Avoid this- I actually talk about laundry.

I wonder what kind of person I would be, had I different expectations of life, and of myself, when I was younger?

Forgive me- it's winter, it always gets to me. The way you turn the heater off to try to save money, and the second you feel it's warm enough to do it, you feel the cold flow right back over you. Right through you tonight. Tracing the outlines of bones you never normally pay any heed to. I know exactly what shape they are at this moment.

And I don't want to share my bed right now. I don't want to be responsible for anyone else's thoughts or feelings. I'd love to be able to sleep, but clearly that's not allowed.

I learned I'd rather just stare at the wall than fnish watching the new Pedro Almodovar movie (sorry Bonnie!). I just can't deal with rapid-fire Spanish, or Penelope Cruz, which is so unlike me it's bordering on the insane.

I've realised I really do smell each choc mint biscuit before I eat it, and that the eating is nowhere near as good as the smelling. That's a great way to lose weight, right there! Forget bulimia- just smell your food, and that's it.

I think too much as it is, winter just kicks it into overdrive. I'm not good with the cold. Crisp, I can do. Full cold, I'm out. I can sense myself in wireframe, waiting for summer to come render me again. Check me out, I make it sound like I live in Alaska or something.

I've been losing things lately, my camera, letraset, my ability to care about things. The usual. The frustrating thing about living in the digital age is you get so used to things working one way, you think you can expect the same performance out of everything. When you misplace your phone, you ring it. I reach for my phone when I lose my socks, as if they've got a number, and will start beeping and flashing at me from under the chair. Or when you meet someone in real life, and you're so used to msn or email, that you absent mindedly tap an invisible enter button at the conclusion of every sentence, .

The last person I spoke to on msn was real big on animated emoticons, to the point where:
1. The conversation looked like downtown Tokyo at night, and
2. I had to question whether or not the person at the other end was 6 years old or not.

I'm 100% positive we won't be talking again, and that it's gonna take someone who looks like this:



...to get me back on there. Unfortunately for me, that's actually pretty likely. We're due a decent talk, and I'm not calling Canada. More problems.

The space bar on my keyboard is broken, so it takes me a billion times longer to type things than normal. There's no way I'm shelling out $50 for a new one. It's an Apple. I'm grumpy and frugal right now.

I wonder what it is that I want?

I have no idea. I think I want to be left alone, but I have too many people who want to see me. I don't know why they do that. Especially when I say "I'm in a shit mood, I'll just catch you later", and they say "No, it's fine- you just need a friend right now."

Incorrect.

What I need, is for them to listen to what I just said, and not tell me what I need. People just shit me to death. There, I said it.

I have a new friend, and we had a Sunday stroll together. That was nice. It shouldn't have been- we're so intensely different, she should be the last person I want to share thoughts with. But because we're so different, and because there's less than no likelihood of either of us confusing the issue with sex, it just might be crazy enough to work. I hope so. If I read about her in a magazine, I'd say to myself "She sounds really interesting". I like interesting things, they interest me.

Besides, I can't get enough of the way she says "yes".

I went on an international guitar buying spree today, buying up every sea foam green Fender Stratocaster I could find, as they are no longer made. I bought two from the USA, one from Romania, and one from the motherfucking Maldives. Why I need four of the same guitar, I'll never know, but the mood I'm in lately, even I can't tell me otherwise. I even bought a blackberry, just because it looked cool, and a tangerine iMac laptop for the same reason.

I wonder who reads this shit? And what you think? and how bored must you be to subject yourself to it. Don't get me wrong, I like my blogs normally, I think they're pretty good. But reading this must be like watching someone average doing laundry.

I don't even watch myself do laundry, I outsource it all, and the person who does it isn't even average. She's a knockout actually. and still I don't hang around to watch it happening.

My best intentions really do get waylaid by nothing more than my own mind, and its amazing proclivity toward thinking about too many things at once, and doing none of them.

I need to get my shit together.



THIS, is knifey, from'the internet'.

Let it be known...

I invented a word today.

It is "epologise"- to say "sorry" via email.

WORSHIP ME.




