Tuesday, October 31, 2006

The Warrior.

Sometimes everything goes so right, it's like life just got CRC sprayed all over it, and a big greasy bucket of bearings thrown underneath.

Lately I've been feeling like an old lobster boiling in hot water, raising my claws at the wooden spoon, too stubborn to just fuck off to the other place, choking on globs of salty seaweed. Trying to resist certain agents attempts to tear my thorax apart. Keeping my meat all to myself.

But not tonight.

I forced myself to take a day off from work today.

I'm a workaholic, that's why I threw the word "forced" in there. I'm terrified that if I leave the shop for five minutes, I'll miss out on a sale, and then I won't be able to pay the rent or eat. Well, that's bullshit, because I've paid the rent two months ahead, and the cupboard has plenty of batchelor chow in it. It's sort of true though, in that whenever I close the shop, six people arrive wanting (in order of demand):

1. pumps.
2. tubes.
3. tyres.
4. lights.
5. servicing.
6. a whole goddamn bicycle.

So forgive me if I'm a little apprehensive at the thought of not only closing the door, but being someplace else on the other side of town, nowhere near it.

But I did it (cue applause).

I even left my brand new project, a Honda VT250F, in the workshop- hardly chopped. Granted, I stayed up all night ripping the seat, fairing, tank, battery housing, rear suspension, and other unnecessary crap off, and cutting the rear section of the frame off with a grinder, but I can't sleep nights, so I can damn well do as I please. I call her Rhonda, coz she's a Honda. And because my favourite Aunt is called Rhonda. She goes 160kph on her rear wheel! (The bike, not my Aunt.)

*gush*

See? I can't even get out of the shop in my damn blog! So...moving on.

Today was lovely and warm, and I walked around the city and caught up with friends new and old, making absolutely sure I didn't hurry anywhere, or stress, or think about Rhonda, and all the things I want to cut off and weld to her when I get back. I had a haircut. I talked to Lord Monkey. I talked to Shelena. I talked to Kellie. I patted some dogs. I met a crazy guy called Ivan, who is one of the new bouncers at Cherry bar, and listened to some of his stories from back in the day, and marvelled at his insane collection of old Harleys, Mercury 2 doors, and Mercedes'z (which he keeps photos of, in his jacket, at all times).

Good shit!

When it started getting a bit darker, I trammed my way over to St Kilda, which (for those of you outside Oztraya) is beside the sea (well, the bay), and full of cafe's, bars, restaurants, hookers, addicts, and wankers, in that order. I had a catch up with more long neglected friends at The Vineyard, and walked out of there at about 10pm.

I was changing trams in the city, or about to, when I remembered a place I hadn't been in years, and wondered if it was still there. It's this crazy Karaoke bar in Chinatown, up one level in a lift with bullet holes in the wall.

Clem, remember this place?

The lift doors open, and you're right in there, and everybody looks at you like you just pissed in their beer, because they are all so seriously hardcore into karaoke, and they are there to win, take no prisoners, because KARAOKE IS FUCKING SERIOUS BUSINESS OK? AND IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME, REFER TO THE HOLES IN THE ELEVATOR WALL. So yeah, big deal over there.

This place has bouncers, okay? They hang out in the dark corners, with long leather coats, because they are huge in Eastern Europe, and that's where they hail from. And just when you think they are the baddest humans you will ever come that close to, they get up on stage one by one, and sing the theme from 'The Lion King' or something. But you can't laugh, because it's SERIOUS.

SO by this stage I have a coke, and I'm shit out of luck finding a table, or a chair, so I sit on the floor, off in front of stage left.

The DJ is doing his best approximation of "...this is Jenny from Canoga Park..." (without the wet tee shirt), and if you don't know what I'm saying here, you really need to start listening to music, and not whatever it is they feed you on the radio nowadays.

Segway.

Back in the '80's, I was a young teen. I've said it before, but back then, the radio really meant something. It was a lifeline. I'm totally serious. Yeah, we had ghetto blasters, and all that cool old skool buttery flava-ey shit, but it was the radio that mattered. On the weekend, when the American Top 40 with Kasey Kasem was on, you stayed at home and listened to it. Every fucking song. Whether it was The Bangles, or Phil Collins (who utterly rules), or Twisted Sister, you listened to it. And you loved it, because there was something about the 80's that was so all at once so diverse and yet totally unified, something so inverse to yourself, so you kinda just fit into it, something that broke down all the barriers, and owned you to the point where it still owns you today. Have you ever heard another band like The Eurythmics?

