinding away to nothing... And who knows how many more there may be?

The Heart. The lungs. The Brain. The Spine. The Spine.

For the first time, I experienced true tiredness because of this pain. The want to give up. Only for one moment, but clear as crystal – the image of myself shutting down. I looked ahead and saw the movements of myself through the world. Through hours, days, years. The labour. The degeneration. The constant-ness of this machine. The human body is always working. The machine can never stop, and it loses its innocence by becoming aware of itself as a machine. I felt a deep-down shudder and asked “how can I just keep moving!?”

The answer is the same as for any machine. With fuel. With energy. Input from outside. And clear as day I realised something that I should have always known – so simple: food, water and air keep the machine running – on standby, but mental stimulus makes it go. Emotion, excitement, love, visions, concepts, ambition, beliefs, experiences. A complex system of senses, intellect, hormones and imagination are the ignition – the sparks come from the world around.

From the day we are born, we are sparked into action, and we run until we stall or falter. Then we seek a new igniting factor.

I am lonely for that old feeling of wholeness. Sentimental for it. The illusion of effortless perfection. The faith in the self as organic, rather than mechanical. Substances and dancing sometimes re-create that harmony. Make me feel like “I am”, rather than “I work”. Make me feel like all my systems function perfectly and forever.

So dance with me, enfold me, spin me around… Let’s lose ourselves in music, each other, ourselves.

Touch me, fuck me, spark me up.

I got work to do. I got living to do, and it's getting harder relentlessly.

****

Perfect Night/Imperfect Night

2005-10-25T10:23:00.000+10:00

A perfect night. To dance. To listen. To be bad. To be good. To feel. To crave. To delight. To tire. To relax. To snort. To pop. To stand and watch. To take it all in. To run-amock. To smile and smile and smile for life. For each and every day. To laugh at everyone's antics. To think about how we are all different. All special. To see the nobility in trash. To cuddle. To look into someone's eyes. Eyes that sparkle! To feel warm arms around me. The arms of friends.

To try. To try. To survive. Perhaps to even thrive...

A perfect day. To sit. To consider. To laugh. To drink. To play music and tell stories. To be light and easy. To learn about someone else's life, the way their eyes construct the world, the colours they see, the shapes that stand out. The rules they live by, the things that matter to them.

To be at home. To feel at home. Safe and free of pain. Clear and focussed, a path clearing ahead. Things starting to make sense.

Imperfect night. Confusion. Sadness. Loneliness from you. From the friend I had - increasingly like a stranger. Angry. Sarcastic. Almost controlling. Judgemental. Withdrawn at worst, occasionally friendly, then confusing. I am doing my best to make it work here, to live not just along-side, but WITH someone who has a very different lifestyle/timetable. I have tried and worked at being fair and put in effort to include and compromise. Nothing I do is good enough. The rules keep changing. Without justification or explanation.

What is it really that you want? But maybe it's too late to talk about that. And space is the only solution. I don't want to live on egg-shells, just as much as I don't want to lose your friendship. But I am not in control of this. I am no match for what is causing your anger/resentment, etc. My wallet is empty of whatever currency is recognised in your economy.

I am sorry it has gone this way. But there is life to live. There is some pain today after a weekend of work, with this twisting in my spine, there is so much hard work to be done in me, and in my work... There is change, sometimes faster than we can keep up with, which sometimes makes me afraid, but I am ready.

No coward soul is mine.

There are new friendships to build and explore. There are old friends to re-visit and home-comings to observe. There are links to create, relationships to re-define, re-invigorate and renew. There is pride to swallow, love and friendship and strength to reach down and pull out from beneath the tiredness and fear in me. There is giving to be done.

Alco-mo-hol!

2005-10-22T00:16:00.000+10:00

God, could this week 1/2 have been any more confusing/difficult/turmultuous!? New friends, new feelings, new self-concepts, new thoughts and cares and worries... The new apartment coming together as I had hoped, but still a little lonely - no tv and luke is very independent. Doesn't often want to eat with me, which is my usual way of connecting with housemates, keeping a relationship going...

I feel lonely, but also free and unencumbered at the same time. The space is really good for working in and I have already been feeling inspired to get going on this catch up.

Have made an effort to re-connect with other dear friends and hope to continue to build those bridges.

Last night I went to the Newtown Hotel for Dallas and Della's new show "Shemales from Outer Space!" with Luke and Aaron and Dave and Brian. For the first time in a while I drank a fair bit. Silly, tipsy, we walked all the way home. Felt crazy, young, alive again in a way I've not felt for a while. I miss it. The freedom to act like a fool. And yet, I would not go back to those high school days for anything...

Relationships are so complicated when you are a grown up - tenderness and affection do not always translate to sexual release, respect and caution may win out over desire and yearning.

The body can crave what the mind knows it will never find, never possess.

Tonight D came over for dinner and brought the sunshine back into my life and into my new place. I have felt so uncomfortable, so unsure - but he settled into it like an old shoe, with his usual reserve, but also his characteristic praise and openness. I am grateful and pleased.

So time for bed has come. I find myself hoping Ms S is well, having returned from her life-changing trip to the other side. My own mum has been a life-saver since they told me about my twisted spine - my likely life of pain and hard hard work.

I am not afraid. Life is to be lived and I will live it to the full. "Mum" is the word regarding my discrepancies. I will disclose and deal with the changes in my own time. For now, the carefree girl you knew is alive and well. The passion, the movement, each moment a gesture towards a dance of ecstasy...

"Considerable Irregularity"

2005-10-17T17:05:00.000+10:00

Got through this week on a wing, a prayer and 1 1/2 points of tina. Twice into hospital in varying degrees of pain. Numb toes, weakness everywhere. Tried to pack Thursday, but fell apart. Body would not play. Friday better. Felt alive again. Kylie came and we got the trailer and packed everything up for mine and Luke's move to "Central Redfern" - finished moving at, like, 11pm. Had ct scan on lumbar spine area in the middle of all that. Worked sat, worked sunday, had a tina freak out on sunday night for an hour or so - accidentally wired, everyone asleep, bleh, argh, etc - k'd down with b then slept like a baby and woke refreshed. New apartment coming together nicely. Everything fits good.

TODAY : GOT CT RESULTS FROM THE PEOPLE WHO TOOK PHOTOS THROUGH MY SKIN

It should have come as no surprise to me that whatever is wrong with me is no normal, common problem. I was born with deformities in both hands (odd little fingers, a-symmetrical, wrong lengths, etc, you have my permission to request a closer look if you're interested in genetic abnormality...) The same kind of thing appears to be in my spine. Of course I am not a doctor and cannot really understand the results page I have been given along with my pictures, but I can deduce that it's not a slipped-disk and phrases like "considerable abnormalities", "diffuse abnormality throughout the lumbar spine", and "posterior joint changes ... more marked than usually seen in a person of this age" are a little disconcerting.

Of course I got a little George Michael for a minute, crying to myself on Missenden Rd "I'm never gonna dance again", picturing myself in a wheel chair, and various more horrible fates...

The one conclusion I can safely make from my lay-perspective is that I truly am a freak of nature. My mum says "unique" and I am happy with that. Fortunately all the other things that make me special have caused me no (physical) pain, unfortunately this variation has.

I see a doctor tomorrow who will hopefully be able to explain the results more clearly. I have a feeling that I will be seeing a lot more doctors in the near future.

For now the pain is under control and I am feeling fine, just a little nervous.

Tonight I am going to DeckBar to relax and unwind with friends. If my hopes are fulfilled, then my little pink lolly will warm me and I will be able to dance. I must find a pretty dress and a pair of practical cha cha heels.

PS: k totally rocks! I mean like totally!

Homo Sweet Homo

2005-10-11T04:42:00.000+10:00

Luke and I got an apartment today. We applied, paid deposit and had approval within an hour. In an uncharacteristic table-turn, it is I who was not able to see it before we applied, having been in hospital for The Bitch Pain at inspection time. Liz went with Luke and approved of it - explained it well with a very good drawing too - and I think we both had a pretty good idea of what we wanted.

This weekend has been odd. The pain has built up steadily, and the first half saw me trying to kill it with legal drugs - Panadeine Forte, Endone tablets, valium, ibuprofen. The only thing that worked for a little little while was valium (sleep through the pain...)

But this second half was totally different. I decided to ignore the Bitch Pain and live my normal work-day and go out. As it turned-out, tina is a very sweet pain reliever, and I didn't go out, but had a fabulous homo-cooked dinner ;-) nice wine and great conversation. Spent the night in with Daniel, Brian and Brett, then Daniel and Brett, then just Danial and me. Fabulous! I feel honoured that he/they would choose to spend that much time with me, and I feel that we all benefitted by the interaction (I'm so clinical sometimes!).

