All of you know that the girls on the road are like apples we stole in our youth.

Tunes in my head: Ladies Of The Road by King Crimson
Atmosphere: Depressed, lonely, nihilistic.

I FUCKING MISS YOU.

I FUCKING MISS YOU ALL.

BUT I FUCKING MISS YOU THE MOST.

I'm pretty fucking lonely, guys. Even though I apparently have this wide circle of friends...I'm still really fucking lonely.

Why is this?

There's a void that's been left by you.

I know, there's not much I can do about it now.

But I figure you might want to know.

That's all.

I'm sorry, I know you don't like reading this. But I need to do this. For my sakes, for my sanity.

For tonight, goodbye.

Never never ever stop.

Tunes in my head: Fight by The Cure
Atmosphere: Depressed

Fuck, back down the maelstrom.

day 01 | a song
day 02 | a picture
day 03 | a book/ebook/fanfic
day 04 | a site
day 05 | a youtube clip
day 06 | a quote
day 07 | whatever tickles your fancy

We can all be romantic.

Tunes in my head: Humdrum by Peter Gabriel
Atmosphere: Tired

Rings Of The Cosmos


we walk in circles on the air of the sun
and don't move along until the day is done
even at times when the souls unite
there's some sort of flash the sparks ignite
so slowly we drive our car off the edge
and entrap this moment within the crumbling ledge
green headlights dart like sirens from dark
perhaps this moment will remain engrained?

Houses, Ordered

Tunes in my head: When You Sleep by My Bloody Valentine
Atmosphere: Alert


when the blue forms katie calls
and night hits twenty eight
when the red forms sadie calls
and day hits fourty four
we all go for walks at night
to avoid two and fifty one
walls close in kimono falls
and there's sun through paint

breaking time faulty plan
voices sing and garbage can
ordered houses don't meet rats
and secret is not hidden back

gentlemen walls into room and
delcares the third shortened
pans fly fans are swept
poster torn from the wall
caged in such escaping rooms
people like that don't get caught
but melted now secret flies
hits the bars and resounds so high

breaking time faulty plan
voices sing and men who can
ordered houses don't have this
secrets hide within a kiss

life and how to live it
is part of the game, the road
travel so far to fall just short
at the hospital bed
marlowe looks into the wall
and runs at the sickened sight
of two coffe mugs sitting
embedded and filled with ooze

breaking time faulty plan
voices sing like pelicans
ordered houses fall apart
and secrets are now forced to part

All the stars drip down like butter.

Tunes in my head: Let Me In by R.E.M.
Atmosphere: Good, actually.

Life's okay right now.

day 01 | a song
day 02 | a picture
day 03 | a book/ebook/fanfic
day 04 | a site
day 05 | a youtube clip
day 06 | a quote
day 07 | whatever tickles your fancy

What happens now?

What Happens Now?

Page sat down at the edge of the chair, a cold glass of water gripped in one hand, and a pen in the other. Slowly he stared at the walls.

Yes, the walls stared back. In a staring competition, they'd never lose, Page knew.

And yet he still tried. He still tried to beat them, because he knew that if one day, he did, then the whole rules of human existance could be rearranged around this one little victory. He knew that if these timber walls would one day suddenly cower from the challenge and retreat into a long lost wood.

Ironic, isn't it? They must be revisiting their friends.

So Page came into this room to while away his pointless existence. For hours at a time he'd stare. He'd stare in all different ways – from the ceiling, with a glint in his eye, with glasses on. Still, there was no retreat. Both the wall and Page seemed unrelenting in their desire to win this seemingly eternal staring contest.

Well, the wall did have an advantage, it was kind of nailed to the floor. And even then, it was nailed to one another. Backing away from this little contest would prove rather hard to it, even if it wanted to.

Yes, Page could have brought a chainsaw into the room with him, and the thought had crossed his mind many a time. But that would make the game way too easy. There'd be no challenge if the walls had suddenly come crashing down as a result of their foundations between driven to splinters by the constant and ever so painful rotation of tiny little blades with what had been termed “nasty, pointy teeth” by Page's friend Stephen.

Page was always up for a challenge. Even a seemingly impossible one.