It's pretty obvious my favourite music comes from these days.

It has a very special place in my life, it reminds me of the days when I was relatively carefree (at least by comparison). Back when I could listen to Bruce Springsteen and just dig it, as opposed to listening to Bruce Springsteen now, and relating to it to the point where I feel like he's speaking for me sometimes.

And so, in Hell's karaoke bar, in between the divas belting out Mariah (pretty goddamn convincingly, I'll admit), somebody would get up and destroy a Talking Heads song, or cum all over your face singing Wham!, or depress everyone by attempting Sly and Robbie. And I thought, "You know what? If you want the 80's, I WILL GIVE YOU THE MOTHERFUCKING 80'S!!!", so I walked up to the DJ and and got him to play a Steve Perry (from Journey) song.



Oh Sherry.



If you've never heard of it, i want you to punch yourself in the face really hard, right now. I'm serious. The rest of us are gonna sit here and wait for you. Hurry up.

So, I wait my turn, and after some utter fuckmaster totally obliterates one of the only good songs U2 ever did, I walk up and drop some serious 80's shit on everyone in attendance.

And it was so cool, because if I had've done 'Good Times' by Jimmy Barnes and INXS, everyone would have known what was going on. If I dropped 'I wanna Rock' by Twisted Sister, they would have sat back and gone "Oh yeah, this one...let's have it!"

But no.

I'm up there under the budget light show, with my fully sleeved arms tattooed to maximum capacity, and I've got these tight jeans on that I never wear, but it's laundry day, and all around me this swirling tinkly synthesizer is starting up, and everyone is just sitting there going "What exactly the fuck is this?"

And then I sing it.

"You should've been gone!
Knowing how I made you feel,
And I should've been gone!
After all your words of steel.
Oh I must've been a dreamer,
And I must've been someone else,
And we should've been over.

Oh Sherry, our love
Holds on, holds on
Oh Sherry, our love
Holds on, holds on"

And this song is so angsty and mental, it's so dense and huge, the drummer is doing these insane hi hat warp speed manoeuvres, and the guitar solo has all those 'wow wow wow' things in it, and you can imagine Steve wrote it with like, sixty bazillion arrows sticking out of his back, just singing his guts out, not giving a flying fuck whether or not Sherry's Dad hears him and backs the family Dodge over him, because he fucking LOVES SHERRY, but he knows it will never work, and he's gone through so much hurt and heartache he really doesn't give a shit if someone hits him with 2 tonnes of Detroit steel.

It's so wrong it's right. It's what Bon Jovi wished they could pull off, it's so Industrial America, and it rules because it's HONEST.

If you're a guy, and you haven't felt like Steve Perry, you're like, six years old, or a paedophile. And if you're a girl and you didn't want to be Sherry, even though Steve rocked the biggest mullet you've ever seen, and had a nose that Julius Caesar would have approved of, then you're a frigid bitch.

There, I said it.

And I'm singing my guts out. I'm shredding the living shit out of my uvula, and I love it. I am feeling every word of it, and exorcising all the demons this shitheap of a month has dumped over me. All the pain and rejection, and hope, and lost hope, and desire, and confusion, and wait a minute, who is that girl?

"But I want to let go
You'll go on hurtin' me
You'd be better off alone
If I'm not who you thought I'd be"

She's sitting at the end of the bar, and she's looking at me like a cat looks at cat food. She's got these laser beam eyes, she's got these legs and that torso, and...well, a head with hair on it, and it all looks A-1 awesome, top quality, Grade A distraction material. She's kinda smiling, but it looks more like it hurts than a smile.

She had freckles, and they were programmed to just destroy you instantly.

"But you know that there's a fever
Oh that you'll never find nowhere else
Can't you feel it burnin' on and on

Oh Sherry, our love
Holds on, holds on"

And the guitar solo kicks in, and is all 'wow wow wow' like I told you already, and I take the opportunity to walk right up to her and kiss her dead on the mouth.