Had a lovely walk with Luke in Newtown in the morning paying the deposit on our new place. Felt relief and elation to have secured a residence. (Oh, yeah, and can't wait to see it, so it becomes more than just a list of attributes in my head.)

Rowan picked-up a quality piece and had a smile a mile wide like a giddy school girl from his fabulous "booty-call". Kylie and I were so proud! (Maybe we really are fag hags after all...) Kylie has been separated from "her man". Which I approve of, because a woman who knows herself so well, and who is so fabulous and strong shouldn't be with a mess. Kylie - your Diva sphere is sacred. Good on you girl for holding your head up.

Save yourself for Dan Murphy, eh!?

B's a sweety and our relationship is growing to be supportive and surprisingly tender (as well as sarcastic, fabulous, dodgy, etc). I love it right now. And the little bits of affection we all share with each other are so nice for me.

to be continued....

Groove is in the Heart

2005-10-05T23:43:00.000+10:00

Heart is in the gutter.

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." Leftie, Anarchisty??? quotation. Anyone know the source?

This post contains a come-down winge and a Festival Report.

SCIATICA

For one week and two days I have had pain. Pain begins in the hip, at the back, on the side. The physio massages the painful twisted muscle in my right butt cheek. I am such a prude, her touches make me feel uneasy. But it also feels good to have that movement against the pain.

MY GROOVE

All weekend I could not dance. The groove was in my heart, but my body was tired, twisted and fragile. Doped-up against the pain, it dared me to let go and boogy, then stopped me with sharp jabs from the nerves - an electric pain, a shock.

Now it has moved from the hip to the leg. Down the leg and into the calf. A tingle, electric shocks when I walk, kick, move things with my feet.

BUGS

It is Spring and the weather is distinctively warmer. Tonight I am coming down like a sack of bitchy potatos. Eating like a pig. The body seems to hoard during the week, after weekends of not eating. Binge, starve, binge, starve.

As if it knows I am on edge tonight, the universe has sent two black moths and a big ugly blow fly to disturb my sleep. They flutter and buzz around my room excited about the Spring. I try to ignore them, but when one hits me in the face, I say "God! That's enough!" But we've got no bug spray...

Breeding season. Thousands of bugs hatching, laying, springing out to tackle the world. To survive till they are squashed, poisoned, eaten by something, or die in their way. Heat, crazy feverous desire, sweat, laughter, desperation - the world sped up. Things grow, live and die in fast-motion. The earth on meth.

I love the Summer, and I fear it. Everything at extremes. More parties, more drugs, more sex, more life. But even in the city, the Summer means wildlife. Bigger bugs, bigger spiders. More phobia. More fear. Silly, really.

A ROOM OF ONE'S OWN

We did not get the second appartment. The other applicants were older and made more money. It is wearing me thin. Tiring me out. I've never had trouble getting a house before. I've been on heaps of leases and I have a squeeky-clean rental record...

I have to get out of here, cannot start something happening then let it falter, let it linger on. Just want to make change happen now. To start a-fresh, and get on with my life. So universe, quit your bullshit and give us a god-damn house!

I am sure that change is coming and strength is coming, I just have to remember Wilson Phillips and "hold on for one more day".

****FESTIVAL OF EMMA REPORT:

First of all, thank you to those who attended my birthday party, and any of the associated events. I had a really good time.

My K party was certainly that. Mainly a chance to have k in a supportive and safe environment where those of us not that familiar could feel comfortable experimenting with it. We had two k virgins, who found the experience most positive. We also had a master in the midst, with good advice on hand, and support. The set-up was fun as we turned my room into "The Red Room" for the occasion (I'll post (selected) photos when I've downloaded them). Humorous moments include the first communal bump, a holy communion administered by myself to each atendee. Which was followed immediately after by my noticing that the "o" key on my lap-top had suddenly disappeared! Cries of "I cannot find my "o"! And who will help me find my "o"?" resounded. Later we had boys in dresses and hats and gloves and a lovely photo shoot - camp! All in all, a silly, fun and chilled-out night.

Thank you to everyone for the presents they gave me, including your presences of course! Here are a few special thanks:

Thank you to Jorja for the sub-woofer and speakers. (NB: Sub-woofer is not a boy in a collar on all fours!) This system allows me to have music after I move - and this is very important to me.

Thanks to my Mum for the bed. I love it! Hot! And it inspires me to decorate my new room (when I get one) and feel ownership over the process.

Thanks to Liz for the beautiful quill and ink. You will never let me forget that I am an artist and a writer. Sometimes, lately I have forgotten and resented that part of me. Wanted to obliterate it all. A beautiful gift. Poetic and inciteful.

Luke - a practical gift, with a quirky edge. I loved it.

Arron - you have an eye for understanding other people's style.

Alexis - the smell of Chai takes me back to better and worse times of life. Thank you for coming to my party.

Daniel, Sal, Brett and John (each and all unique and special) - your enthusiasm for people, for life, for love, for each other is infectious! I can't get enough of your smiles, your wisdom. Your generousity strengthens me. John - your principles, humility, and strength of character give me hope, and inspire me.

Daniel - it is so nice to see you growing with confidence to be unique. I am proud.

Thanks all of youse for taking a chance on a crazy girl like me.

Rowan - thanks for calling to say happy birthday. You are a sweety even if you are a mystery. Love ya babe.

Brian - Ta baby. Your un-judgemental company is a pleasure. You are so much more than just a "hussy" to me.

If I've forgotten anyone, it's just because I'm tired and doped-up on Panadeine Forte. Thanks to those I have forgotten.

The rest of the weekend was fun too - showing up to Manacle for my birthday on sunday was particularly special. I felt fabulous surrounded by my wonderful and interesting friends. I felt supported and happy and relaxed. Hanging with Jodie and Kate was fun, and Jodie is very inspirational, reminding me that academia can be fun. The pool party was a crazy hoot, with some moments of anxiety...

Spoke to Summer, but didn't get to spend quality time with her. Hope things work out ok. My heart is with her in this hard time and I look forward to catching up in better times for us both.

In general and in conclusion::::

I am holding my heart in my hand and gambling with my life. Will I end up on top, or falling deeper into chaos? I take a deep breath and push my everything into the middle of the table. I would be lying this time if I said I am not afraid.

********

Egads! The Festival of Emma

2005-09-29T22:54:00.000+10:00

So. You can't possibly keep up with what's going on in my life! Well, I can't, anyway.

1. I am moving in just over a week.

2. Luke and I applied for a fabulously situated appartment on Charlmers St, and.... didn't get it. I cried.

3. I got an attack of sciatica on tuesday while trying on clothes. I have been trying to lie down, not move too much and recover before work on saturday and... my birthday.

4. The Festival of Emma is planned for Saturday night thru to Tuesday. I turn 25 on October 2nd - this sunday. God seems to be intent on sabotaging my good time, but I plan on thwarting his evil plan using a clever combination of uppers, painkillers and dissociatives and halucenogens. He he he. Sciatica be gone! (Oh, yeah, and I'm also seeing a really good physio who is trying to fix me up in time for this weekend.)

5. We've applied for another appartment, not so fabulously situated, but actually a better appartment. Its quite fabulous really, and we paid deposit today, so fingers crossed. It also has pool, sauna, spa, gym, 2 bathrooms, huge living area, and also has dishwasher and reverse-cycle air con! Hot! And Cool!

I am holding my breath into this weekend...

Miss S is stuck interstate and her absence for my birthday, as well as the idea that she may be suffering is a little dent in my happiness.

Stuck on the couch and acting like a bitch to all those around me because of the back injury... Pain does not become me. Although Panadeine Forte makes me silly and pleasant.

Stay tuned for a post-Festival of Emma report posting. And keep your fingers crossed about our 2nd choice appartment. If we don't get this one, I'll start thinking there's something wrong with us.

Thank you to Jorja for having been so supportive of me with this back pain... Sorry if I don't deserve it most of the time.

-------

The Festival of Emma (in short)

Get your program from me in person.

Sat 6pm - dinner at The Landsdowne Hotel, across the rd fronm Broadway Shopping Centre.

Sat night 10pm - 6.30am - Mothership K Party. At my house. An intimate gathering of trashbags.

Sun 7am Manacle - Dirty Day Club Recovery. See you there, bright and early!

