Tegan and Sara are LOVE

Things i plan to do these winter holidays:

1.) Lay under my bed for extended periods of time, reading the six books i have hired from the library.

2.) Work, make money, to get me out of this shit country.

3.) Try not to be a sad, lonely, depressive loser.

4.) Visit Mueck exhibition at GoMA.

5.) See some live music.

A letter to my unborn nephew

The world is a cruel place,
It’s full of evil people with bad intentions,
People will hurt you, you will get disappointed,
People are only ever after two things; money and power.

The world is a cruel place,
You have to try your hardest to make the most of everything you are given,
Be who you want to be and not what people push onto you.

I hope by the time you are old enough to understand that the world will have changed,
I hope by then we have reached equality,
I hope that people are not prosecuted for being different,
I hope we have stopped hurting each other,
I hope mother nature is looked after,
I hope, I hope, I hope.

The world is a cruel place,
But I promise, I will look after you.

Dans notre univers privé

I want to live in world where I speak French,
Listen to classical music,
Dine with educated people,
Smoke cigarettes,
Talk about art, literature and music.

And in the winter I would sit at home with you,
Entangled within your body, lay in bed all day and night,
Drink the finest wine and cups of tea.
We will dance to the rhythm of our own beat,
And quote all the greatest poets.

When we are old and grey, we will move,
We will move to the French countryside,
Dans notre univers privé.

The clocks stopped at one seventeen one morning. There was a long shear of bright light, then a series of low concussions. Within a year there were fires on the ridges and deranged chanting. By day the dead impaled on spikes along the road. I think it's October but I can't be sure. I haven't kept a calender for five years. Each day is more gray than the one before. Each night is darker - beyond darkness. The world gets colder week by week as the world slowly dies. No animals have survived. All the crops are long gone. Someday all the trees in the world will have fallen. The roads are peopled by refugees towing carts and road gangs looking for fuel and food. There has been cannibalism. Cannibalism is the great fear. Mostly I worry about food. Always food. Food and our shoes. Sometimes I tell the boy old stories of courage and justice - difficult as they are to remember. All I know is the child is my warrant and if he is not the word of God, then God never spoke.

- The Road

A Man of Words

A man of words and not of deeds
Is like a garden full of weeds;

And when the weeds begin to grow,
It's like a garden full of snow;

And when the snow begins to fall,
It.'s like a bird upon the wall;

And when the bird away does fly,
It's like an eagle in the sky;

And when the sky begins to roar,
It's like a lion at the door;

And when the door begins to crack,
It's like a stick across your back;

And when your back begins to smart,
It's like a penknife in your heart;

And when your heart begins to bleed,
You're dead, and dead, and dead, indeed.



- Percy B.Green.

A little old man and I fell out.
I'll tell you what it was all about.
He had money, and I had none.
And that's the way the noise begun.

- The Real Mother Goose.

love and loss

Our bodies lay there, intertwined, fitting perfectly.
You breathing down my neck, telling me you love me.
Tracing my fingers along your hips and down the small of your back.
And with that, you wake up and the ghost has gone.
You can’t feel it and you can’t touch it, so does that make it any less real?

Bare your teeth across my chest, it hurts less than the pain you’ve caused already.
My world comes crashing down around me, I grip the cement.
I brace myself for impact, the final blow that knocks the wind out of my chest.
With sweaty palms and busted smiles, gritted teeth and false hopes.
I don’t feel it. Nothing at all, never have, never will.

let's dance to joy division and celebrate the irony.

Changes. They're happening. Everyday.
Honestly, i don't like it and it's scaring me.
We're moving on and i'm feeling left behind.
Sitting in this old empty house, just buying my time,
waiting to be left completely alone with no direction.

You were my last lifeline and now you have gone,
to the darkside, which ironically is not dark, my side is.
Dark, lonley and so incomplete.

I now see myself slipping away into this dark and empty cynical state.
How does one get out of it? I fail to understand.
Where do i start and do i really want to?
Thats the worst thing about this, i have no motivation to make myself happier.

You were my last lifeline, you are happy and i should be happy for you,
but i am empty and broken.
I remember when you were empty and broken and i did my hardest to help you.
I hope you help me, because i dont think i can do this alone.

Is this what life is about?
Being broken and empty and alone?
I'm being cultivated to live these lonely nights.
Everything that was good in my heart has left my body and soul.