""But I should've been gone
Long ago, far away
And you should've been gone
Now I know just why you stay

Oh Sherry, our love
Holds on, holds on""

So yeah, I do that, and she kisses me back. Right there in the karaoke bar from Hell. And I see the security guys elbowing each other in the ribs, like "Did you just see that?", and I'm standing on the top of my own personal mountain as I say, and she's blowing parts of my face off with those laser beam eyes, because they're open again, and now my moment has passed I am overcome with nervous energy and self defeating thoughts, so I go sit down back where I was before, and my back is to her.

And three more people get up and waste their time because no one was going to be able to top Steve Perry. Not in a million years. Not even Steve Perry stood a chance.

And then I ate my words, because right then I see this pair of legs walk by, and the carpet is bursting into flames, and that girl is grabbing the mic and strangling it like there's no tomorrow, and after what came next, I wouldn't care if there wasn't.

These huge chords kick in, and she tosses her hair to one side, because she's got one of those Chrissy Amphlett fringes that is all in her eyes, and all of a sudden she takes a deep breath in and lets out the biggest "Whooooah" you have ever heard, and if you know Patty Smyth, and her song 'Warrior', you know exactly what I'm trying to tell you here.

Seriously, i could go on for about six hours regarding how amazing it felt to have that song hit me in the chest and brain and cock, but let's cut to the chase...

...she sang the damn song, and she sang it AT ME.

"You run, run, run away.
It's your heart that you betray.
Feeding on your hungry eyes,
I bet you're not so civilized.
Isn't love primitive?
A wild gift you wanna give...
Break out of captivity!
And follow me stereo jungle child!
Love is the kill, your heart's still wild!

Shootin' at the walls of heartache...
Bang, bang, I am the warrior!
Yes I am the warrior!
And heart to heart you win,
If you survive...
The warrior, the warrior.

You talk, talk, talk to me.
Your eyes touch me physically.
Stay with me, we'll take the night.
As passion takes another bite.

Oh, who's the hunter?
Who's the game?
I feel the beat call your name.
I'll hold you close in victory.
I don't wanna tame your animal style!
You won't be caged!
From the call of the wild!

Shootin' at the walls of heartache,
Bang, bang, I am the warrior.
Yes I am the warrior,
And VICTORY IS MINE!!!!"

...and with every "Bang bang", she thrust her hips at me like she had a tail like a horse, and was whipping me in the face with it. And that would have so been just fine.

And when she sang "Victory is miiiiine!", she couldn't have been more right, with her left arm straight up in the air, pulling a massive devil sign with that chipped chrome nail polish, and a tattoo of the ace of spades on her inner wrist.

Rock beats scissors, scissors beat paper, and Patty Smyth beats Steve Perry. Hands down.

Still, if you were born in the 80's, you probably missed out on these, two of the greatest songs ever written and performed, in the entire history of music. Seriously, who fucks to Bach? Tell me.

"Yes yes, but what happened next!?" you breathlessly intone...

Well, as soon as the song was over, she brushed her black hair out of her face, and went to sit down right next to me. Of course I said "Oh no you don't", and took her by the hand, and down into that elevator and out of the building stat.

And that's all you're getting, because this blog post is all about the music.

Go find it. If it doesn't change your life, you're dead already.

"Bang bang!"


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Friday, October 27, 2006

Tear it down and start again.

Here's a totally unsurprising fact...I am very insecure.

At least, very insecure about some things, generally things that don't matter. Like how I look. Actually, that's about it really.

I think I'm pretty good at a bunch of things that do matter, because they are how I make a living. Things like writing, building things, arty stuff (at times), playing instruments, creative endeavors. I also work very hard, and I like that about me.

Recently I did hit an iceberg in one respect though, and that was when my business partner decided to...Well...not be my business partner any more. I came up with this concept of bringing chopper bicycles to Australia, and making our own, and generally being the first in this part of the world to make a name for ourselves as a hub for chopper culture. If we grow enough, I have always wanted to move into motorcycles also. I just love these bikes, and I always have, so there is longevity in it for me, unlike something that is more phase-based.

So when you tell someone about your concept, and they act excited, and want to be in on it, and then after five months, suddenly it doesn't seem like a good idea any more...it kinda dents you in the side a bit. OK, a lot.

Like, your biggest source of encouragement, the person that makes you feel like you're not crazy for wanting to do this, suddenly they think it's a stupid idea, and not worth being involved in for one more minute.

And it makes you think "Shit- what if they're RIGHT?!"

