man you've been a naughty boy and let your face grow long

i piked early from the grove tonight, ending my sabbatical there this week. when energy levels reach an all time low, resolutions accommodate. bliss is mostly continuous; i feel like i’ve had a four day conversation with god, the most stunning post-adolescent from heaven.
but now i’ve come home to collect my head, hoping there’s no lost fee, hoping that tomorrow i can rip off my night patch without leaving a residue. that rough, red, skin memory. we’ll see.

at the moment, i'm listening to The Beatles. this is the first time i've realised how wonderful they are, and it's making me really miss Mintie.

i wrote another very short story. here it is.


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I loved the way her face looked when she was thinking about something she couldn’t understand. I loved it so much that every week I’d give her a new book – Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, A Short History of Time, Ulysses, FLCL and so on. Eventually she understood all of the things I could think to tell her and all of the books I could think to give her. I could see it in her face. I didn’t see that look of curious wonder for six whole months, until, finally, there it was again. She was on the phone to someone, laughing, wondering. It was then that I had to let them be together. She didn’t understand him, ever. I have the photos to prove it, we still send cards at Christmas.

lifecoach to lifecoach:
"should i stay a lifecoach?"

- greg.

Revolution no. 9

You said unless I could get into common time I could not come with you to the revolution. I said I’ll move to the rhythm of the revolution, only. You said I’d fall over in the streets if I didn’t move with you, as we duck and weave through the predictable progressions and poke our heads up for those surprising refrains. But, I said, everyone is ducking and weaving, there’s no order there. They carry different colours, shout at different pitches, write their own obituaries for that moribund political system, yelling ‘ha!’. And in the end I didn’t come with you. Because I can’t help but relish chaos. Because I am a revolution tourist. Because I do performance studies, and maybe I’d write an essay about the theatrics of the coup, and that is not the kind of thinking we need at this crucial juncture, Bron.
But mainly because I’m just really into ambient noise right now.





notes:

1. that story is inspired by cas. "ambient noise!".


2. i'd also like to quickly remind everyone of that song sexual revolution by macy gray. it's amazingly great.

"I'm so funkin' beautiful
especially when I take my clothes off
I'm so funkin' beautiful
especially when I take my clothes off

sexual revolution

got to do them before I die
got to do them before I die"

Enjoy.

I am lacking
Ambition.
I am lacking
My capitalist fist;
These palms are skyward
Like handsets for reception.
I am shapeless,
Wandering, pondering
Plundering
Naively,
Squandering privileges
In the city of villages;
The town of iniquity,
Drunks,
And fun times.
I spend my days
Into debt.
I laugh at luck,
I flip a double headed coin.
People-collages and reckless joy
Defy my endless limerick schedules;
Five line dot point yearnings for a life
More structured
And simple.
Oh my days,
Have I transcended the stress already?
Or did I learn to live
Off a coke ad?





Sometimes i worry that we're all trapped in it, no matter the mountains we climb.
/end pessimism.

lesbians.
better than equestrian,
better than the Ganges.



had two fucking great days, yesterday and today. i was still running on barely any sleep yesterday, yet for some reason i was in the best mood. has something to do with:
- running into a friend i haven't seen in 10 years, outside my house
- getting 15% of special education out of the way
- discussing john forbes' poetry in my tut, meeting an amazing girl and continuing the poetry/books/Brooks talk all the way up eastern avenue only to then discover that she is Clemmy, the famous ex-neighbour to the Grove.
- following Andy to vegsoc
- meeting Sita, whose parents own Govindas, finding out she is in 3rd year education and knows a bunch of my friends
- meeting Erin, and talking with her about veganism, the Hare Krishna stance on homosexuality, etc
- meeting Amy, a familiar firstyeartutes face, talking with her about the environment, her campaign for SRC and gender studies for a while
- finally meeting MIM, the famous friend of the Grove AND my ex-house in Enmore
then..

sad woman on the bus opposite me, cradling a 20cm high buddha statue. i tried to vibe to her, i was in this amazing mood and wanting everyone else in the world to be in it with me as well. because: being alive, and on a bus, and buddha statues, and sunlight, and oxygen. amirite? she muttered something about eye-contact and fuck so i left her alone, a little saddened. a woman two seats behind me smiled at me. strangely knowing, unexpectedly warm. later, a mother and her 8month year old daughter were sitting in the sad womans seat. the baby's whole face was stretched out, smiling at someone sitting in the unexpectedly smiling lady's old seat. a man next to me made a comment about it, they all started talking, i joined in, we all said goodbye, i went to work. people are the best people.

THEN.
- seeing the Balmain kids
- eating Sam's home made dumplings, getting high, drinking imported birthday beers
- adventuring to the Imperial Hotel, seeing the end of a band that weren't the band we went to see, but actually the band of some friends from my Dad's work
- getting more high
- sleeping


and todayyyy i had shortlist/ladyguyguy time with Andy and Cas, my ladyguys, my boyfriend/girlfriends whom i can never date but feel as though i must, in order to express to the world my adoration for them in some form it will recognise. MixSoc IGM, vegsoc, then clipper with Frankie and Holly, cigarettes and coffee and water, conversations, ridiculousness; anniversary adiversary, adderversity (snakes in mortar boards), adders and ladders. brekekekeks.

and then Austrian couchsurfers, Eva and Anna, arrived in the evening. pretty amazing.

the babe with the power (what power?)

five hours sleep in three days. five minute dinners: a capsicum like an apple or chickpeas from a mug. cigarettes for breakfast, my mouth tastes a fireplace. all my time spent facebook guitar mixtapes work blog writing, everything but essays.
there is not enough time, there is no time. and oh god when i think about it i just want to give up this game and skydive in greenland.

at the beginning, i thought i had this year.