Sun night 10.30 pm - Club Kooky, 77 William St $5 - till 5am.
Follolwed by a trip to Arq for those who want to - Arq tickets $25 or $30 on the door.

Monday night - Deckbar for cake and merriment! Love to have a drink and a hug with you all there while chilling to sounds of Mr Murphy!

Can't wait to get trashed with each and everyone of my dear friends. Yes! That means you...

Sensual Healing

2005-09-20T23:01:00.000+10:00

My body is mostly ruled by my mind. Its actions are determined constantly by external factors of culture, expectation and interaction with others. Dissociatives draw the mind away from these factors and increase the body's sensual domination.

On that k on monday night, I felt physical for the first time in ages. It was nice to care less about what people thought and just act like a child.

Like a woman. Delighted and eager.

Two Weekends of Medication and Change

2005-09-13T11:17:00.000+10:00

These last two "weekends" (sunday night, monday, monday night), I have allowed myself a few indulgences: Unmeasured lines of unfamiliar batches of substances have come my way (thanks to one special lovie), and, after asking a few simple questions (or halving the lines in size), I have accepted them. I took tiny bumps in an inappropriate place (twice), discretely, of course, but with an announcement to those close so they could see my rebellion. (This was NOT at Manacle, by the way.) I have smoked some tina when the pipe was going around (as opposed to only eating it from an extremely controlled half-point-dose bag (which I didn't get any of this weekend, anyway)). I have used drugs to make me feel better when feeling like crap (twice) (as opposed to only taking drugs when feeling good to feel even better). And I have taken a left-over bump at home on my own at the weekend's end - just to enjoy the sensation in comfort and privacy.

These are all things I would not have found acceptable six months ago.

But this weekend I have also: Shared some of what little I did have with those in need. Refused all manner of substances offered, on numerous occasions, most pertinently tina. Taken a break during the second night from being on anything to give the mind and body a slight chance to refresh. Taken myself away from Oxford St to get changed and shower before DeckBar - yes, Rowan came along, but it's a good step towards independence... And I have been well-behaved at pretty much every point. Aware of those around me, sensitive to their needs as well as mine where possible. Fun and camp wherever I could be. Giving of attention and praise where it may help or heal.

My heart is sore with growing pains as it swells to love new people, new things, try to find its own beat, while also breaking from the necessary (and some perhaps unnecessary) distance I put between J and myself. I begin to slowly see the uncertainty and potential shame I was projecting onto J with regards to drugs. Always second-guessing, I never let her have her own reactions to this part of my life. I just assumed she would not understand/would disapprove, etc. That wasn't fair.

But we all have our standards, limits, boundaries we see as important, and I think mine and hers are in very different places at the moment - mostly due to age and occupation. Anyway, enough with the analysing, justifying, etc. And back onto the self-medication theme:

Drugs were always a social thing for me. A social experience, a glue, an excuse to get closer, to touch and be intimate with friends, to experience new and memorable things together that would form a shared canon of memories. "Weren't we wild!" "Remember when we danced all night and took our shoes off, singing through the city." "Remember when we spent all day in the baby pool in the yard at Hordern St, squashed six people in a plastic-sided vessel and held umbrellas to keep the sun off, doing half-pills and vodka shots." "Remember when we danced like we could burst to Bolero from Moulin Rouge, and I cried and he comforted me, and our relationship was never the same again." And so many more...

But there was always a private side to drug use, and I feared it like death. I fear everything that is solo - too close, too dangerous, too real. The private pleasure, the love of the drug for its own sake, for the journey, for the clarity, for the fuzziness, for the softness it provides, for the different parts of you that are revealed...

Drugs (and dancing) can heal relationships, build group memories and bind you together. They can counter the communal darknesses with light and erase bad associations and memories. They can help us to claim and reclaim spaces and times, to be empowered, to own each other and the worlds we move in. I only just really realised that this happens individually as well.

Like all medications, illegal drugs are poisons - they are a substance introduced to the body which causes an unnatural effect - a change. The change can be good, bad or neutral depending on the body an the mind. Like any other drug, illegal drugs have different effects on different people. The same pill can make one person dance and feel over-joyed, while the other is in a private nightmare of self-analysis and melancholy. How can we know what's right, when, for whom and what dose? Listen to others, remember your experiences, experiment, and make sure someone who cares for you knows that you are taking risks. Not just with your body, but your mind, emotions, sense of self and head-space.

So I have always associated drug-therapy with drug addiction. I have held the double-standard that it's ok to medicate for a group problem with mind-alterers, but not for your own. I have been a very judgmental person at times, but work has made me more loving and tolerant.

I just finished off my little bit of k and had a left-over cigarette on my balcony - all by myself. My paralysing fear of being alone on drugs has been removed in these last few weeks. I feel almost defensive of this little bit of special alone-time. Relaxing into my skin, healing. Casting-off any thoughts of shame for my actions - I chose them. I chose this right now, and I trust myself to choose well. I notice the feeling of bare-feet on the cool railings, enjoy the fact that people walking past are unlikely to see me here sitting behind it, back against the house, but they could if they concentrated. In these last few weekends, through a lot of hard work on my part, old fears and neurosies begin to fade. Sleeping by myself. Bugs. Sounds in the house at night, the floors creaking, foundations shifting. The dark.

Being alone.

New fears that are more complicated but ultimately more controllable have been coming into my life, and being alone becomes not only bearable, but important for counteracting them.

........
More on this topic later....

Spring

2005-09-07T16:31:00.000+10:00

The weekend was like a bright flash followed by a sharp fall. I thank everyone from the bottom of my heart that took the time to have drinks with me, a dance, and/or a bump, and help me through this tough time.

The drama with C + J took it's toll on me and The Oxford brought me down. Had been out for long time by then and probably should have gone home - but too sad to face that...

I felt drained and let-down and cynical. And wired-up and stressed-out.

Anyway, an angel caught me and sat me down in a safe and comfy space and gave me my medicine. As much as the cocktail that R and I relaxed on, the company of S was a grouding influence. The irritation stopped, the stress disipated, the warmth filled my bones and S's calmness and generosity made me stronger. Thank you!

Today Jorja and I went to the park and talked. We had to go to the deli and buy a packet of tissues but it was a very good talk. I appreciated the sun and fresh air and the feeling of health and strength that came from her. The conversation was very positive and I enjoyed the time in her company. I look forward to more fun times as friends.

I am high on vitamin D and feeling ok about things.

Let the Spring roll in.

Oh, that explains it...

2005-09-02T20:05:00.000+10:00

To understand my particular sense of humour and my "crazy" approach to life, it helps to know what my family is like:

One night my mum and I were having one of our usual kitchen chats and my brother Liam (the family clown) came in, took three eggs out of the fridge and started juggling them. My mother and I just giggled and kept talking. Because we weren't paying attention to him, he came closer and tried to do it in between us. Naturally, he dropped one of the eggs and it cracked dramatically on the floor.

We both stared at the egg on the floor, then at Liam, then at each other and then smiled. Liam looked angry and started to fume, we wondered what he would do next...

He looked at the egg on the floor, he looked at mum and then at me. Then he dropped another egg onto the floor. Mum and I looked a little shocked. We looked at the eggs, we looked at Liam, we looked at each other and back to the eggs.

So then what happened? Then he calmly and camply threw the last egg onto the floor with others. Mum looked at the eggs, I looked at the eggs, Liam looked at the eggs, we all looked at each other, and then we broke down laughing. We laughed until we cried.

That's my family's way.

Dreams

2005-09-02T12:45:00.000+10:00

I rarely dream. Well, I rarely remember my dreams, and they almost never disturb or interest me. I am a mover, not a shaker. I don't stand still for long enough to feel. I populate the world with mucic and feel through it. I don't really believe in any unconscious/subconscious mumbo-jumbo. But maybe I should...

Maybe the poetry of life (and poetry I do believe in) is trying to reach me through these subconscious levels.

I dreamt:

We were all in the snow. I can't remember who was there, but it was some friends and Jorja. All was fun and frivolous, we were skiiing and playing and hiking and stuff. Then it happened - an avolanch of lava broke from the top of the hill. We were all about half way down and saw it coming. We scattered. Some ran down and tried to get away as the lava advanced. It melted the snow and the water came down first. The water lapped my feet and I was scared. Then the lava was almost upon me and I tried to run to the side hoping I could avoid it. Someone yelled out: "There's no point, it's wider than you can run..." And I knew they were right.