And it's in those times I have an objective think.

In America and Europe, choppers RULE. The market is enormous, and the populations involved certainly don't hurt. Even a minute percentage of millions is still hundreds of thousands. Thing is, they love the design of a good chopper, and aren't hung up in the way Australians are, that if you ride a bicycle (and you're a "grown-ass man", as they say in VICE), then you're a fucking loser. Australia is, was, and always will be about four years behind the USA, so to be realistic we're on the verge of a major chopper bicycle renaissance over here. The guys from O.C.C. (Discovery Channel's 'American Chopper' series) are coming over at the end of this year, and if all goes to plan, Hellbourne Choppers (me) will be in on that action representing the pushie end of the subculture. Things are starting to move fast around here, it's exciting, and to be honest quite intimidating, in that suddenly I'm being contacted by people (like O.C.C.) who I never realistically thought I'd talk to let alone hang out with. Orders are rising, and coming from all corners of Australia, a tiny amount of action out of South-East Asia, and the possibility of quite a major push into New Zealand (where bikes are very well accepted, thank you very much!) Suddenly everyone wants a chopper in their window display, so I'm starting to get free advertising all over the show, and just returning the bikes to the distributor after a month of having them on display, at no cost to me. I'm talking major retail chains in the biggest malls in the country here. We even have a bike in the latest Jeans West TV campaign. And best of all, I'm meeting lovely people and making new friends, and being invited to come hang out and play because all of a sudden what I'm doing is cool and different and meaningful and fun and even a bit sexy, and all these peeps want a slice of that, and the guy who thought it up.

And then I go back to work energised and happy, in the belief that if enough people find out about us, we're gonna not only do fine, but possibly extremely well indeed. And that makes working seven days and six nights a week worthwhile, thinking that if this business comes off, I'm not only going to be able to afford to live like a normal person, but that I can grow my business and expand it in any way my extremely curious and concept-laden mind thinks is necessary.

One hundred positive people drown out the voice of a lone naysayer.

I have to get back to work :)


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Ha Ha, etc...

What a night-and-a-half!

First up, I had my wee party at the Ding Dong Lounge last night, and I'll be god-damned if it didn't go off! I had no idea I had that many friends, all of whom came out of the woodwork to listen to the bands, but also to take part in the raffle (someone won a bright yellow chopper). I had a fantastic time, and the venue thought it went so well they suggested we do it once every three months. The bands were awesome, especially Moscow Schoolboy, who played the show even though they had been spending stupid hours in the studio all week. Top kids.



I met a bunch of people too, and enjoyed the hell out of them all, for varying reasons. It was so "awesome" and "fuck yeah" to see a room full of people going apeshit over bikes me made. Of course by the end of the night all bets were off, and said bikes were being ridden very hard and very fast by some very intoxicated people around the bar, but that's why the room is so big. Isn't it?



But the very best part was reconnecting with a couple of people from my past, who I thought were incredible when I met them, but I also felt the time wasn't right for us to grow closer. But tonight felt right, and we all felt it. So I spent quite a lot of time with each of them in turn, getting down to the meat and potatoes of who they are, and getting excited about what we're going to be to each other from now on. I have dinner dates for every night next week. I like dinner, and I love dates, so I'm pretty happy right now.



And of course, getting a massive wad of money at the end of the night didn't hurt either. Putting bands on is pretty fucking lucrative, isn't it? That should keep the wolves at bay for a while longer!



I'm sorry, I know this post is boring and shit. I usually hold myself to a higher standard, but I just feel good, and want to crow about it. Of course, even though I am (supposedly) "fucking hot" and "covered in hot girls all the time", I came home alone, because attention is good and all, but I'm not ready to take that step into the bedroom with anyone who isn't...welll...me yet. But it doesn't hurt to get a firm idea of just where I stand in the desirability stakes, that's for sure. I'd be the worlds biggest liar if I pretended I didn't soak up every second of attention I got tonight. I deserve it, I think, after way too much time perpetuating a bad mistake, and therefore missing out on actual positivity, (as opposed to just hoping it would one day manifest itself in the situation I was stupid enough to have put up with for so long.)



That was a very long sentence.



Better out than in I always say!



So in short, last night was one of the very best ones.



