morbidhippie's diary

morbidhippie's Diaryland Diary

- 2004-05-21 12:51 a.m. and so i can't sleep.

not sure why exactly.

it's not for lack of trying.

yes, early again.

perhaps thats the problem.

so i decided to put some clothes on

take advantage of dan the couch man not being here

connect to the internet, put my earphones in and turn portishead up reeeeeeeeal loud

and here i am.

and i sat on my bed and wrote four pages before.

maybe just an hour ago.

i've no recollection of what i wrote.

things in general.

general.

take a ride

take a shot now

i drank half a bottle of wine..

now i'm over it and i'm drinking coffee

hoping i'm not going to hold on

to loose ends

for too long.

i'm going to

sell

this electric guitar thats just been Sitting in my room for 2 years

and i'm going to buy my

Splendour

ticket

and prepay for my copy of the much anticipated a-ha-her

or however

she's spelling it

my lips sting.

my brother forgot

the money

banks are closed tomorrow

she'll have to wait another couple of days

not my fault this time

dead as a door nail

knob

what is a door nail

i like to use lines

when i'm writing pen on paper

i like

columns

i like

pages split into sections

(not before writing, just as it comes)

i like having to find

your own way

around the words

trying to match up

sentences

i like emphasis

on certain words.

i like Capital Letters

in the right places

most effective

i like clever intertwining of song lyrics

other peoples words making love with my own

i just adore forgotten words

forgotten moments

and the truth is

i'd be content

well, if i had an idea of a heaven

i would like it to be a place where

you could pick

a day

or a time

to rewind to

and live

over and over and over again

not to change anything

just to be there

again.

i would live the 5th of may

over and over

spilt blood and all, sleeping unsatisfied and all

i would.

i don't

want to hurt you.

all the bloodshed

what could be more appealing than oblivion

benny

do you worry sometimes?

do you worry..

guilty of fear

scared of what

we're

craving

i worry

sometimes

sometimes i just

smile.

and kind of

float

for awhile

long forgotten dream.

and i don't want to get too ambitious

don't want to

place too much

trust

or hope

in one (or any)

direction

been let down you know...just a couple of times

more often than not.

cautious

wary

safety

defense

mechanisms

poisonous glands under skin

don't bite

too hard

don't break

please

broken

already

she was broken

she said

when i found her.

it's not my fault.

it was like that before.

and he was running as though something was physically chasing him but

you know

it was just his own fears

catching up with him

past mistakes

can come back

and haunt

just like

that bad smell

that dead frog in the drain

she was on her knees by her side

crying and praying and asking for help

because this girl needed guidance but she couldn't give it to her as much as she wished that she could

(please, could you stay awhile?)

all she could do

was cry

wash the blood off with her tears

and the bottom of her skirt

muddy

as it was

barefeet

she still has those flowers in her hair

and the stars in her eyes

have exploded.

supernova.

wandering stars

once recovered she would forget the moment passed and forget the tears and prayers

wander on through days endless days it seems

space jaunt

time warp

walking down a street one day if i saw you there would you stop

and talk

doubled up

inside

would you share the grief

would she turn and stare and scream at your face

there's the asshole that did this to me.

slilt her wrists right in front of you

right there on the street

like every girl just carries a razor blade in her pocket

or should

anyway

and they stole the car and decided to drive to adelaide because they

didn't really know much about south australia

but they got bored

of that direction

so turned around and opted for rainforest sunny north queensland instead

got lost in the daintree

swam in the scenery

started fires

just to put them out

burn shit down

just to clean it up

sweep the ashes

crumble

isn't it amazing

how all these big big things

can be reduced to

soot

so easily

flick of a wrist

could end the world

mind boggling.

we all breathe the same air.

and when we look up

the same sky

do you see the same stars

as me?

do you think if i scream loud enough

you'll hear

she'll hear he'll hear it

come running

tell me you know what to do.

give me an offer to good to refuse.