This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Street Justice!

There is this arrogant asshole of a guy who has two little cat sized dogs.

They always shit on my doorstep, and he watches them.

This has happened 5 times including today.

I've had enough, so while he was having a coffee 3 doors down the road, I scooped up the crap, and dumped it in his lap. I also said "The next time your dogs shit on my step, you're eating it".

Am I a bad person?




This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Bloodbath en route to...

Our story starts with a girl, like most good stories do.

She was an Irish girl, with green eyes, and long jet black hair. Let's call her Jess. Jess is a heartbreaker. She was created by the Universe to utterly do in the heads of all the worlds boys.

She wasn't unattainable, by any means. If the boys took their time, and treated her like a princess, she would eventually give up the goods. For a time. Before she changed her mind and walked away, with whatever explanation struck her fancy in the moment. She never meant to hurt anyone, but like all wild forces of nature, given a long enough time line, injury or death were inevitable. Besides, there were always more boys.

Of course, this is the part where the boy enters. Let's call him Horatio. Boys can't be heartbreakers, so let's call him a heartless bastard. He was far from unattaniable, just ask one of the hundreds of women he had wasted his time on, until he too changed his mind and walked away. He never meant to hurt anyone, but, well...you know. Besides, there were always more girls.

So one afternoon, Jess and Horatio meet. They tried to be friends, both knowing the power the other wields over members of their sex. They both hastily construct defenses and walls, to throw the other off the scent, that they both thought the other was the most desirable thing they had ever seen. Jess punched him in the arm several hundred times over the course of the afternoon and evening, and we all know what that means. Horatio, for his part, did his best to not be charming or good at conversation, peppering their time together with long impenetrable silences. But still neither of them would go.

Jess would ask "What are you thinking about?", and Horatio would reply "Some thoughts are best kept to oneself." to which Jess would retort "Well, do them on your own time!", and punch him in the arm.

They were doomed.

Jess would tell Horatio all about her thoughts, the ones she never talked about, and Horatio would say "I need a graph for that." Jess punched him in the arm.

And so, the two most impossible to keep people in the world, fell for each other.

They both knew it was doomed, that one would eventually leave the other, and because of their shared phobia of commitment, they both loved that situation.

And when their bodies came together at last, every other body before felt like it was made of cold wax in comparison, the warmth, and the softness, and the heat, and the strength, and the moisture, perfect. And the fact it wouldn't last, made every breathless moment precious, they celebrated each tick of the clock, each drained bottle, every trip to the laundrette. They rarely used the heater, if you know what I mean.

And instead of fearing the loss of personal space, the alone time, they adored it, knowing one day in the future they would have more alone time than they could work out what to do with. Knowing that one day, their space would be nothing but personal. And Jess clung to Horatio, not wanting to let go. And Horatio adored Jess, hoping he had changed, and that this time, he could keep a girl for himself.

And after a spell, they came to realise. All Horatio needed was the right girl, and Jess needed the right boy. And then, they knew there was no need to go anywhere. Because the reason they had always made their excuses and walked away from every other person, was for one simple fact.

They were made for each other.

Round two- 'ding ding!'

I don't like the word "random". I just decided this this morning. I don't really think there are many random things left in the world, it's just a word kids use to describe something that doesn't fit into their limited worldview. Everything is inspired by something, so when a person says "That's pretty random", what they're really saying is that they just don't see the connection like you do. There's a word for this, and it's "Duh".

I'm not being very generous, I know. That's not good of me. If there's one thing I have learned this year, human people just don't see particular things until..well, until they can see them. Like a girl who keeps going back to the guy who beats her, because once in a while he actually acts tender with her, while every friend she has is pulling their hair out in frustration, wishing they could make her see she's worth more than that, and that what she has isn't love at all. It's sickness. She can't see that, and she won't see it, until she sees it. I don't know what it is that regulates the 'seeing', or the time when it occurs. I'd guess that being ready for the consequences of seeing have something to do with it, like maybe we DO see everything, but the part of us that decides what we can handle or not filters out most of it until we're ready to deal. That would make sense. I know on some level, when I have finally seen things, a part of me has gone "Yeah, that makes sense, I was kinda thinking the same thing for a while actually".