Thank you Shelena, Bree, Nikki, Kellie, Cal, Sunny, Eva, Jelena, Jovona, Greg, Petri, Tim, Tum, Ute, Loz, Dougie, Johnny, Justine, Keturah, Dell, Paul, Bec, Jesse, Pledge, Jordan, Jess and Moscow Schoolboy, Jules, Sonia Belle, Ashe, that security guy from Cherry who's name escapes me, but who is always total gold to me, Renee Ruin, and most importantly TOBY, Mr total awesomeness himself.



I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight. And that's a nice change.


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

14th of November, 2005.

Well, wasn't that last entry fun?!

Like I sometimes say, I have to shut the rest of you out of this blog every now and then, and just confess what it's like to be me. Now that that's done, I can concentrate on the usual observational crapola from planet knifey.

I took quite a long hiatus from this blog, and wasn't sure I would return. I was having a relationship (or destroying someone else's life, depending on who you ask), and starting a business (or having my ass wiped for me, again, depending on who you ask). So now I'm back and sniffing around my old posts, trying to get a feel for what it was exactly I used to do here.

And I'll tell you something...I'm very happy with this blog.

I'm very happy that I could be so honest about my experience here, and that I held nothng back. I'm happy other people from other places came to read it, and sometimes to leave me their view also. I think I made a few funnies too, and I like that.

But something is tripping me out like crazy right now...

I was reading a post from almost a year ago, about how I deal with loneliness, and being single, and I realised I could just as easily have written 95% of it tonight. I thought I was meant to grow and develop over time, not be more the same? But clearly I am the same, because the words I wrote resonated through me as if my blood were bells.

So if you're one of those people who likes to read about how I feel, all alone in a little shop in West Melbourne at twenty to one on a Tuesday morning (and it never ceases to amaze me how many of you there are!), here it is:

http://knifey-knifeyard.blogspot.com/2005/11/meandering.html

For those of you who are in the Great State of Victoria, Australia, this Thursday night, I am putting on a wee party for my tiny little store with a whole lot of heart- Hellbourne Choppers. I'm hosting 3 of the best bands in Australia right now, one rock beast of a DJ, and a chopper raffle where you can ride away on a bright yellow and chrome machine for the cost of a $5 raffle ticket. Please come along.





This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Monday, October 23, 2006

Letting go.

I imagine that my heart is one thousand feet high.

I imagine my heart has a door in it.

My heart has a door in it, and on the other side of this door, is 'her'.

I imagine her face, that face that holds so many memories. I imagine it there, through that enormous doorway.

And I imagine that heaviest of doors, with its many locks and bars, and layers.

And I imagine myself closing that door, shutting out that face.

I'm locking it.

It's closed.

For the last few weeks, no matter how ugly things became, I always told myself that we could find a way back. I believed we could take each other by the hand, and find a way to recapture all that love, and to exorcise all the fighting. Forgive, and move on.

But we can't, because it's only me that wanted to.

She wants to escape me totally. I feel like a disease. I feel like a disgusting, worthless, all-corrupting malaise that has infected her and made her sick and angry. I feel like a word from me is like a virus, and it only serves to make her more ill.

I feel like my love is a poison, or worse still, just worthless excrement. I bring it to her, and she looks at it with disgust. "Why would I want that?"

It's so maddening to think of all the women I have been close to, and how many of them fought so hard to gain access to this love I never had for them. And the one time I truly gave it all up, and let someone have it, it's worthless and septic.

So I get the message.

This girl I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with, wants nothing more to do with me. She wants me to get out of her life, and take my love with me. She doesn't want to keep in contact. She doesn't care what I do, or where I go, or what I think or how I feel. If I disappear completely, she will only be relieved.

So I'm closing that door.

And every creak of the hinges tears my heart open, because something inside me keeps saying that it's only now, and that if I can deal with the uncertainty and insecurity of never-knowing, if I can just hang in there somehow, that we can make everything beautiful. And I don't know where that voice is coming from, because it's not coming from her.

But I can't hold on any more. I want to, but I can't. Not when all I hear is "I don't love you", and "We are never going to be good friends." Not when the phone never rings, and every time she says we'll catch up, she never comes. Not when the people I know tell me how she's out all the time, in the worst sleaze pits this city has on offer.

I have to give her what she wants, a total absence of me.

And I have to give myself what I need...to cut myself off from this person who makes me feel like waste.