bleed through

beaten

i wrote about kicking her in the teeth

you can close your eyes and wish yourself to anywhere but guaranteed when you open them

again

the landscape will be just the same.

just the same.

no amount of wishing

is going to wish you dead.

lethargic.

i'm ever so lost.

you know i can't find my way.

it becomes colder once one realises just how utterly alone

she and the other billions of people are

and all this spinnnig around towards nothing

all this wasted orbit

all this nonsense

you make no sense

i can't understand myself

never could.

who would want to.

self rejection

could've should've would've been more you know

if you didn't waste it all

on time spent alone

useless indulgence

wasted wasted wasted space

breath

intelligence

waste.

flush.

swallow

he said

swallow it down

and i never had a problem

with the taste it was rather

just the way it would

stick

you know

catch in my throat

you taste like health

to me

and when i said i could kiss her all she said was i know

and you know she would wrap me up

she knows how to tread lightly

she knows when to push the tender spots

i said

one night

she makes me ache

in the best possible way which reminds of

biting

and the most pleasurable kind of pain.

and i find it sad now

that it's hard to imagine

it hurts to imagine

really physically sitting

naked

on top of anyone else

knowing anyone elses

hair

and

movements

and subtle hints

and breaking points

and favourite places.

stoned.

yes

it's sad.

even you.

can you penetrate

is it worth it

nothings worth it

$3 or more

surely that ain't right.

and i pushed disease and bad health

onto him

forced bad habits and a strange mistaken silence

i just like to watch you know.

i love to watch.

voyeurism

baby you know theres nothing wrong with that

you know we're a generation full of it.

darling

because i know i'm going to miss things

and theres an air of finality surrounding

encompassing

enveloping

everything.

and hope

hope is dull

faded

dusty

old and worn

and this finality

i don't know what it's for

i don't know where it's going or what to

think

of it but

maybe if i just roll with it

i think rizla

are onto something

with that

such peculiar timing you know

i love the way

memories come back like photgraphs

vignettes

and i have a vegetarian politically minded best friend

losing himself in the same city

that i've wandered

all brown skirts and brown shirts

tasting like coffee

and smelling like sex and cigarettes

with wings on my docs and

vocal chords

in my heart

she's a trained opera singer

in moments like those

i love the way

people

can be just a wealth

mint

goldmine

thought

words ideas misconceptions so much room for imagine

fantasy is so

flexible

isn't it

if i don't like something

i can

subtley

(is that a word?)

but effectively

air brush over it

slight blemish

altering perfection

designing

perfection

oh ha.

what do you know of that?

i have the idea of it

therefore it must exist

just like santa clause

and happily ever afters

once upon a time

once

a time

once up on a table i danced just like a gypsy i was unaware i was

untainted by eager lustful eyes i was

feet and rhythm and hips

and twirling hands

and half closed eyes you know those sweet little smiles

seed of fuck.

in not too long now

it will be a year you know

since i walked into a little room

my sister was by my side and a friend of hers

was in there too along with

a really upset solitary asian girl

blonde jodi bailey esqu type girl with her boyfriend and mother

we had a converation

a little later on all

bright yellow sarongs

and old magazines

i had a book with me

teaching eastern philosophy through winnie the pooh though somehow

on that monday

grey

it was a grey

monday

i was uninterested

in the tao

of things

and an indian man mumbles about what will happen to me and brings up on a screen

some picture that i don't want to allow my eyes to focus on

some image

of something

apparantly

inside of me

growing

we're about to kill it.

and a man saying just look at this light and hold that ladies hand

(this is the beginning)

and i was dreaming

drifting

(move on)

death.

myne.

wake

flowers

familiar

feels like 7 years old right now

feels like being a little girl i'm so warm wrapped up in here i must;ve taken the day off school where's mum?

whats this thing

in my underwear

whats that feeling

in my stomach

father i

sold my monkey.