And, of course, he did take into consideration the feelings these pieces of wood would have. What use would putting them into little splinters be? Imagine their poor families, Page often lamented! “They'd come home from school one day, sit down to eat a nice dinner of dirt, and the larch policeman would knock on the door. The mum, who undoubtedly would be a mahogany plant, would go up to answer it, leaving the children to cheerily munch away at their little dinners. When she came back, the tears would slowly erode away at the ground, leaving her to despise both the cruel nature of deforestation and the relative poverty in which trees lived in.”

And upon hearing this, Stephen would slowly back away for a moment.

I mean, sure, his friend was strange, Stephen noted to himself, but this strange? Maybe there was an effect that had been made by the little decisions in life. I mean, what could have happened that would drive Page to have some eternal staring contest with what is literally a solid wall.

Unless you chomp into it with a chainsaw, he added, and then noticed that he had forgotten to utilise the correct punctuation for the above thoughts.

Of course, Page wouldn't give in. It wasn't in his nature. From the age of five, when he had built this majestic little sandcastle in the pits at playschool. It was an amazing castle, to be sure. Full of pits and moats and murder holes.

But when the bell had gone to go inside for the latest lesson in this strange design of life (“Art”, Page recalled), he refused to move from his position – the figurative fort of sorts. And so he sat. And refused to give up his position.

For thirty five hours.

“An impressive, marathonic feat.”, Stephen recalled.

“What?”

“Nothing, I was thinking about that time when you were five and you built that sandcastle at playschool and it was full of pits and moats and murder holes and you wouldn't go inside for your art lesson and you eventually stayed outside for thirty five hours in an attempt to maintain your little dream.”

“Oh. Is the wall moving yet?”

“No.”

“Shut up then.”

And so the contest would continue on. Page would continue staring at the wood, encaspulating it's fine grain within his glance. The wood would continue to stare back at him, encaspulating his skin tones within it's glance. Stephen would sit, extremely bored extremely bored extremely bored extremely bored extremely bored extremely bored extremely bored.

Even to the point where he'd intone these words quietly, softly, underneath his breath. And they'd gradually become louder and louder, to the point where Page would hit him for talking too loudly.

“IT BREAKS MY CONCENTRATION!”, his eyes would scream.

Turn back the page.

Tunes in my head: Incubus by Marillion
Atmosphere: Depressed

It's amazing what things can bring back pain in flooding memories.

A simple word can just revitalise endless seas of memory.

A picture can resurrect the sensation of a petrol can underneath your nose, the sour liquid lightly pressing your lips.

The taste of strawberries slowly washing their way through your mouth.

The sight of a dismembered body hanging outside a car.

The warmth of an indian summer, the red sky blazing through the clouds.

Or the warmth of a loved one's breath against you neck as they doze off gently to a deep, deep sleep.

A voice down the phone, passively asking how you are, can evoke such a rush of emotion.

to mindlessly garden

Tunes in my head: Gardening At Night by R.E.M.
Atmosphere: Writing...

fourteen voices in my head tell me different things
this warmth in my head just won't be relieved
if i could get these friends out of here
then i'd be alone but so safe

all the time i walk there's never chances to think
when the time comes the yuppie screams to get out
all i can really do is yell over the ballroom
and still it trails off into the doors

i'm so lonely but my friends just won't leave me alone i'm never cold no my too filled head feels like home

when the actions are made i'm not sure of who does them
i go into chelsea to find the impossible answer
when the photographs flash the polaroid burns stares
another victim caught in the camera eye

all the kids come out to play when the teacher's sick
and havoc destroys the classroom with slow decay
when the gentleman comes forth his immaculate greeting
it's a kind of deja vu, something that's been heard before

We scar for the fencemen.

Tunes in my head: Travels in Nihilon by XTC
Atmosphere: Fuck off.

Fuck you, world.

day 01 | a song
day 02 | a picture
day 03 | a book/ebook/fanfic
day 04 | a site
day 05 | a youtube clip
day 06 | a quote
day 07 | whatever tickles your fancy

http://www.sendspace.com/file/9nav4n

Spiked with adrenochrome.

Tunes in my head: Fracture by King Crimson
Atmosphere: Bipolar

What drives us to teach?

Is it a desire to give knowledge to those younger?

Is it that feeling that we get whenever we notice someone has "got it"?

Is it just a money making scheme to pass time while we do something else?

Is it for the holidays?

Is it for the low paydays?

Or is it legitimately for the love of the children?