I saw a tree and climbed up as quick as I could. Jorja was in the other tree, not far away. I looked at her, and held on for dear life to that tree. I thought the lava would consume me and I felt alone. I'd die alone if I fell. The lava finally receeded. I got down and I knew I would be alright. I knew we would all be alright. We had survived.

Last night was the first night I slept without Jorja. Even in sleep I have forgotten how to be a whole person, alone... Or have I?

***

Dear Diary

2005-08-29T19:47:00.000+10:00

Warning: This post is not camp. Is not happy or entertaining. So if that's why you read, then read no further, 'cos this is the warts and all shit. You have been warned. (The post about DIVAS under this one is very funny, so take the time to read that and ignore this depressing crap. I just need to get it out.)

The Deep Down Unhappy of Me

So it's been some time in coming, but I am writing this now cos it's taking over me. I have been unhappy in one part of me for a while. I have been growing into a different shape. Not a totally new person, but just changing with the path of my life. Since I started at Manacle my life has changed so much. I have become aware of and connected to a broader gay community that I am growing to love and feel at home in. Much more than I do in student politics, the left, etc. I feel that I bloom in the more positive areas of this scene. I feel alive and free and inspired in a way I never felt previously in my life. I have all these new hopes and desires about my life to do with work and the future and stuff. I imagine myself working in the gay community, in the entertainment industry, or something else, and I hope to make some life-long friends and connections in these areas. So why unhappy?

I feel that my household and my lifestyle might be incompatible with this. But I am also unsure... I must start by saying how much I love my flatmates and my house in general, but there's a clash that won't settle. There's a feeling that I am an outsider. That I don't fit in. And, perhaps more importantly, that I am living a double life. There are also ways in which the house opperates that are opposed to what I would really like to have. It's not any particular rules or factors, just a general feeling that we want different things. Have different priorities, etc.

Tonight I got home and sat on the stairs and just cried. Everyone was out for Liz's dinner before she went to Alice. No one had mentioned this to me, or reminded me that she was leaving tomorrow. (Sure it's probably my responsibility to check these things, but an sms earlier would have made things easier and likely changed my actions today (monday)). Anyway, I cried. Dramatically, and coming down, I felt that I must have been the lonliest person in the world just at that moment. Sure it's probably the "rugs" talking, but I felt so isolated.

Yes, I'd love to live with people also go out, and also take drugs, and are weak sometimes and not so dedicated to the "proper things" they do. (That is not meant to be opposed to current housemates, just to explain a feeling.)

But this is just a minor issue. Most important is my relationship. It's been a long time since I have even written anything bad about mine and Jorja's relationship. I mostly only write the good things to avoid making her uncomforatble, or "airing my dirty laundry" as they say. So it may seem that things are all ok to the outside. But they are not. Since I have started regular nights out, the fights have not stopped. I feel like a constant disappointment and strain to Jorja. Like there is no real understanding of the fact that I have changed and moved into this life of gaybos, and that it's not likely to be a phase, but a life-long love affair. Not neccessarily with "rugs", but with the camp and gayness of it. I may only be attending stuff at the moment, but I do hope to be more involved in organising, etc in the social scene in future.

Mean time, this is my life. And I like it. I like my life the way it is. My little habbits and routines. Working, going out, drinking with friends after work or at Deckbar, or whatever. And I like sponteneity. I like going out not knowing when I will come home, ending up at people's houses and getting to know new poeple. Drinking in bars in the late afternoon...

Is this incompatible to having a partner at all? Or just a partner that you live with?

I feel so torn about my relationship. I love Jorja, but I also feel hopelessly different and apart from her. There's a gap between us that I feel that the love cannot bridge that is always there for me. I feel terrible because when we got together, I did enjoy that really close thing. That everyday kind of relationship. But now I just feel like I am breaking her heart all the time and I feel that it's unsustainable.

I don't want to live in guilt. I want to be free to make decisions in this part of my life that are for me, and not have to take someone else's needs and desires so much into account when deciding what to do each day/night/hour. But it's more than that. I feel like I can no longer fulfil those needs and, more importantly, I worry that I have lost the compulsion to do so.

I know there is no quick-fix answer. I am not sure what to do about this. I just wanted to get my feelings out there and would appreciate any advice. I don't really believe that it would be healthy for me to keep that all private at the moment. I am going to stay at my mumma's house tomorrow and chat to her. She's very wise and believes in the same kinds of things as me, and might be able to help.

e

Concentration Camp!

2005-08-24T16:23:00.000+10:00

(Disclaimer: I know this is a racially insensitive pun, but I am going to leave it for two reasons. 1. It was said to me at the time by a gay Aboriginal man who was fully aware of the racist connotations, and, in fact, (this is point 2) the concept is sadly and ironically suitable. By which I refer to the association of gay nightclubs with prisons or concentration camps. You take the queers, shunt them into a small dark room, and drug them into submission... that kind of thing. I do not really agree with this perspective, but I understand why many people feel it. I know this doesn't erase the culturally specific connotations of the pun, and if there is anyone who is personally offended by it, plead your case in a comment and I'll probably be happy to remove it. Persoanlly I still think it's quite a deep and interesting pun.)

Don’t cry for me Argentina!
The truth is I never left you.
All through my wild days,
My mad existence,
I kept my promise.
Don’t keep your distance…

Diva Drag Industry Awards, 2005

Floor K – sparkling, hot! J says: You get more from the floor.

A stunned mullet in a strapless diamonte dress, I stumbled out of the house to meet Daniel on Monday night to crash the Diva after-party at Arq. Had been offered a ticket to Divas and stupidly turned it down (no one to sit with, etc, too scared, couldn’t be bothered…. Grow up!) Anyway, there’s always next year… (Vote Dan.) Had a nice time swanning around waiting for the glammed-up staff from the Shift to come back from Divas. (They were all so handsome in their black-tie formals! Dan Murphy so quaint in shirt and vest and well-tailored pants…very 50’s - camp) And they all smelled so good, not at all like Tequila and Manacle smell. (All together now to the tune of “Daddy Cool”: Mani-Manacle, Mani-Manacle. I’m crazy like a fool, Mani-Manacle!)

But let’s back-track a second…

SUNDAY - I had been at work all day, home for Luke’s civilised birthday wine and cheese fiasco. (Mostly civilised: “Luke! Lil Rach! Daniel and I need you upstairs for a … um, tour of the house…yeah, a tour of the house you live in…that’s it.”) After the lovely work-mates left it was time to pretty-up. Boys in the downstairs bathroom, girls up top – eye liner, mascara, hats…) Aren’t we hot, etc, blah blah, weren’t we well behaved for the straights. Lines and shots time! Lines and shots! Mmm, vodka! Is this inane? Anyway, moving on.

We did Arq, we did Dayclub – happy and stupid – “Someone left my cake out in the rain” - and then went to Oxford. Later, met Jamie for pool and I won! That was the only game of pool I won all weekend. The rest lost largely due to my bad habit of sinking the white on the black. Drinks, chats, then into a cab to get ready for the Divas after party – Bitch and Boast. McCosker and I started the evening off with a few comfy bumps and a nice drink. Nancy Boy was extremely excited to be out of the house again and even acquired a bow tie for him on the balcony at Arq. Hot!

The boys rollicked into A’s apartment – nice – and we noticed that R was a little tipsy. It wasn’t until I’d handed him the two that I realised he was completely maggotted. Oh, Oh. Needless to say, he was late to the party at Arq after having his head in a bucket. But better late than never and looking for fun!

ARQ – BITCH and BOAST – campo-rama!

I thought I had seen camp – camp people, camp spaces, I thought Deckbar was camp, but Bitch and Boast was breaking my camp-o-meter. I stood in the corner of the extremely over-crowed night club, sardined, as skinny drag queens sashayed past in their angular fashion, boys in suits and fake moustaches got heavy in the corners, big fat funny drag queens squealed and bitched, Divas in flowing sequined dresses flew past with superior glares, screaming queens and g-freaks with no pants tumbled through the crowd – oh my god. My campo-meter exploded and all I could do was stare, dumb-founded as I got jostled, saw two people falling on g through the crowd and did nothing…said to myself – this is a circus, and we are all animals. John bought me a drink and various people asked me if I was ok – all I could manage in the loudness with my strained voice was “The spectacle! I am in awe…” That seemed to suffice for explanation.

Then I found it. On the floor. Sparkling up at me. Hello… Yoink! A big, fresh, full, clean bag o joy. And joy it turned out to be. The joyest!

