Ode to Bestie.

I have been facing a fierce case of the mean reds lately, and no matter how colossal the urge to open up my lungs and belt out "YOU LOOK LIKE A DUDE! QUIT OVERCOMPENSATING!" is...I'm going to be thankful.

I opened a box from Thailand at work today. Inside I found a letter. It read:

"Dear Sirs,
1x 8043 needs to be repaired before it is selt.
By the way, how long have you been writing to me?"

In a job as meaningless as mine is it's nice to see a little humour from a stranger-in a Joey Comeau kind of way.


I selected my units for my last semester at University of Canberra today. If I finish my degree in Melbourne I will have been to three schools in three years. Yeesh. I'm glad I left art school though. I somehow knew sound scapes of magpies weren't my calling...
I'm thankful all the hot cats are finally joining me at uni. It's about time! I can't wait to have afternoon beers with them as we move into Spring. I'm also incredibly excited to get back into my overpriced pens/spending excess $$$ on Moleskine journals addiction. It's sad how much I enjoy neat handwriting and taking notes.
I'm looking forward to going back, even if it means being in Belcompton on a weekly basis. I hope Laurence and Jacob don't shout their postcode at me everyday.

I started listening to Danielson again last night. I remember standing along the brick wall in a tiny venue in New York last year, in awe of the band's costumes and how warm the room felt. Nobody was rude, everyone stayed in their place and listened. It was the perfect way to spend the night before Christmas. I'm glad my Jersey friend Vince was there and that we saw Sufjan Stevens hop into a cab.
I particularly like the lines "bring on the fatted calf and let all have a feast. This son of mine once was dead, but now is alive again." It's probably more to do with the way his voice sounds with those words.

Now, what I am most grateful for is my lady pack. What good-looking humans with good, honest hearts.















&so many more.
Thanks for existing!

It's my blog and I'll cry if I want toooo.

I'm feelin' a little rude this evening and sense some brainal leakage (arharar) coming on:
-I feel intense pangs of anxiety, jealousy, nostalgia and I'm also incredibly grateful. Each emotion feeds off the one before it. I'm only twenty and I've never felt so old and tired. God, I have made some mistakes in my life and probably haven't learnt from half of them. Only I must have been doing something right over the last couple of months, because it seems I've ended up with this heart-stopping group of people around me. Some of them willing to punch, drive and listen to hours of smack that comes out of my mouth for me. FOR FREE. Maybe I was a rad person in another life. I'm going to miss them when I move to Melbourne.

-I cannot wait for my Melbourne trip next week. Maybe getting away from this town will give me perspective. Or a hangover. I'm looking forward to SHOUTING SONGS AT REALLY GIRLY GIGS and spooning my bestfriend. I'd really like to go back to The Yellow Bird on Chapel street and drink $5.00 pints and sink into velvet couches. I'm too excited to see my Mia Kitty and Kelly. They are both Betty Page babes and I want them in all their pin-up girl glory. I am allowing myself one night of total chaos and rowdy behaviour to heal my little souuuuuul. I deserve it, yes I do. I also want a hug from Daisy and to lay in the grass with Lauren, sorting out brains out like we always do. I want to see James and Soph and eat dumplings and drink gin in the city.
This makes me even more excited to move. I don't know how anyone could pass up that place.

-I love being young with my whole heart. I love that the only serious ball and chain I have in my life is my iPhone plan. I can stay at university for another five years and it wouldn't even bother anyone. I can drink on a daily basis and it's just uni life (not actually that tough.) I can go dancing and yell lyrics and throw fists of glitter and it's a normal weekend.
I was told by a man on my last birthday that nobody takes you seriously until you're thirty. Apparently it only gets better as you get older. I highly doubt this. I'm in a position where I can do what I want, without too much responsibility. Very little is expected of me and I'm down with that.