Do I know?

A few thoughts.

Tunes in my head: Erotomania by Dream Theater
Atmosphere: Red fishnets.

Fantasy is an interesting concept, isn't it? The unknown, and the fascination with said things. I mean, the moment something becomes real, we can analyse it, we can deconstruct it, we can test it's genetic makeup, we can tear it apart and put it back together, we can break it down.

The fantasy may become real, we don't know that. It may become real from some sacrifice. You may have to give up time, money, or even relationships in order to somehow birth this ideal.

But are you ready to dispose of the sick half-monkey that may come as the spawn of this pursuit?

I think Edward Cullen is interesting. Ideally, perfect and yet flawed enough to be appealing. But surely that is only because of perception. If one actually spent time with Cullen, say, in a kitchen, would he be as interesting then? (Don't go OMFG EDWARD CULLEN *GASM*.) Sure, he's a great little fantasy, I suppose, but when you actually make him real, it backfires. I mean, look at the negative reaction to the films.

What then, is the point of furfilling our fantasies? If we know that it will just serve to disappoint, why bother?

I think it's because we feel compelled to. Because we don't want to be forever asking "what if?", and because there is a chance that our fantasies may in fact become true. It might not be likely, but it's certainly possible, right?

But then again, the unicorn never arrives exactly as we expect it. There come arguments, there come disputes, it's just not the same as the fantasy dictates.

Perhaps this is for the better.

Perhaps the fact that our fantasies don't come true, that there is alteration and tribulations makes it better. When the obstacle is thrown in the path of furfilling the fantasy, we become stronger people as a result of our attempts to overcome them. The fact that the girl of our dreams may be heading away, or may be in the hospital still serves to further fuel the fantasy, and when these are eventually overcome, the taste of the reward is so much sweeter as a result of fighting for it rather than just letting it fall into your lap. When you eat icecream forever, it becomes boring, bland. But when you get that one enticing lick after a diet of stones, the aroma becomes irresistable.

What do you think?

Well, I am a rain dog.

Tunes in my head: Midtown by Tom Waits
Atmosphere: Fried.

Why do we listen to music? What's the appeal?

Some people listen to it in order to just dance to, utilising the rhythmic foundation and nothing more.

Some people listen to it in an effort to annoy people - "oh, hey, Miley Cyrus is METAL, yo."

Some people listen to it in an attempt to fit in with a clique, the core contingent coming especially to mind there. I mean, sure, some people like it because of it's music, but I think a vast majority are just latching on to the latest thing.

I listen to music in an attempt to detach, to hide.

To escape from the realities of the world.

I mean, when the pain comes, the best way for me to escape is through a twenty minute funk exploration or a quirky song about rain dogs or something along those lines, right? Something I can't empathise with?

Maybe.

Some days I look for something to empathise with, something rather emotionally charged. Something where I realise that my emotions are not alone, that other people do feel like I do.

I do, really. Even though nothing could really accurately and fully empathise with me (I mean, after all, we're all unique), there are songs that I twist and which further resonate.

It's the way to cope.

Sharing a piece...

Tunes in my head: Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner by Warren Zevon
Atmosphere: Eh

Just felt like sharing this AMAZING song with you all.



Roland was a warrior from the land of the midnight sun
With a thompson gun for hire, fighting to be done
The deal was made in Denmark on a dark and stormy day
So he set out for Biafra to join the bloody fray

Through sixty-six and seven they fought the Congo war
With their fingers on their triggers, knee-deep in gore
For days and nights they battled the Bantu to their knees
They killed to earn their living and to help out the Congolese

Roland the thompson gunner

His comrades fought beside him, Van Owen and the rest
But of all the thompson gunners, Roland was the best
So the CIA decided they wanted Roland dead
That son-of-a-bitch Van Owen blew off Roland's head

Roland the headless thompson gunner
(Time, time, time
For another peaceful war)
Norway's bravest son
(But time stands still for Roland
'Til he evens up the score)
They can still see his headless body stalking through the night
In the muzzle flash of Roland's thompson gun
In the muzzle flash of Roland's thompson gun

Roland searched the continent for the man who'd done him in
He found him in Mombassa in a barroom drinking gin
Roland aimed his thompson gun, he didn't say a word
But he blew Van Owen's body from there to Johannesburg

Roland the headless thompson gunner...
The eternal thompson gunner
still wandering through the night
Now it's ten years later but he still keeps up the fight
In Ireland, in Lebanon, in Palestine and Berkeley
Patty Hearst heard the burst of Roland's thompson gun and bought it

It's opening time.