sandwhich in a coffee

theres a book and some girls compare these nurses to angels of sorts and say they owe their lives

and happines

to them

forever in debt.

just forever grateful

for the option.

and she lets the cd begin again.

it's 1:45

i don't care if you've stopped reading

i just need to write this

and i remember passing notes

hiding from mr o'leary and thinking mr doyle was just grand

i remember grade 5 and 2 weeks afternoon detention

how cool i felt

to be leaving school at 4 o'clock

most of teachers had even gone home

what a rebel i was

pacing the wheelchair ramp

up and down up and down someone should be here soon, no thank you i'm fine

wanting to catch

the smoking of a cigar

bitten on the nose by a dog

that i was teasing

fake roses placed in a nextdoor neighbours letter box

and charges laid

against a best friends

and lovers

as far as lovers go

when you're 7

and both girls

(although i remember a huge night spent in my parents bed with her while they were in sydney. her name was charlotte. she liked to experiment with different tastes. and think about johnathon taylor thomas. or was it macauly calkin? well now i can't remember.)

she had blonde hair

the kind that would go green in summer because we'd be spending so much time

in the pool in my backyard

and freckles

and one of those brown

beauty spots

hmm where her

right

leg

met the rest of her body.

right there.

i can remember it.

i often wonder

if it became something that she would

worry

about.

the first beautiful woman

i was ever involved with

was Evita Ann March

and she truly was beautiful

air

a floating graceful slender pixie of a girl

she was always right at my fingertips but somehow desperately out of reach

we'd play barbies together

make believe happy families

(neither of us had one, although i wasn't really aware of that at this point)

and i remember having her

on her mothers bed

and in her sisters bed

and in the hall

and on the stairs

maybe twice

and on the sofa bed

countless times

and in the pool

hmmm and in the middle of a grand big tree

that was in coolum maybe

or noosa

i'd like to go there again.

and so many times while her sister was right there

seventeenth of february.

she maybe had a slight lisp or something

ohh

she couldn't say 'th'

it was 'f'...

fumb

free

(yes. amanda. ann hatchard? 17 Feb)

thom says

shhhhhh

quietly

before he starts to sing

everythaaannng

(in it's right place)

just him

and a keyboard

and a stomping foot

by the sounds of things

i find such sex

in his voice and ugly lazy eyed face sometimes

isn't that funny

somethings can do that to you

i suppose

and am i closer to sleep?

well i'm not sure

i almost don't think so

i wish they would come here

i wish i knew

i used to feel

nothing at all

and the clock says 1:59

i say lets go down a waterfall

have myself a good time it's nothing at all

what would i do.

now just stop.

lets not see such a horrid mood change

i hear a girls voice

and i take out my earphones and of course theres nothing there

the dull loud silence of a sleeping dark house

still the voices!!

this is not the first time.

i disagree with them

they're so faint

can't make out what they're saying you know but i hear their tones and t's chaotic

just playing tricks

just trying to get the better of me

and i've a craving for this version spinning plates i have on tape like you would not believe

she has an american accent and she says i pity them because they dress the same

and if a werewolf is hungry then what are you going to do

lay down and let it feast on you or say wait here i'll bring you something even better i'll bring a whole fucking army worth of flesh and blood

would you rather lose your life trying to find it another meal

or by surrendering

your very self

to dirty teeth and bad breath

and to be touched lightly

to cease the fluttering, cease the movement

(she just told me to run in front of a car)

to be touched in the centre

to be touched where it counts and to not have to say a word

while you make pretty speeches

and maybe it's easy to think if all those times

i hadn't just sat there and thought about slit wrists and silence and sinking into furniture and wishing i was invisble

things would've worked out a little differently

they must hate it

isn't her prescence like a ghostly reminder of whats waiting for you if you should choose to yeild to it

and i miss the words of a toothless poet for no reason whatsoever except maybe his contact and his absent presence were comforting in a way

his location perhaps