The rest was a fabulous whirling, sparkling, screaming, tumbling ride to campsville. We were all bound for moo moo land, and the campfire had started to build. When upstairs closed, I liked it better. Everyone I knew was close together now, and Dan had the flock he deserved. And what an effort! It seemed he played for hours, bringing joy and building the campfire till it was raging. He even had the balls to play the Spice Girls – and get away with it. Me and K (in flouncy blue dress, pretty as a picture) were partners in crime, sampling the floor merchandise to check it for safety and quality. Jack pot! It was by far the best I had had, and K agreed that it was top shelf.

K-Robics ahoy! K and I swanned around with stupid grins and excited “heaving bosoms”, step-clap, step-clap, one-two, three-four. J finally made it and got happy. Arq had its soul and was going off. There must have been a butcher in the house. Everybody was far more off chops than usual, and far be it from me to swim against the tide… (And I certainly was swimming.) Wow, I am mixing my metaphors and it’s getting quite confusing… I can’t keep up with me. Here's a gratuitous superfluous picture of someone dancing:

Renee was funny and David was back and looking hot with big hair. So hot! J and I sat on the couch on the stage and giggled at their shenanigans for a while. Then J whirled-off to cha cha on the corner of the stage again – he’s not a bad dancer at all – quite camp with the cha cha moves and only occasional lawn-mower tendencies. Daniel had to leave at four precisely. I feel for him. His workplace doesn’t have a Divas time-off policy and he had to brave it on little-to-none. What an effort! Well, we’re all hard-working party animals. I think some people don’t appreciate how much energy and determination it takes to be this dedicated. To keep the dream alive.

But the dream was well and truly alive at Arq on Tuesday morning. Dan Murphy signing in his way to “don’t cry for me Argentina” in the box. Happy happy stupid stupid. I was the Fairy-k-Mother to a fair few and still have not seen the bottom!

BUT! (And yes, I know you’re exhausted just reading this, have a line. You gotta be on something to even read about this marathon weekend!) IT GOT CAMPER!

If Arq was a Campfire, then Stonewall was a Concentration Camp. The community had been distilled, fortified, into a single room with the windows covered in red paper. A horrible red light lit the upstairs, but the music was yellow and hot pink campness, as people filed in and filled the space, sitting on window sills, each other and the floor. And dancing and posing. Queens in ripped dresses and limp wigs, g-freaks lurching – one in pyjama pants and a Vote Tanya Plibersek tshirt! (I wanted to got up to him and say – you are bringing shame upon The Party!)

Two boys in tuxedo jackets and undies, one of whom kept “pointing” at Dan Murphy – how rude! And one boy tying up a g-freak next to us with electrical tape around feet and hands and over the mouth to sit in happy stupidity until Dan Murphy wanders up and politely suggests “Free the Refugees?” Classic.

Arq staff were interrupted to clean up some Arq mess in the toilets, but Renee was back and camp as soon as the problem was dealt with – well done. It was lovely to have her off duty, and to have J in fine form.

I took G (the person, not the drug) for his medicine and a fussing queen in the toilets yells out “This dress is the bain marie of my life!” The after-after-party continued in campness till midday and ended with an impromptu drag show from someone whose name I forgot who got up on a table in a full-length gown and fluffy slippers (heels discarded some time ago) and mimed, off-tits, to some extremely camp song that I don’t know but I’m sure I will by next year’s Divas. She nearly got knocked-off by various over-enthusiastic g-freaks – someone should put those ones on a leash, tie them to a rope-run or a hook in the wall… At the dramatic conclusion of the song she actually fell off. Cluttering to the floor onto a pile of fans.

And with that the Divas were over for me. (I chose not to go to the after-after-after-party, drinking at the Shift and getting aquainted with the assistant licencee instead, who was very interesting…) I had crashed the party rather successfully and next year I fully intend on attending the awards in a floor-length gown of my own.

Divas weekend made me realise one thing for sure. This is not a phase. I am camp and I must be with my own kind.

Vol-au-vents and My PhD Thesis

2005-08-19T13:39:00.000+10:00

Hello readers. This is a post to acknowledge the other side of my life, the currently neglected side - my academic work. This week I have actually got some done and so I want to post my chapter plan for my thesis. Any feedback or clarifications are totally welcome.

Other things on my mind at the moment are: what will I wear out on sunday night? And what hors d'oeuvres to make for Luke's wine and cheese evening... I'm thinking it's been a while since mini vol-au-vents... and pizza pinwheels might be nice... and of course dips and chesses... fruit platter? maybe that's just going too far...

anyway

Thesis Chapter Plan

The Beautiful Dregs: Chemical Palace and Sydney's Queer Dance Party Culture

The thesis as a whole will be about recording thebeginningss of the queer dance party culture we now have. Using Fiona McGregor's 2002 novel, Chemical Palace, I will consider various aspects of this culture as it was in the 1980s and 90s, finally coming to the questions: is this culture dying? and how has it changed?

1. Place - Chemical Palace as Queer Urban Geography

This chapter will be about Sydney, specifically Oxford St, Surry Hills, etc, and will look at the novel in relation to interviews and other info collected about the queer dance party scene in the 1980s and 90s. Painting a picture of thbeginningng of dance party culture as we know it now. It will consider the importance of geography in the novel, and talk about all the places where the novel is set - how have they changed? etc.

2. Music, Dance, Art and Costume-Making - Individual and Collective Joy

This chapter will be specifically about dance music, which is described in great detail in Chemical Palace, and about the "need" to dance that the novel talks about. This will be related to the novel's discussion of how important it is to create - costumes, dance parties, art and props, etc. It will record the DIY dance parties, raves and warehouse parties, etc.

3. Performance in Chemical Palace - Camp and 'Decadent Fetishism'

This chapter will look at camp culture, particularly the HIV-related performances and drag that feature in the novel. I will consider the kind of camp culture represented in the novewhetherhather it still exists today.

4. Intimacy, violence, comfort and disease - 'as if life was worth living only at the extreme'

This chapter will look at the sex, the BDSM, the disease and death in the novel, and the way in which the characters take care of each other like a family. A big queer family, when many of their biological families have forsaken them.

5. Drugs in the Novel - The Chemicals of Chemical Palace

Yay! Drugs had to come into it somewhere! This chapter will look at drug culture in the 1980s and 90s through to addiction addcition and drug use in the novel and ask questions about the role of drugs in queer dance party culture - then and now.

6. Nostalgia and Change - Is The Chemical Palace a Ruin?

This chapter will look at the book's nostalgia for the scene, for the time, for Sydney and consider how things have changed. It will consider the book as a piece of historical fiction, a record of the culture at that time.

CONCLUSION-------- what will I conclude? Who knows?!

Anyway,

So that's what I do when I'm not at Manacle or out getting trashed and shaking my butt. I hope this thesfinishedbe finsihed half way through 2007, and should be between 70, 000 and 100, 000 words long - that's a full book length. This is just a chapter plan at the moment and probably will change. These will not end up being the titles of most of the chapters. Also, I am supposed to have at least two chapters written before the semester ends... arrggghhh!

e

It's my birthday and I'll k if I want to...

2005-08-16T15:00:00.000+10:00

Hi all youse out there in blogland. How are you? No, I mean it, how are you all? I'm always talking about me, what about you?

If you are reading this blog, I'd love to hear from you. Please comment and just tell me how you are, what you been up to, how's your mother, how's your health, who the hell you are, etc.

That said, now let's talk about me. Well, not just me. Me and all of you wonderful people, all of you wonderful, crazy, delirious people. What a wild weekend! What a happy weekend. Actually, what an inspiring, sane and centering weekend. Can it be both? 'Cos it was - crazy and happy and grounding at the same time.

"Bent" (Manacle Day Club) turned two on sunday - I worked - hard. I wore my red and black Cyndi Lauper party dress - it is strapless, with a heart-shaped, low neak-line. I felt like I was going to a party, and I was! Our party.

Woops, I have no arms!

I have been at Manacle for about nine months and I was present for Manacle's 3rd birthday - see my post about that wonderful day. This was Day Club's birthday party, which also happend to correspond with Arq's 6th birthday party on sunday night. Pheww... will they ever let us rest?!

Luke, Daniel, Karin, Dave and other friends of mine mostly slept sat night and started on sunday morning at our party, going on to Arq's with a break in between to refresh. Manacle was at capacity and had some "fun" with licensing police but all worked out. Luke and Dave and Aaron and Daniel all hung out near the Club Bar where I was working for a lot of the time. Coat check got so full and crazy and I lost my first coat, but then I let the boy go in and he found it on the floor. It had fallen off. Anyway, because they were sitting near, even though I was working, I still could see them and hear their laughter and watch their silly flirting and stuff. L, D and A were all hussy, p-king, hugging happy boys - always good to see.