I've had the biggest epiphany of my life in the last week, and because of it, everything has changed. I'm not sure how much of it I want to detail, as for the first time in my life, I'd really like to keep something to myself.

What I will say, is that I realise now how much unwarranted faith I have had for humanity up til this time. That sounds negative, I know. And I guess it is. But I don't mean it that way. I guess what I mean is that for reasons I still don't comprehend (maybe to simply not go crazy?), I have always given people a lot more credit than they actually deserve. As much as I knew people couldn't generally be relied upon to do the right thing (due to the gravity of greed, or fear, etc...), I never allowed myself to fully see how weak we all really are (unless we choose to act otherwise). This isn't an indictment from on high, I'm as bad or worse, I'll say that right now.

People aren't only weak, but narrow-minded.

Melbourne being as multicultural as it is, and with me being the little globe trotter I am, I have been lucky enough to see a lot of differing ways different ethnic/cultural/religious groups of people think and behave, firsthand. And what I will say before I say what i was about to say is- they all have very strong reasons for thinking and behaving the ways they do, and it's obviously right for them. But the sheer diversity of ideas on thought and related behaviour suggests the answer could lie with any one of them. Or none of them. Or a piece here and another piece there.

What I want to say about that, is- when you think along the lines of just 'your group', be it ethnic, religious, or otherwise, you're putting up a wall around yourselves. And when we put up walls, for sure we're safe from the outside, but what do we see? All's we see is a wall, that's what. That's putting a big, fat limit on how much of the world you can appreciate and understand, it's like wearing blinders. Trust me, I know- I just took mine off. And the view is...well, it's pretty shit actually. Because now I'm seeing the full extent of the damage in all this "I'm Greek, from the best nation on earth"/"I'm American, from the greatest nation on earth" thinking really is.

It's cool if you love your country, but why do you have to better, or the best? Because where the arbitrary borders of your particular country end, there is a whole world that continues, full of exotic and wondrous things and people. And if you're better than all that, then you're ignorant, and that sucks for you, because everyone who isn't like you, is going "Wow! Check out how fucking beautiful the bosphorous is!", and "Japan is a fucking trip!" I'm not even going to get into how retarded thinking you're a superior person because you're simply from a country is, or worse still, if your parents or grandparents were, and you've never left this one.

Or even thinking you're a superior person at all.

We're all the same shit in different bags. Some of these bags are aesthetically amazing to look at (refer to my last blog for more on this), some have intense cognitive abilities, some make sounds that can lift up a persons emotions, some can move really fast. All types of us. And none are the best, if anything, it is the diversity of us, that makes humanity so special.

I'm not naiive enough to think anything will change, especially not from this blog. As usual, I'm thinking out loud, and if someone comes along and reads it, and gets it, then we've connected, and I thank you for taking the time out to check me out.

So, the point is, I see all of this for what it is now. I couldn't before. I couldn't see it for what it was, i saw it as my fault somehow (and that somehow I'm keeping to myself). I saw the closed minds of others as something to do with me, when in reality, I'm just not that important! (Sigh of relief!) I have held onto so much insecurity trying to rate and to matter to people who are totally physically incapable of seeing me, unless I squeeze myself into the narrrow framework they have constructed around themselves (or had handed down to them).

I thought for years and years that it was me, and that I wasn't good enough. And now I think "Good enough for what?" Why waste precious moments of my one life on this earth, pursuing a blind ideal? An ideal that can't see me unless I am in a magazine or on the television? And when I am in a magazine or on television, why am I suddenly and only then worth knowing? and why would I want to know someone like that at all? Seeing as I'm the one in the spotlight at that time, by their way of thinking, shouldn't I not talk to them, because they aren't?

What a waste of time. So, the upshot is, with lower expectations (or none), so too will my level of disappointment be lowered. And without wasting my life on worthless pursuits, I can now focus like a laser beam, and realise all of the half finished projects i have lying around.

I'm really looking forward to the second half of this year.


This is knifey, from 'the internet'.