I'm not waste, I'm a person. I'm a person that made mistakes, as many as she did. At least I didn't give up on her. At least I stayed committed to the future we had planned, even after she decided to stop taking my calls. Would a bastard do that? At least no matter how bad our fights became, I never walked out and said "no more." I had faith we could get it right, with help from outside of ourselves. I promised her I wouldn't leave her, and I didn't.

But she left me, and I've had enough sleepless nights to think about it. I'm through worrying if she got home okay, from whatever meat market she left at 7 in the morning. I'm through wondering how she'll cope when she realises the people she's relying on right now don't have one ounce of actual love for her, or they wouldn't treat her the way they do. I'm over wanting to be there, waiting, still in love, when she realises that we went through far too much to just walk away and act like you can forget something like that and simply move on.

I know I'll never get over her. I know I will always wonder how she could become so heartless, against the one person in her entire life that supported her and loved her, and didn't always have one eye open for the next step up. How she could give up on the one person that never gave up on her. But that's my problem, not hers. I can't ask her anything any more. I have no access to her life. She's not even a friend to me. Unlike every other major relationship in my life, this one doesn't want to know me.

She's adamant I have no answers for her, no insight, nothing of worth or use.

I feel the bolt slide home, and crack closed.

And I feel no better than before.

But I have to remain positive, and there's no way I can do that, continually reaching out for someone who hates my hand.

So I have made my mind up, and my mind is "No more." No more thinking about her. No more concern for her. No more curiosity about her. No more her at all.

Ten months of my life, the promise of my future, my heart, and my hopes, I let them all go.

I am a new person.

"Onward and upward..."



This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Monday, October 09, 2006

Opposites attract, & like attracts like...huh?

Do you ever feel like you're going crazy?

Your brain belongs to you, correct? But if it does, why is it so easy for other people to fill it up and take over your thoughts til you're so full of them you have no idea where the 'you' part is? Who's driving this thing? I've been jacked.

My relationship ended a week ago. She packed her things, moved out of our shop, and went to stay with a friend. She's not coming back she says, and I for one believe her. She's very angry, to the point where I no longer recognise the girl she's become. Instead of dancing with me in the kitchen in our underwear, she's somewhere else, doing things I'll never know, with I have no idea who. It's probably for the best, that way. She made it clear she's not in love with me any more, and if I had've been able to read her mind, I would have seen it coming. I knew she was unhappy. And I would have done anything I could to change that. But our communication was the worst, it still is.

She: (Asks question.)
He: (Answers.)
She: (Makes up her own answer, then says "How could you say that?!")
He: (Gets increasingly frustrated, as he never said "That".)
She: (Brings up something else he never said.)
He (Loses his mind.)

She has so many stresses in her life, it's not easy for her. And I would love to see her dreams come true, for her to attain her goals. She's a rising star, there's no doubt about that. But I'll have to read about her in the papers, just like you.

She wants to be friends. I think she'll change her mind about that. Suddenly I never hear from her any more, she's a ghost. An insanely beautiful, angry, cold ghost.

And now I'm looking at a future I'm not ready for- without her. Tunnel vision...

I'd like to think things like "Great! The future is full of endless possibilities!", and other optimistic thoughts, but my mind is more concerned with this crushing loneliness, fear no one is ever going to want me again, or even more frightening, that I'm not going to want anyone else. It takes a lot for me to let someone in. And I don't want to go back to sleeping around and acting like it's valid for me. I want to love someone, I'm very much geared toward it now. I don't want to replace emptiness with more emptiness. She was always convinced I would eventually replace her with someone better, that I was never really all about her. And now she's gone, she can't see just how I can't get past her, how she was the one girl I wanted.

I've met a few girls since last week. Girls that say "Take my number", and try to kiss me in bars. Pretty girls, maybe even interesting girls. But I have no spark with these girls, and don't want to date them, or pretend to be interested for the sake of sex. I don't want sex. I want love.