By the end of work, I was exhausted but really wanted to have drinks and stay for a while with the lasters. So I had drinks with Rowan, Logan, Brian, Luke (for a bit), Abo Winfrey, Jen and others. Jorja came down and joined in and that was really nice. I've got photos, including Rowan in drag

and Brian and Abo in my red wig that I loaned Rowan for the Birthday.

KOOKY - ARQ

Went home, fell asleep for about twenty mins in front of the heater then get dressed for Arq. Before Arq, we went to Kooky to see Khan DJ - he was very good and we danced. The crowd was a bit straight, so me and Luke high-tailed it to Arq after Khan's set. Khan and Rachel met us later at Arq. Even though Luke and I had been very organised, paying our entry to Arq and getting stamps before going to Kooky to avoid the queue, we still had to queue when we got there. Thankfully, not for long. Wait?! This is inane. Point is - Arq busy, big party, got in, crazy packed, had half pill, smiled like an idiot, music not so good after Murphy had finished - too much tribal and trance - much talking in Trash Alley, bitching about music, then chastising ourselves for being negative, praise for friends and discussion about how nice it is to have found quality* people to be surrounded by...

*Quality: I use the word "quality" not to denote that they are good looking, rich or popular or something, rather that they are caring, supportive of each other, interesting, honest and open - genuine people who bring happiness and good will to the space, generous people who's company makes others happy. You know who you are!

MONDAY DAY CLUB

So, as is often the case, just before seven you could see a congregation of Manacle regulars (parishioners waiting for their church to open) wandering around, looking eagerly at watches and each other. Out of the wild and into our lounge room. A slow start, relaxed and pleasant, thinking that I was winding down, but no. The second wind brought a lusty gust of camp into my good self, and friends were generous with our new friend Kitty - not that I need more than about four grains to be happy and stupid. Ah, happy and stupid...

Had some great talks with Daniel and John, Karen and Tris about themselves, their lives, friends, opinions on love, (gay) marriage, the scene, etc. Enlightening and interesting.

There were two happy k holes and some unexpected snogging (not me, although two naughty people tried to get me trasheder than I like). It was funny and sweet.

Afternoon was relaxed and chilled, spent time at A's apartment - lovely! Hospitable man. So much nicer than the Columbian!

DECKBAR

The stand-out performances at Deckbar were from DJ Chip, who played a really interesting set that took me and Rowan on a little journey. The music, particularly the first two thirds of the set had such a flow, the way it started in one place and took you into another, then another... and Abo Winfrey - air guitar, gospel preacher dance moves, Whitney eat your heart out!

Maz - pulled up a box to the DJ booth to be near Dan, stamping and clapping and singing his praises. I've never seen an arse move quite like hers! Kylie - hilarious! Luxuriating on the couch - being fun and dirty - she goes "I'm so hot right now, I'm a hamburger with the lot!" Talk about your hot beef injection! Thank God I don't indulge...

So, as is the want, Dan Murphy's set relied us all into a frenzy by the end. J and K and M and A W and the others laughing, playing and running around like maniacs. Abo yells out "pretend you're on drugs, everyone!" Hmmm. Josh fell off his chair laughing with his legs up in the air, everybody clapped. So many people in the toilets! Trikky scowling affectionately at the trashed ones and laughing at me after my two mini-bumps - stupid and happy!

Went to Stonewall for a couple, then went home - still slightly off chops, and fell asleep exhausted and feeling dreamy.

So much better this week due to these factors: 1. Good friends with good attitudes and kindness to share. 2. Less tina - a very cautious 1/2 point so as not to be awake longer than I like. 3. Grounding conversations with wise people - thanks John and Daniel.

Karin! Congratulations on the new job!!!!! It's so perfect and you are so perfect for it. I hope it all works out perfectly.

Daniel! Disappointment is just a bump in the yellow brick road of your life. Not to worry, soon there will be fire-works, soon lightning strikes and you'll be electrified! (Bumps aren't that bad anyway, eh?!)

Tris! You're hot! Keep up the good work. (I always depend on the campness of strangers...)

Luke! You have made leaps and bounds. Your increasing happiness makes us all happy. Looking forward to the birthday this weekend.

Dave! You trash! Happy birthday to you and all your minions. Hope you are well.

Dan! Thank you for what you have created. Not many people can shepherd such a wayward flock...!

Rachel! It was really good to hang with you for an extended time again. Hope you had fun. You and Khan are so trashy!

Rowan! Thanks for being solid and wonderful, and that little glimpse into your softer side. You are a true gem, Chip was right. A diamond in the rough.

Happy birthday all, and thanks for sharing.

PS: Abo: "I am bisexual - buy me a drink and I'll get sexual."

PPS: Kylie: "Somebody get the butcher 'cos I'm off my chops!"

PPS: Did anybody see that ad for the new "Total Girl" compilation - Kylie, Jamelia, Pink, Ashlee, Hilary, etc? It should be called "Total Gaybo" or "Totally Camp"! It even comes with a free lip gloss. How gay!

Whatever Happended To Baby Jane?

2005-08-10T22:39:00.000+10:00

Joan (Crawford) on Bette (Davis): "Poor Bette, it appears she's never had a happy day, or night, in her life!".
Joan: "Maybe they should put us in cages when they promote the picture".
Bette on Joan: "That bitch could cry on demand".
Bette on the making of Baby Jane: "That bitch hated working with me on Jane; and vice versa. She was a pain in the ass before, during and after the picture was made."

I finally got around to watching "Whatever Happended to Baby Jane" when Dave brought it over the other day. As you can see from the above interview excepts, Crawford and Davis hated each other the whole time. Which works well in the film.

The movie is quite disturbing as the two aging sisters battle with their loss of fame, their lonlienss and isolation, their resentments of each other. But the most disturbing thing is that I can identify with certain aspects of Jane's psychosis. Not the tying people up or serving rats for lunch, but her holding onto the past, her childlike optimism and delight, her obsessive attention to the props of her past happiness...

Her kind of blind belief that everything would be fixed if only Daddy were there, and her joy in dresses, dolls, bows, dancesteps and pretty lights.

If I go crazy one day, I have no doubt that I'll be an old baglady in high heel shoes and a diamonte tiara sitting in Central Tunnel drinking vodka, with a boombox playing "On a Night Like This". Annoying passers by about how "in my day" we used to dance for days on end, the music was happy, the drugs were better and I was beautiful God Damn It!

I was beautiful...

Whatever happended to that Emma, anyway?

Liz did it. So did I. What about you?

2005-08-09T16:36:00.000+10:00

Part Playful Kisser

Kissing is a huge game for you, a way to flirt and play
You're the first one to suggest playing spin the bottle at a party
Or you'll go for the wild kiss during a game of truth or dare
And you're up for kissing any sexy stranger if the mood is right!

Part Expert Kisser

You're a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantity
You've perfected your kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks off
And you're adaptable, giving each partner what they crave
When it comes down to it, your kisses are truly unforgettable

What Kind of Kisser Are You?

It's not all good.

2005-08-09T13:57:00.000+10:00

Too much tina is uuurgly!

I don't want to give the indication that my sun-mon was not fabulous (because it was, thanks mostly to Rowan, Nancy Boy*, Dan, Daniel, and Luke), but it's time I dealt with some serious issues here.

*Nancy Boy is the Arq merchandise beanie bear that I bought on monday morning before work. Rowan and I took him out for his first trashy day-night on the strip and he excelled even our high expectations of him, drinking shots and bumping k like a pro by the time Deckbar was through. (All subsequent Nancy Boy references are to this bear.)

Now I like drugs as much as the next Crucader of Camp, but really! Enough is enough! I mean sometimes you just gotta say "No", you know, cool it, can it, take a hike, hit the sack, let it go. I mean really.

Last night I watched the line between fun and pathos collapse in a messy drug-fucked heap with a couple of friends. We're talking bodies slowly falling apart, minds scattered after weeks of solid over-use. Finger-nails weakened, welts on the skin, weight-loss, mild psychosis.

Wake up to yourself! Go to bed.

Good intentions, ideas and plans, all fall apart as the last of the money goes into your tina pipe. You sell yourself short. You are pimping yourself for what? For shaking hands and stomach cramps, for hours of bordom and irritation, for exhaustion and emotional obliteration. You can't eat, you can't sleep any more. You only love tina, you only hate tina. The bitch, the slut, she has you on a leash. And I hate watching you hate yourself.