Tunes in my head: Fascination Street by The Cure
Atmosphere: Unrequited.

Dear, Suzy.

I love you more than words could ever properly say, and I highly doubt you'll ever know and realise this.

Not because I don't tell you. I try my best to tell you in my own unique, identifiable way every time I see you. I just don't think you pick up on it, nor should you. I mean, I can only reasonably expect so much. You make me smile, you make me laugh, you make me feel wanted. Even though I doubt you want me in that capacity. It's a tribute to your personality and warmth and strength of character, really.

You just have this power to light up a room, to be vivacious, to be effervescent.

I know there's a dark side within you. There is a dark side within all of us, nobody can deny that. One day I hope to be able to access this dark side. Not because I want to see you miserable. Because I want to build a strong bond with you. And I know you don't reveal that side to people. It contrasts with how I do.

To show me what there is in your potentially painful dark side would be an expression of trust. And it would make me infinitely happy, even in times of despair. To know you trust me to that level. And I'll do everything I can to make sure you're happy, to help.

I've seen you in these times of darkness. You say I make you smile. If I've helped you once through these times in any way, made your day just a little happier, then I'm happy.

I know you're reading this.

I've been in a lot of pain recently, and thinking of you has helped me survive. I'm in a risk category, 12.5%, one in eight. You make me not become a mere statistic.

Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel alive, you make me feel at home. Even though those moments come extremely rarely.

I will you see you around, that I guarantee. I never break a promise. I just don't think you fully realise.

I would push myself so far to keep you from falling off the cliff. If it came to me and you, with a deadly disease and one vial of antivenom, you'd get it, any time. Any sacrifice I could make to have you, and to keep you, I'd willingly run into it and make it.

I love unapologetically, wholly, fully. I hate to be judgemental, but from your actions, your personality, I'm pretty sure that you're the same way.

If I had my way, the feelings would be mutual, you'd be with me. Not mine...just with me. We'd work together as a cohesive unit.

I think it will happen. Maybe. One day.

I'll see you on the other side.

Love,
Page

Of all the thompson gunners, no-one was the best.

Tunes in my head: Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner by Warren Zevon
Atmosphere: Bloated.

Yeah, the party was pretty cool. Monty Python, endless amounts of food, the general orginess, the longwinded discussions about physics, not sleeping, Super Smash marathons, and the massive pillow fight with 2001 in the background.

Sorry, I'm feeling a bit blah right now...maybe later I'll write some more.

Nuuuuuuu.

Tunes in my head: Generals and Majors by XTC
Atmosphere: Nuuuuuuu.

You kids all SUCK at short notice stuff.

(turns out my ideal plan has gone from three blonde sexy Europeans staying the night to one COMING.)

Ah well.

How exactly does infatuation work?

Is it because we see ourselves happy with the person?

Or is it just because they're cute?

Or is it out of a need to make the person smile?

"Save the world complex."

I want to break the waterfall.

Tunes in my head: Sueisfine by My Bloody Valentine
Atmosphere: Lonely.

midnight wish blows me a kiss
and doesn't even linger then
it sits and stares with eyes so wide
and moves away with floating step
and when i reach to grasp the arm
of breaking down of final hope
she breaks too free to be alone
and never sees these actions through

midnight soul moves into this
and warms up the earthly shell
when beauty calls and rises tides
she steps upon the ocean wall
dislocates the person who
never wished for nothing more
than grasping by the heavens glow
and move away from seven hours

A snippet.

Tunes in my head: I Know It's Over by The Smiths
Atmosphere: Hmm...

"Writing is easy.
All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper
until drops of blood form on your forehead."
-- Gene Fowler (1890-1960)

My little in-joke.