-I'm tired of being nice. I'm pretty good at articulating my emotions and I'm painfully honest. I'm not saying I'm a good person all the time, but I make HUGE efforts with people sometimes and usually come out feeling worse than they do...Or so it seems this year. Those efforts don't seem to come back my way. I don't have tickets on myself, but I think I've got a lot to offer people. I can be quite sweet (underneath the sassy...) and giving. Simple. I'm little, I don't even take up that much room haha. It's retarded how much my heart tells me to do things over the logic that friends, family and even my own brain give me. Chyeahhhh...I just really wanna hold hands and spoon and listen to Lovecats all the time.

-I should tune into the sassy that everyone talks about. Go a little Alison from The Dead Weather on life and punch some jerks. Go and play or something. I feel like partying tonight.

-I'd never want to be such an overtly sexual person. Modesty-sexy.

None of this has made sense and I'm glad.

"Failing to see if this sinking ship should sail, while gasping for air in your pool of perfume."

Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore.

"Heav'n has no rage, like love to hatred turn'd, nor Hell a fury like a woman scorn'd."

I'm short of breath.

I can't even put my thoughts into coherent sentences.

I want to go and burn my Bukowski books.

I keep playing Martha Wainwright's "Bloody Motherfucking Asshole" in my head.

I'm not a violent person, but I've certainly had to feel the backlash from those who are.

I could kill a man. Three men in particular. If they did not exist my life would be better.

I am not strong enough to defend myself physically or mentally.

Stop hurting me.

Maaaaaaaaaaaaate.

I haven't had much luck as of late. It's kind of (really) getting me down. I don't really have that bounce-back ability I used to have. I can't really concentrate on anything and don't really see it getting better anytime soon. Working in Tuggeranong probably isn't helping either. Only today I decided to see the slightly amusing side to working downnn south.

1. Nearly every customer I serve inspires me to write a Daniel Clowes-esc comic. Today I had a skinhead from England come into the store and as I was helping him he turned around, giving me a chance to view the large Nike tick inked across his skull. He was really sweet and kept calling me "love", only as he was leaving he said that malls like ours would be filled with "blacks or gangs" in his hometown.

2. I have found a store that is a BILL COSBY SWEATER GOLDMINE. It's amazing. Thirteen clams a piece and you've travelled back to the 80s. It's bliss. I even found disgusting vests that I assume are taken from Chandler Bing's wardrobe.

3. I get to correct people when they say "youse" or "them ones."

4. I can never tell whether the people behind the counter at my coffee shop are related or dating.

It's a bit of worry how ok I am with acid wash jeans these days.

Southside4eva.

If you're all alone bring over your bones.

I often relate situations I'm in to scenes in films and today I feel like Zach Braff (or Andrew Largeman) in Garden State when he's sitting on the couch, watching his old school friends at a party, on ecstasy. Lookin' pretty alone and confused.

The architecture in this film reminds me of the train ride between the airport and coming into New York. I remember wanting to jump out and take a photo of the house rooftops in Autumn.

It's weird how a place in a different hemisphere to my friends and family feels more like home. Or a place I feel more comfortable. It's quite nice to be anonymous. The way the character's in Garden State talk about 'creating a home', no matter where you are keeps playing on my mind. Different people have been talking to me about their concepts of home over the last couple of days and I really do think feeling at home has little to do with where you are, or even who you're with. It's an individual feeling.

You could be alone, somewhere you've never been before. I remember sitting in Cafe Orchard 88 in New York last year, feeling content realising that nobody knew me and other than the route to my hostel around the corner, I didn't really know where on earth I was.

That being said, the friends that I am surrounded with at the moment are way more than I deserve. I owe way more bear hugs than I can give out in this lifetime.

I'm considerably far away from my bestfriend at the moment. Even with the distance between us, I feel so close to her. She wrote some words that I can only assume were about me today and I cannot be more grateful that someone thinks of me like that.

I wish that everyone had a heart like hers. Not to mention a face like hers, heh heh. Living in the same city as her at the end of the year will be magical, but I know that we're strong enough that we don't need to live in the same town to be the way we are.

On an unrelated note:
a. I can't stop listening to The Magnetic Fields. They sum how I feel all too well. Particularly "I Don't Want to Get Over You." It's stupid how much I want to see the good in people. I can't cull people easily.
b. I have never watched so much Seinfeld as I have over the last two days. Elaine Benes is a fashion icon.