I don't want to replace her. But I don't want the new her either. I want my girl back, the one I fell for. The one that fell for me. Not the one who doesn't want to realise that the only thing standing between us, and the dreams we had, is her. She thinks it's impossible for us to relate. I agree. But of the two of us, I'm the only one who believes that can change if we want it to. If we seek help, work it through, and help each other. Apparently it's easier to give up, and hate the other person. And to create a totally fictitious belief system around what we had- as an extremely negative, possibly even abusive cycle leading to insanity. All we needed to do was talk, want to talk, commit to talking. But that was before she slammed the door and nailed it shut, without telling me she was doing it. I wish i could do that. Hate doesn't hurt like loss. Either way, I don't want to get back together either. I couldn't love who she is now. I'll leave it at that.

I've learned so much about me from this breakup. So in that sense, it's been good. But it feels pointless too. I'm sure that will make sense to someone out there. I've been concentrating on focussing solely on the positive, and a lot of the time I feel ok. But grief comes in waves, so just when I think I'm on the rise, that the worst part is over, I capsize.

She became my best friend, my confidante of choice, which is why I'm writing to cyberspace right now. I have no one to talk to. I'm so lonely, and I don't understand it. I used to LOVE solitude, I craved it. I defended it. Right now I am terrified of it...the seconds like minutes, the minutes like hours...

...and all the insecurity that comes with being abandoned.

I wonder what she's doing now?

I wonder if she thinks about me?

I wonder why she hates me so much, when all i wanted to do was make our dreams come to life?

I'll never know the answers.

I'm circling here...there's something I want to say, but I don't know how to access it. maybe I can telll you a story?

When I used to be a guitar tech, I'd tour with bands around the country or the world. You'd ride with them, sleep with them (on the smaller tours anyways), eat with them, all that. But you were never one of them. This was illustrated by the lonely hours you'd spend in the venue, all alone in your part of the world, making those guitars sing, while they'd be doing press, groupies, or fun stuff.

There may be other techs/crew around, but they'd be away in their areas, and you'd be in yours. For hours and hours. Then the show would start, and you'd be alone at the side of the stage, doing your job, out of sight (usually). There would be a wall of sound, lights going off everywhere, screaming fans, and in amongst it all, you feeling a state of loneliness I just can't describe. Surrounded by people, yet utterly alone. Luckily, you were busy, but you still felt it.

Then, after the show was packed down, you'd drive the the next city, that long black highway, the very epitome of loneliness, like the sound of trucks at the edge of town, bunked down in a one star motel.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have known loneliness before. A few different breeds of it. I've even known this particular strain before. But it never gets easier. I'm really sick of being lonely. I think that's what I want to say.

If the people around me are to be believed, I'm a bit of an inspirational-type person. I make things happen, a lot of different things. They say I'm talented (I don't buy it though), that I'm interesting, fun, hell, apparently I'm even pretty good looking. So if all that is true, I hope it isn't too much of a fantasy to ask this:

I want a pair of eyes to look into. A pair of eyes that captivate me, that shine happiness on me, that want to see me. I want hands that I can hold, hands I can hold whenever they are by my side, wherever we are going. I want a voice that will tell me how it feels, what it thinks, what it wants. A voice that won't lie to me. A voice that doesn't tell me what I want to hear, but has the courage and self-belief to declare who it is to me, and be proud of it. I want a mind that thinks about what it is, and what it does, and its place in the world. I want a mind that wants to know who I really am, not a concept it makes for itself. A mind that can accept my love, instead of always thinking that I am just settling for less. I want ears that will hear me when I speak my truth. Ears that don't block me out, only to believe insecure or paranoid beliefs to make it easier to keep distance. And I want a body. A body that pines when it is not near to me, or at least thrills at the prospect of being near to me again. A body I can wrap up with my body, and hold close, and treasure for as long as I have a body to treasure it with. I want to be in love. And I want to trust that love, and know that even if things are hard, that if both people really love each other and want to understand each other and talk it through, they can. I want to trust, laugh, grow, and rise with someone.

And most of all, I want to lose that feeling I had until a week ago, that the person I was with wasn't truly in it. That all of their jealousy and paranoia was somehow my fault, when I was rock solid in my commitment to her, and had no intention of that changing. That I was to blame for their belief that I was emotionally unavailable, when the real situation was that they wouldn't let themself be loved by me.

I was crazy to think I'd feel better by letting this out.

Now I get to turn out the lights, and lie wide-eyed in bed til it's time to start work, tortured by questions I'll never know the answers to, and terrified that this is my new life, just like this.

She doesn't think I'm worth loving. I believe I am. Please Universe, prove me right.




This is knifey, from 'the internet'.