Suffocating

How did she fall from grace so quickly? From happiness, bliss and free dom to fear, anxiety and loathing in just a matter of hours.

The eyesight is hazy, she feels panic comming on. "I'm going blind" she thinks. "Blind just like him..." "Then what? do i become bitter and needy also?"

But she is bitter and needy and she knows it. Lack of love and true frienship has brought down harsh reality in floods. Waves of nausea clinging to childhood comforts. Why cling to this life that offers so little?

No home. No love. No career. What would the child think of her looking forward in time? Loser. Wasted loser no goals no ambitions just waiting for someone or something to set her free.

"Take me away. Please."

Gentle Rain

The View:

Courtship, friendship and financial harship all sit in her minds eye awaiting her constant attention. Instead she watches the rain and feels warm inside. Not happy nor sad she just is.

Time to buy more shoes she ponders. For the Mud. Childish glee flashes in her eyes as she plans her trek to the mud with reckless abandon.

Serenity and mud. Ohhh how she pines! Take off the shoes and squelch her toes and dance in the mud. Throw sticks in the stream and watch them race to a windy demise. Heavy dewy drops falling from leaves and plomping in her hair. Let loose let go. No ones watching, no ones commenting, no one here to give a damn just be free! The fantastic fantasy makes her smile from the bottom of her belly.

The waiting is almost over. Rejoice the faery goes home!

The torment begins

The view is hazy, unclear and distressing.

The nightmare reached climax in the furnace of dreams. Too much pressure and no release. Fallen too hard too soon. No love, no chance of reciprocation. Games, anxiety, fear, guilt. Anger.

Her home ruined. Her friendships never the same. Time to escape.

Exit stage left even. But how?

Surgical Sunset

Shes standing at a bus stop waiting in always uncomfortable shoes. 'Scuse Me' asks about the bus and the beach. Hes's on a journey to his last sunset and is frustrated by age and inability. Help is given and hope passed on and she will never see Scuse Me again but he will see his last sunset. Perhaps he is already gone.

Emotions torment the return of a different beast. One more sleep and then what will she do? Perhaps the lillies will come.

Beneith the stars

Beneith the stars, cold and blurred she is englufed with youthful freedom.
The life created thus far, satisfactory, the moment created thus far exemplary.
Life is fullfilling she says to the warm hand engulfing hers. Friendship.

Watching over in cruel irony is the encroaching counter balance she has seen looming. Instability. Determined not to lose the warmth within. "I am strong" she reiterates. "Stronger than ever before."

Nevertheless the instablility worms its way in. Bringing memories with it in flashes of sadness, unwholesome dispair.

A rush of air. The weight of a balanced exertion, powerfully counterbalanced, yet devastating to an unwelcome opponent. The balance is necessary, it is part of the punch. This time use a sinewave for good measure.

For the love of making love?

So, until now this new blog has been simply a place for me to write in stream-of-conciousness to outlet some of the convoluted patterns that churn in my mind daily. Today however the view from my window is tainted with clarity and a complete lack of creativity. This taint, brought on by a weekend charged with heady emotions has left me feeling too firmly planted in reality to serenade in fantasy.

So what do I do? I guess its time to take part in what bloggers do best... Social commentary!

But what subject to select? I am so heavilly opinionated in so many ways where could I possibly start? My first opinion piece should be bold, dynamic and thought provoking, but quite frankly I'm just not pissed off enough by anything at the moment. Sure I feel the urge to gouge out the eyes of random unsuspecting sportspersons every time news of Wayne Carey or whatever over respected, overpublicised ball kicking moron is plastered across each and every bloody 'news' broadcast, sure I have an opinion on day-light savings, George Bush, global warming, whaling, home ownership, the resource boom and human rights, but today I think I want to express my feelings on a subject that is not a major international event or an issue debated for centuries by the scholars of the world. I want to talk about boys and girls and that fascinating basis of humanity, what happens between them... Sex.

As a single woman I find sex is increasingly becomming a focal point of my life. Not in an obsessive way but just in the sense that it is the underlying factor in all social activities... Its in every pub, club, event, class & dinner party. I know I berate my 'coupled' friends for having boring life focal points like home renovations and tupperware but perhaps I am the boring one for spending so much time focusing on sex?!

Go to a party to meet... boys. Go to a night club to dance in an ill-fitting far-too-much-cleavage showing outfit to ... meet boys. Read books based on romanticised conflict resolution where in the end the girl gets the... boy. Watch tv where the ads and shows all tell me that the answer is to be sexy. Its so in your face and so ever present that quite honestly I'm starting to get bored of it.

Now sure, I think sex is a great thing and as most people, enjoy doing it, but I'm starting to think that we are expending way too much energy on the procurement of this act.

And it seems that sex in its basic sense is not even good enough any more. We have to have a repetoire of multiple partner sex, tantric sex and same gender sex. But at the same time still being lady-like and not being seen as too promiscuous.

I was in a nightclub on saturday night (not my normal idea of a good saturday night but there was a particular boy... of course!) so, this nightclub was full to the brim with young adults, 18 and 19 years old mostly when the DJ spun up a song with a huge base line complimented by the very subtle repetative lyrics 'I wanna fuck you, fuck you'. These lyrics were sung out loud by most of the men in the room and mimed by most of the women as we all gyrated like a huge primal seething mass of hormones and fleshy bits.

Now I'm no angel, but that song made me feel like painted over exposed meat and very quickly the whole experience became less about dancing a little bit alluringly for a guy I wanted to impress and became just plain ugly.

I just wonder how many young girls in that room got that 'fuck' they were supposedly after and if it was as good as the Libra Fleur advertisements had lead them to believe it would be...

Dichotomy of emotion (Part 2)

A mighty warrior has fallen as harsh frailty reins triumphant.

Rejoice for the freedom of a charecter bound by cruel reality, a reality that had no place for this not-quite mortal soul.

Lamentation for a friend not quite made. An aquaintence lost to antiquity, a hero none the less.

Goodbye story teller, wize cracker, vindicator and matriach.