Tunes in my head: Lies by Thompson Twins
Atmosphere: Awake

Okay, because I like my little joke...to preserve at least one line 6 free period injoke.



the old man knows very well
going down round the snow bank there's a mound
a mound that an old man knows good
look who raises his shoe all over this mound
all over the world in another rewind

and it's time time time for the last rewind
a broken old man and a world unkind
he buried all his memories of home
in an icy clump that lies beneath the ground

no-one knows how far he travelled
oh, i heard he walked miles from the little mound
can he find some shelter?
he doesn't know to behold what the cold frost can do
and at last till he realised he circled back around
round the back circle, round the back realised

it's time time time for the last rewind
a broken old man and a world unkind
he buried all his memories of home
in an icy clump that lies beneath the ground

ice is all all he was made of
the bitter blue has thawn through
he went over to the mound
reclining down his final thoughts
had drifted to a time his life had shined

and it's time time time for the last rewind
a broken old man and a world unkind
he buried all his memories of home
in an icy cloak that lies beneath the ground

and it's time time time for the last rewind
a broken old man and a world unkind
he buried all his memories of home
in an icy cloak that lies beneath the ground

Twenty thousand miles to an oasis.

Tunes in my head: Road by Nick Drake
Atmosphere: Eh.

It's interesting how our biological makeup can affect us psychologically. Apparently, of the replaceable cells in our bodies (i.e. not brain or nerve cells), we are completely replaced, we are a new person, every twelve years.

In my case, I can see where it's coming from. I used to be a genius level mathematician. Now I'm a playwright (I don't think genius level. Apparently very good, but we're our own worst critics.)

It's amazing how quickly change can come forth.

I mean, twelve years is nothing for a completely different person to emerge.

Will I be an accountant at 30? Possibly.

It's amazing how quickly change can happen in the eyes of others, though.

Within a few days we can see a complete change.

I mean, the "innocent young girl" stereotype can be destroyed by one false step.

(not that it has yet, my dear. not that it has yet.)

--

So here we are. Two hundred posts.

Two hundred little snippets of what goes through my mind.

I'm amazed if you've read them all. (and scared)

Firstly, I'll repeat what I asked at one hundred.

If the blog has had even one moment that has touched you or made you think or hit you on an emotional level or whatever, could you please tell me in a comment? I feel the need to know.

As much as I say "oh, no, I write for myself", I do write for you, the readers, as well. Ergo I would like to know if I've achieved my aim of hitting you. On an emotional level, an intellectual one, whatever.

Secondly, thank you Suzy, I love you.

Thirdly, if you read this, could you please just comment with your name (and credit card numbers?)

I'm often amazed at the sheer variety of people who read this. I used to think I'd get eight or ten readers tops.

Apparently I have somewhere in the region of sixty to a hundred.

(at a rough guess.)

So just knowing who exactly they are and how many of you there are would ease my mind slightly.

No, knowing who does and doesn't will not censor my posts.

It's just for pure maths sakes...

Yes, even if I know you read (coughbascough), comment anyway...it makes the maths easier.

And yes, I know some of you refuse to name yourself (bloody anonymouses.) Just post anyway with some identifying feature so I can distinguish.

Fourthly, I'm going to put up a musical present in an hour or so. I don't expect you to listen (although I'd really LIKE you to at least try it.)

Just consider it my present to you guys.

(EDIT: It'll be up overnight, check tomorrow. No, this isn't a plot to attract viewers.)

EDIT 2: Musical gift #1 - http://www.sendspace.com/file/4bhw3a

Thanks very much for continually reading, and keep doing so...
Liam McCann
07/10/2009

The time at the water tower.

Tunes in my head: Time After Time (Annalise) by R.E.M.
Atmosphere: Okay

Firstly, a note.

This is my little corner of the internet. This is my chance to express myself. Creatively, emotionally, spiritually.

Lately I have felt unable to express myself in at least one, possibly more of these ways, among others, due to the negative comments that I occasionally get from anonymous (not so?) commenters.

THIS STOPS NOW.

I don't really care whether you have something harsh to say or not. Like it or not, those comments upset me.

Come on, guys. You've been reading this for how long? You should know by now that anonymously harsh comments upset me.

If you have a problem with something here, and you wish to express it, fine. Email me. Or leave a comment with your name.

You all know how I feel about people running away from issues. If there is an issue, for fuck's sakes confront me about it so we can work out a solution that's good for both of us. You should all know by now that I'm not even slightly focused on me when someone else has a problem.

This is my place for expression.

