Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Refusable Clues

The past week has been hard, a word I tend to lose a lot. Life is hard, so I’m told- and yet I say everyday is hard. Just what is the difference I am trying to make here? I hate how I seem to walk around giving the impression of ‘little miss woe’ all the time. I have missed quite a bit of class cause I have felt so much pressure to smile and act normal when all I feel I am good at is crying and degrading my spirit. I’ve been trying to make more of an effort with people but am still having to suppress the worry of ‘what they really think of me’. I read between the lines, try and analyse people I meet for the first time. I appear to be missing a sensitivity chip as I disregard the idea that they may be having a bad day too, are tired and fed up. I tend to make it so personal and directed at me alone. All or nothing is the mind frame I am in. I am a waste of space…its like I’m giving up on myself despite the fact the pills can’t help but make me less weepy…It’s like I refuse to let myself be happy. It’s like some morbid habit…beating myself done.

I cry still but it is like it premeditated. I care so much about people treating me differently that I can’t even be honest to my closest friends. What am afraid of…rejection or a lack of surprise. Maybe they would have suspected it all along since I have always been a recluse and have the nature of being vulnerable to self doubt and loathing. I have never been strong and perhaps I never will be and this is what it is all about?

I feel like I am something that gets pushed to the background, that people sum me up in a minimum of five words: shy, nice, sensitive, compliant and dispose of me as they please. The only one to blame for this is Me. I didn’t matter because I don’t want to matter.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Queries

Slang of the 1950’s compared with today.
Is our humour becoming less difficult to crack?
Intrepid endeavors.

Do you swear or slang? Yes in my opinion slang is a doing word…. To slang is to substitute the bad words with funny, lighter meanings. This is my definition of slang any road. ..Is it offensive then to slang? Keeping in mind that the person is protecting your feelings when they say you’re a pillock, a nong, a delinquent, a Reginald; though these words may sound big and important they are not nice things to be called. No matter how much they pretty it up for you, a delinquent is nothing to aspire to.

Frankly

eat, read, watch, listen :a regular feature of the quick witted and rather fresh Australian magazine frankie; is an example of good journalism writing.

It is unique in its two-page dedication to entertainment. Most magazines tend to allow a page. frankie’s reviewer goes that one step further and recommends places to eat as well. The style of the writing is friendly and conversational in its judgement. Anything negative is rebutted with something the reviewer did like.

The overall style of the reviews is approachable. (Which is the attitude adopted throughout the mag.) The reviewer does not come across as an expert on films, books or music for that matter. A food authority they are not, they’re just a person who enjoys a good time. This reflects in their writing. Ben Harper’s ‘Both Sides of the Gun’ being “home to his raw blues…funky-soul…political angst…and that damn fine slide guitar” on one side and “a Sunday-arvo affair with power ballads…” suggests a colloquial and youthful approach to critiquing.

It flows nicely because there is none of this “I liked it because…it was cool because of…I liked it when this happened...” It is clear and concise, without giving too much away.

In respect to the film/novel storyline, reviews should give a taste/tit bit of what the story’s about. A line/quote, a scene here and there is fine. But telling what happens ruins it for most.

For instance the film ‘CANDY’; the reviewer doesn’t go into great detail about how the character’s lives unravel nor do they elaborate on the hospital scene which will “leave you feeling absolutely gutted for days.” The intrigue to see this film is created by what the reviewer doesn’t say. The same goes for ‘Live and Become’; the meaning of the title is explained without giving away the whole film. In my opinion a review should outline the story, not tell all. This is why Harry’s magic words cast lasting spell, ‘Waikato Times’ review of the final addition to the Harry Potter series, is an example of not –so- good journalism.

Creative Waffle

“What is that, Waves? Under the Sea.”
“No”, Becky gasped while shaking with laughter.
“This is charades Beck; you can’t talk. You look like a bird by the way. Shane, it can’t be under the sea because you just did that.”
“Ha. Oh yeah” Shane’s face riddled with confusion as Becky continued to flip her wrists and arms.
“So we’ve got ‘with’ and ‘the’…what’s a film called something with the something?”
“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn!”
“You spoke! You’ve ruined the whole game.”
“C’mon, I’m sorry but this is getting boring! There’s no way you would’ve guessed it.” Becky giggled.
“…could’ve played the ‘sounds-like’ card…”
Amidst the teasing no-one noticed the epileptic fit.


He knows my secret.

I wish he did because it’ll destroy me. If he says those horrible words I know a part of me will die. It’s not a matter of if. When he looks one last time, hate burning his eyes, I’ll cry. God, will I cry?! My strength, my being- I'll cry it out. It won’t be just his love he’ll take; but mine too. Our souls will be lost - Gone with the wind.

As Something:

AS HEAVY AS my sleepy eyelids
AS SLOW AS a tired mind
AS DEAD AS the autumn leaves
AS BRISK AS some morning joggers
AS RED AS a pinot noir stained tongueAS HAPPY AS a drag queen in a leotard

Frivolity


So I start a revolution from my bed
Cause you said the brains I had went to my head
Step outside, summer time’s in bloom
Stand up beside the fireplace; take that look from off your face
You aint never gonna burn my heart out – Oasis, ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’

Melt me down
To big black armour
Be no trace of grace just in your honour
Lower me down, culprit sigh you can watch the space in time
For the lead and the dregs in my bed I’ve been sleeping
Lower me down in the end
Secure the ground for the layer parade. – Cat Power, ‘The Greatest’

The night is full of holes
This bullet ripping sky of ink with gold
They twinkle as the boys play rock and roll
They can’t dance at least they know
I can sell the beat, mask them for the check
Girl with crimson nails, there’s Jesus round her neck
Swinging to the music, swinging to the music – U2, ‘Vertigo’

The Intrepid are insipid... Hardly

We are our worst critics.
Forget the others, those who know you best… those who know you least.
We are forever questioning what we are by peering inside ourselves.
We try to see what everyone else sees.

Behind all the matter, pulsing heart; expanding lungs, bone and marrow…somewhere far below lies the answer.
No matter how far we delve/deep we go, we never get past the matter.

So we focus on another being. We take what we do know and transfer it to some other. We try to love it and see it from an outside perspective. We build our interests around finding what we like. Then, we spend the rest of that lifetime learning to make sense of it all.

Judgement Days

The thought of taking down all my pictures made me think there would be no way I’d be able to sleep. The walls would be stark white, bare and so telling of my non-existence. Once tomorrow is over.

So I leave them up, delay their removal and busy myself with angst over my reflection in the mirror. A year has past- oh so quick! and yet I am feeling a little sick. I still can’t fathom the face that bares a forced grin, fakes hope and happiness back at me through the rectangular framed glass.