Some of you are just trash, rubbish, refuse - you are fucked up and selfish - you'll never change and I wash my hands of you. But most of you are lovely, misguided, weak maybe, but lovely, spirited and loyal. Shiney happy people when the night is at its peak - camp and funny, filling the world with wit and style, love and good-will - generousity. Most of you are just like me, and I could be you (I know that. I have no illusions about myself).

But it's not tina's fault, you know. She's acid, she's nasty, she's lovely, she's hot, but she's not evil.

Lonliness, desparation, bordom, disillusionment, depression. Tina just comes along and you fit her into the gaps. Then you forget why you liked her in the first place, how she made you smile, made you dance and shine... The bitch is pissing you off, but you just can't get rid of her. She's saying the same shit over and over again - B.A.N.A.N.A.S, B.A.N.A.N.A.S - you could go mad. But you're so used to the annoying bitch now, you can't imagine life without her. More tina will even you out.

(Yes, I listen to you, and I watch you, and I can see what you are going through.)

I am unsure how much I should/can care about the addicts. Nancy Boy has already learned to stop having tina at least 6 hours before he is going to want to go home. He has learned that eating her is safer and saner than smoking. That half a point is enough for two days out, and any longer out than that is special occasions only. (Such as Manacle and Arq's birthdays this weekend!) Sure, these might not be your limits... The important thing is to have limits. Ask yourself what will I be doing in the five-ten hours that she will be "inspiring" me? Is that what I want to be doing? Have a talk with yourself. You need to be able to get along.

Alright, now to the selfish, bitching side of things (sorry Ethan, who said that he likes me because I don't bitch about people):

You mess up MY night. You make messes in my space and in my way, you ask me for drugs when it's inappropriate, crass, and - yes - I am a snob, I don't like to see you acting that pathetic. I share everything, but only to bring happiness and fun. Why would I give you my drugs in the morning, when you are nearly falling asleep, trashed-out, used-up and dull? Why should I put another straw on your camel's back? I'd rather save those last two bumps of k for a fresh sunday night, with Dan Murphy on the decks at Arq, a new dress on, and fresh smiles at one in the morning - high-tide.

Drugs are a luxury, food and sleep are neccessities. Live a luxurious life - not hedonistic, not oblivious, destructive.

And stop giving the rest of us a bad rep. I like tina, and I'm not going to give her up just because you've made her look ugly, but sometimes I am a little embarrassed to be seen with her in public, because you've made her look like a monster.

Anyway, the upshot? The conclusion?

This Camp Crucader says, keep it simple, elegant, sophisticated, and a little bit fun. Wear a short skirt, but not too short. Wear comfortable shoes that also look gorgeous. Love yourself, and laugh at yourself. Love your friends, but don't let them take you for a ride. Be strong and canny, but not hard and cyncial. Find a balance, be proud of yourself, fall off the wagon every now and then but get back on. Believe in love, and see it in everything.

Dance like a maniac.

Black will always be the new black.

Bitter-sweet Pills and K-robics!

2005-08-02T21:36:00.000+10:00

What a strange weekend. Saturday started it off with a nice day at work followed by Khan's leaving drinks :-( I had never intended getting trashed but Lil R was at dayclub and when I finished we went for a visit to a friend (a visit involving a tutorial in the standard way of hanging with our good friend, T). So then we all got a little happy and went to Green Park hotel. I felt really good.

Rachel and I played pool and it was really nice to hang with her again. I was sad that Khan was leaving Manacle and I got a little teary. He was always the person who was nice to me and gave me advice on how to get along in the industry - on the strip. And lots more.

It can be a tough world, actually... but enough of that, anyway! On with the story:

I got trashed - too trashed. And found myself in a misunderstanding. I know it's probably my own fault, but it is still a bitch to have had to go through it. Sunday at work I felt like I was going to die (terrible hangover) and I thought about quitting. But Khan was right, it all looked a bit better by the end of the day, and by the time I was changed into a pretty dress and dancing at Kooky, I was feeling entirely wonderful - beyond any hope or expectations I'd had for this sunday.

I just couldn't stop moving. I felt so at home in my own body and I didn't care who was looking at me. I was shaking my ass 'cause it felt good. I probably looked like a total bimbo, but I honestly don't care. I needed to feel fabulous again. To wash that horrible day right outa my hair.

Rachel, Dave and I went to Arq which was ok. Nothing special, just a bit of a boogy and some typical Arq wandering and chatting to people. I really enjoyed the balcony - watching people and the crowd bouncing around. And dancing downstairs to the funkier music... For some reason (probably that my body remembered sunday's hang-over!), I just didn't feel like drinking and so I didn't get my usual Smirnoff black or two at Arq - just had red water and a kinda chilled-out time. Pleasant.

BUT DAYCLUB ROCKED MY KASBAH!

Because of ToyBox being on sunday, various true believers had taken monday off work and were to be found still ripping up the floor at Manacle - or at least standing around, smoking and chatting and laughing downstairs. Crowd was bigger, prettier and had more stamina.

Dayclub continued to build and get a very good crowd for a monday. D was there with friends, including K, and I chatted to him and stuff. Then I decided to try some of the little baggie that I had been holding onto - waiting for the right time. The baggie contained a few bumps and had been given to me as a "losing my k virginity" gift. I decided that, as I was sober, safe and among friends, it would be a perfect opportunity to have my first bump. I was very careful and only had a small one - two friends indulged in support (separate cubicles, of course) and then we hit the floor.

Welcome onboard the mothership k, we hope you enjoy your ride with us this evening...

After just little while, I began to feel warm and kinda flushed, and kinda short of breath, but in a good way. Like being excited. Then I started to smile and the world went a little fuzzy but, once again, in a good way. It's hard to explain the effects aside from that, and it made everything seem humourous and very pleasant. Songs I wouldn't normally get excited about had me throwing my arms in the air, and I was struck with the desire to jump around and do aerobic-style dance moves. (I later found out that this was the phenomenon referred to as K-robics, and is a common and ridiculously fun side effect...)

The best thing, though, was that I was among good, camp company. Not only did my friends provide sound advice on effective and safe usage (I didn't know very much), they also made it a wonderful place to be - A place where smiles flow freely and silly dancing is rewarded with many rounds of applause. The day's sport was in finding, naming and demonstrating common dance-moves that people do. From the "doing up a seat belt" to K's hilarious "riding a horse at high speed", we covered lazy dancing - "the rag doll", and over-the-top dancing - "drying your butt with a towel" (I am guilty of having done that for most of the time this sun/mon, even at Stonewall - Retro Night - to things like Madonna's "Cherish" and Blondie's "Atomic"). I musn't forget the various skipping rope dance moves and, of course, "swinging the towel around above your head after you've dried your butt with it". The three of us doing Beyonce's chest thrust must have looked hilarious to any onlookers. (I quickly abandoned that after deciding there was entirely too much reverberation in the chest area - where's my sports bra?!)

I must take the time to mention Chip's dj-ing, which was wonderful and took me on various journeys. Being able to smile at him in the dj booth and watch his dance-moves is always entertaining and felt especially fun on k. I am sure I had a stupid grin on my face for much of his set. (Oops, no need for paranoia! ;-)

C was charming at Stonewall, reminiscing about clubbing in 80's and extreme make-ups they used to wear. I absolutely HATE reggae, but found myself enjoying it at that time due to the conditions. Shame on me. Never again. My inner twinkky gayboy is slapping me in the face...

I went home at about 4am after I had danced to "Total Eclipse of The Heart" and had an "Up and Go". Slept for 11 hours and then woke up feeling good.

It's important to know when it's time to go to sleep. I am happier when I have not spent too much time with Tina. The fun will still be there, the music doesn't go away.

Monday's Dayclub lasted for 2 hours longer than usual and was rocking 'till the end. Arq staff and trashbags making the move upstairs to dance to the last few songs and "Filthy Gorgeous" ending with a round of applause (Alsop was also excellent) and shouts of "encore". He played a couple more songs and then they kicked us out into the street to stumble down to the Columbian.

The Columbian was funny. I am surprised they let us in any more considering how rude we are about everything. "The music sux", "let's go to Deckbar", "This place sux", "Deckbar, deckbar, deckbar", R knocked over her beer and blamed it on her jacket, M left after deciding she was too drunk. I think she's quite friendly when she's drunk.

Deckbar had a really nice group of people but when we expected the music to go up, it didn't. Shame on the council/police/residents/whoever it was. Dan Murphy must be heard! I like to hear Dan's grooves spilling out onto the street and into the night. Warming everything, making it electric. Hope we can come to a compromise with whoever the powers that be are. We wait and see.