The Scene

Anxious club-eyes,
Dance with me,
You behave so
Heterosexually
Smiling, writhing
Drunkenly,
Oh baby how I want your
Docile body

We could get married,
We could get mortgaged
I have names
For our three kids.
Won’t you let me caress
Your soft hope chest,
Oh how I love your
Docile body





so maybe i read some Foucault.

"i stayed up all night to get tickets, then i slept through the show."

cas and i decided that this is THE story of my life. (actually).

I'm the scatman

Ski bi di bi di do bap do
Do bam do

Bada bwi ba ba bada bo
Baba ba da bo
Bwi ba ba ba do [x2]

(More Scatting)

Everybody stutters one way or the other
So check out my message to you
As a matter of fact
Don't let nothing hold you back
If the scatman can do it
So can you
Everybody says that the scatman stutters
But doesn't ever stutters when he sings
But what you don't know
I'm gonna tell you right now
That the stutter and the scat is the same thing
Yo, I'm the scat man
Where's the scat man? I'm the scat man.

Why should we be pleasing any politician heathens who would
Try to change the seasons if they could
The state of the condition
Insults my institution
And it only makes me crazy and my heart like wood

Everybody stutters one way or the other
So check out my message to you
As a matter of fact
Don't let nothing hold you back
If the scatman can do it, brother
So can you, I'm the scat man.

Bada bwi ba ba bada bo
Baba ba da bo
Bwi ba ba ba do [x2]

Ski bi di bi di do bap do
Do bam do [x3]

Everybody stutters one day or the other
So check out my message to you
As a matter of fact
Don't let nothing hold you back
If the scatman can do it
So can you

I hear you ask all about the meaning of scat
Well I'm the professor and all I can tell you
Is while you're still sleeping
The saints are still weeping
'Cause things you call dead haven't yet had the chance to be born
I'm the scatman


I'm the scatman

Ski bi di bi di do bap do
Do bam do

Bada bwi ba ba bada bo

Baba ba da bo
Bwi ba ba ba do [x2]

(More Scatting)

Bada bwi ba ba bada bo
Baba ba da bo
Bwi ba ba ba do [x2]

Ski bi di bi di do bap do
Do bam do [x3]

Yeah! I'm the scatman.

(Scats)

Where's The Scatman?

(Scats)

I'm the scatman

Repeat after me
It's a scoobie oobie doobie scoobie doobie melody

I'm the Scatman.

Sing along with me
It's a scoobie oobie doobie scoobie doobie melody

Yeah!

I'm the scatman [x2 Mixed with scats in background]






WHAT.

"we bet you just can't wait to catch this highly anticipated big-screen lesbian kiss"


grove expectations (poetry night) at cas's last night. got there early after zero hours of sleep the night before, boltanski'd her bannister and drank some mulled wine. that place is so warming, our world in there is beautiful. kind of like my new wife, megan washington (i may have watched her videos and died of love, a little). these things make me miss jen.

we read some poetry, in a special reading chair. spotlight and all, with an isosceles fairylight crown. i read one by this guy, and also read an old one of mine. i've had this other poem lurking around for ages, i thought about reading it, didn't. this is it:

we woke up in the park last week,
leaves in my hair, grass on my cheek.
searching for bruises i felt should be there,
i was cursing my body for failing to bear

our purple indiscretions in flesh

so that others might notice, make mention
of these marks, and of this embodied tension,
discuss and speculate on our night's lesson
(that somehow never lessened the question;

is it actually me you want?)

but i won't tell if you won't, it's just us
and yeah, you're right, it's just lust.
it's just cost trust and lost love,
we both got drunk and forgot who i was

so you should know that i don't blame you

but can you just
admit that it's
fucked.


m, i don't know, there's still a fifteen year old emoet in there.

also, later, poems from this guy:

... and others.

things have been strange of late,
i'm burning through the weeks.
though last night was a fantastic reminder that i can do things. sometimes, i feel as though we have such incredibly important fun. it is perfect and essential.

have i ever told you that i love you?

so, ALSO, things are ok, on the whole. for me. although, almost everything is spectacularly unfathomable to me these days; i am way too distracted by life-detail. ah i'd like to have you all over here in my head some time, whenever you forget that pine nuts and batteries are incomprehensibly miraculous.
mostly, today, girls amaze me.

working on the music for tomorrow night. it's going to be seriously AMAZING.

I want to make this bumper sticker:

Why are you
letting these people
run your world?


I’ve always had trouble separating the personal from the political, the outside. Because I do, more often than not, believe that this reality is probably pretty small. About my size. But in the end it doesn’t matter, because some of the people in my reality are making my reality hell. They are running my world, political and personal.

Teenage Feelings


1. Fear

I get scared of famous people

The same way as I get scared
of hell;

When I’m worried it’s real.


2. Love

We chose who we’d die for
When each breath
was need.

And it took a year,
Darling

But they watched your terry cloth mouth
Swallow death
and me.



Teenage Dreams

There are things I want to tell you:

Everything about you is sexy,

And in my American teen dream
We get together at prom.

(Please remember this
as a role play possibility
if we get married.)