Anyway, prognosis is - k is very nice. Like pills, you wouldn't want to take heaps and heaps of it - too draining maybe. Best used alongside other stuff for a part of your night/day. For a tranquiliser it sure brings on a lot of merriment and frivolity, and hyperactivity - yay!

Prognosis two (I already knew this but was reminded) - special Monday Dayclubs rock! Dayclubs on a long weekend, Monday Dayclubs after Mardi Gras, Sleaze, etc. The next one is my birthday - Sleaze weekend. I should start thinking about what to wear now. I plan to skip Sleaze (maybe) and party in the morning and all through the day recoveries. Hmmm. Ideas. Ideas.

Anyway, this is Camp crusader number two, signing off after touchdown from mothership k.

PS: I love my life!

Uneducated?

2005-08-02T18:04:00.000+10:00

Here I am in my graduation gown - 2004. The "hood" for BA graduates is rabbit fur. My vegetarian girlfriend was, of course, horrified, and I did consider the fake fur alternative... but you couldn't even call it an alternative! The fake fur hoods were so horribly and cheaply made that they looked like some kind of supermarket santa clause beard. Anyway, aren't rabbits an introduced species and a pest? I'd like to say that's why I allowed the nice ladies in graduation gown hire store to put that real fur on me, but to tell you the truth, I just didn't want to look cheap and nasty (for once;-).

This blog was recently referred to as "uneducated". A comment I find somewhat bemusing and certainly problematic. In Australia, if a person cannot speak English but can speak three Asian languages and play the violin, we will still call them uneducated and talk to them like they are an idiot. If a street kid who is 18 writes at a 10 year old level, but knows how to survive the winter in Sydney, where to find food, money, how to be pretected, we still call them uneducated. That's ignorance, which is a particularly insidious "uneducation". Couple it with arrogance, and you have an asshole (and not in the good Las Vegas way).

I'll let youse in on something a bit personal - I go clubbing for two reasons - to dance and to get an education.

Dancing is the most wonderful thing you can do with your body, just like sex can be. You can learn so much about yourself, you can move in ways that make you feel inexplicably good. Dancing is deviant, joyous and good for your body and mind. Dancing is empowering and self-expressive.

When I am not dancing (and sometimes also when I am), I am learning - mostly about people. I talk to people, listen to people, watch people live their lives and interact with each other. I love the jokes and the stories, the different languages different people use to talk to each other. I love to step outside my own shoes and see how other people move through the world. I love to see other people's passions, their pain and their survial techniques.

I find drugs really interesting - from a scientific, social and medical perspective, as well as physically. I have learned a lot about drugs - what they can do to body and mind, what they can do for groups of people, for social spaces.

I find music really interesting - in terms of how different types of music make groups of people interact differently. We are so affected by music - more on this at another time.

I have just written a draft of an abstract for submission to a Australian Literary journal called New Talents. It is basically about Sydney from the perspective of queers and drug takers. The article will explore geography - the urban landscape, Oxford St, the Cross, the inner-city.

If you are interested in this, or the article I am working on which is about tattoos, you may visit my other blog - linked as PhD blog in links list to see my ideas and workings.

This blog, however, will remain "superficial", gay, drug and dance obsessed. Faaaabulous!

e

PS: Some of the most educated people I know are the ones that need an education. Lesson number one - respect difference. Your culture, your religion, your ideals, your life - your world view is just one among millions.

PPS: k rocks! My next post will explain.

Vintage Lesbian Porn and Sound Bites!

2005-07-26T20:55:00.000+10:00

This picture is funny because it's so dramatic! You can just pciture the silent-movie close-up "gasp!" as one of their husbands with his thin moustash comes and in in a fit of rage...

Diabolical!

Jorja just fixed my little issue I was having with uploading pics. Apparently I had been automatically blocking pop-up windows... Go figure.

So more pics are coming your way now! Check out the vintage soft-core porn.

Help. PS. Here is an experiment with sound.

sound

Mini Murphy

2005-07-26T09:25:00.000+10:00

During a disappointing set from another DJ, I turned to Ben (checkered hat) and said "This music is crap right now. Where's the party?" He responded simply by pointing to his head and smiling that knowing smile of his (meanwhile he's boppping in an inspired way).

At this point I realise that what I need is a Mini Murphy - a tiny little portable Dan Murphy, decks and all, to DJ in my head when other music will not satisfy.

A night should never wind-up with cold, euphoric "progressive" house! Mr Murphy brings the warmth in and keeps you going until the very end. Till they kick us out or we fall over! There is unmatched optimism and happy energy in his work. When Dan Murphy smiles, the whole world smiles too.

I ask Rowan where one might aquire a Mini Murphy, he suggests EBAY.

Frida on a Stick

2005-07-26T09:08:00.000+10:00

The Frida-shaped hole in the universe was apparent to me first last night at DeckBar when I went into the toilets. The last few DeckBars I have gone into a cublicle and could just tell from the way she moves and breathes, etc, that Frida was in the other one. I'm like "That you Frida?", "Yep", "Faaabulous!".

A few stumbled crashing steps and giggles and we tumble out of the separate cublicles. Conspirators in fun.

David (cheerleader, skirt boy) said that he's going to pretend she's not gone by spreading rumours and talking about her like she's still here : "Did you see what Frida was wearing last night?!" Oh. What a lovely boy.

I couldn't help it, but in my altered state I was reminded of a come-down at Hordern St, onto our second (?) bottle of vodka and I was talking to Sabrina (trash) and Luke was bored. He got so shitty with me not talking to him and flirting with that hussy that he got a paper bag and put it on a stick with a face drawn on it to entertain him.

(I later killed Bag-On-A-Stick in a jellous flurry, for which Luke has never truly forgiven me.)

When I suggested to Frida that I would have to make a Frida-On-A-Stick to take to Arq and Manacle, she said herself that we should make it drop every now and then! Priceless.

The Deep Shit

2005-07-26T08:35:00.000+10:00

As usual, another sunday/monday fiasco results in a steep learning curve or two. Today's first lesson was "I believe in me". I proved to myself that I can be out on my own terms without Luke, Dave, Rachel, etc. Without a security blanket. This was a difficult lesson to learn when we have established a culture of communal partying that can sometimes be restrictive but is also supportive.

Then there's the question of how "real" it all is - these clubbing relationships, moments, etc. (This is a question I have major issues with in the first place - philosophically - what is "reality", etc.) Frida's going-away showed me that the scene can spawn tenderness, kindness and very genuine emotion. I firstly see the good in most people and hope for them to be all that I know they can be. This leaves me open to disappointment at times or being used by trashbags - the generousity thing, etc, but it also means I am open to getting to know more people. I get along with a wide plethora.

Today I saw into so many lives more candidly, and some people explained some things to me in a way that really helped.

It is amazing sometimes how naive I can be. Five minutes later and I still think J + C are going to "put out the rubbish at Manacle"! (Of course I am fairly trashed at said time, but really!) I am so dumb! People are going to have to start winking at me so I realise they are joking/being sarcastic/cryptic, etc.

Deckbar was a lot of fun again and a nice way to spend time drinking silly drinks (Long Island Iced Teas, etc) with people outside of the dark, smokey, flashy lights club atmosphere.

Mr McCosker made a fabulous debut and was delightful.

The usual suspects swanned around, skwarked like crows, or sat under the heaters with four-days-up blank looks on their faces. You could love it or hate it. It's all about whether you love yourself.

Jorja came to DeckBar after uni and got to the drinking with C and J. Much fun and frivolity was had by all.

But it was more than just fun this weekend. Be as cynical as you like, but there really was love in the air. Love everywhere. So many nice hugs and touches - sustaining, inspiring.

Yo, Check this out!

2005-07-19T21:31:00.000+10:00

Because I am currently too dumb (read: lazy) to figure out how to edit my side bars, please check out the following blogs, which will soon be in my links list.

Liz - littleredcourgette.blogspot.com
Daniel- danielmccosker.blogspot.com
Dave - sockpuppetmanifesto.blogspot.com
Luke - absolutepiffle.blogspot.com
Louise - pleasetoberestful.blogspot.com
Justin - robot-hell.blogspot.com

Happy reading!

Photos

2005-07-19T19:10:00.000+10:00

Here is a random photo... (As you can see I've just learned how to upload them.) It's me getting ready for Sleaze 2003 (I think it was 2003). Look how skinny I am!