--

There was a time when we walked, slowly, cautiously.
We made our way to the water tower above the town.
In this, our bodies met the delightful clanging of steel.
The rhapsody of a flesh's vibraphone on metal.
Even when the searchlights burned through, we laughed.
A joyous innocence met the glance of the outside.
When we descended, arm in chain in arm.
There was this devilish smirk, highlighted by green flashes.
This was the way in which two companions had made it.
Their ultimate act of defiance, still somewhat innocent.
And twenty years later, with weariness under their sleeves.
It resurfaced in the words, and was smiled upon like before.
For time after time, it always met the happiness at the crossroad.
Even when the consequences resurfaced, even if they interlocked.
This was the story of two friends, forever chained by this.
But they wouldn't have given anything to take a second chance.

Now I'm bleeding, somehow.

Tunes in my head: Watch Me Bleed by Tears For Fears
Atmosphere: Eh...productive

Okay, time to drown a bit...

AND NOW FOR THE MOST BORING BLOG IN EXISTENCE, LIAM'S HSC TIMETABLE.

English Paper 1: 21st October, 9:20 - 11:30am
English Paper 2: 23rd October, 9:25 - 11:30am
Ancient History: 26th October, 1:55 - 5:00pm
Music 1: 27th October, 1:55 - 3:00pm
English Extension 1: 30th October, 9:25 - 11:30am
Modern History: 3rd November, 9:25 - 12:30pm
History Extension: 6th November, 1:55 - 4:00pm
Drama: 12th November, 1:55 - 3:30pm

Whoever wants to go and party at 4pm on 12th of November, tell me now.

Time to escape...

I also need to figure out how to ban anonymous posting.

A shyness, criminal in nature.

Tunes in my head: I Know It's Over by The Smiths
Atmosphere: Sad

Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
And as I climb into an empty bed
Oh well. Enough said.
I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Oh ...
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
See, the sea wants to take me
The knife wants to slit me
Do you think you can help me ?
Sad veiled bride, please be happy
Handsome groom, give her room
Loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly
(Though she needs you
More than she loves you)

And I know it's over - still I cling
I don't know where else I can go
Over and over and over and over
Over and over, la ...
I know it's over
And it never really began
But in my heart it was so real
And you even spoke to me, and said:

"If you're so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
And if you're so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight ?
If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight ?
I know ...
'Cause tonight is just like any other night
That's why you're on your own tonight
With your triumphs and your charms
While they're in each other's arms..."

It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
Over, over, over, over
It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes guts to be gentle and kind
Over, over
Love is Natural and Real
But not for you, my love
Not tonight, my love
Love is Natural and Real
But not for such as you and I, my love

Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my ...
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can even feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my ...

I'm pretty fucking lonely.

I'm scared of all of this change.

I'm not as strong as you all think. When paired with a friend, I can support them, they can support me. When alone, I crumble badly.

I don't express it sometimes, but you do make me smile. You make me happy, you make me feel not alone. And you know that that's a very rare feeling for me.

It makes the abandonment so much harder to cope with.

I'm now just scared of hurting you. So scared.

Because I don't want to drive you farther away.

Some creature has been stirred.

Tunes in my head: The Fountain of Salmacis by Genesis
Atmosphere: Empty

There's this void living inside me.

It's going ever bigger by the day, by the second.

It literally makes it so hard to breathe, to move.

There's all of this pain racking my body.

Is it a result of the void that lives inside of me?

Because fuck it, I really want it to stop.

But I don't know what the hell to do.

I'm scared, guys.

I'm really scared.

Cried all night down the phone.

Tunes in my head: Sentimental Heart by She and Him
Atmosphere: Foreboding

I think the whole "end of the world in 2012" is very interesting and one issue that should be explored in further detail.

This is all a little rusty in my mind, by the way, so feel free to correct me on any inaccuracies.

Basically, the Mayan calendar exists in 500ish (I want to say 509, but don't quote me) year sections? And every time a new phase is introduced, the world enters a new phase.

In their culture, this could have been a new settlement, what have you.

For example, in the 1000's (1027ish?), the Aztec civilisation was founded, and in 1519, the same culture was destroyed by the Spanish under Cortez.

If these effects were echoed worldwide on the turning of the clock, perhaps we're consciously running towards the end of the world?

Perhaps it will happen, perhaps it won't.

Perhaps it will usher in a new era of science, of technology, of culture.

We shall see.

--

It's amazing, the cybernetic nature of today's society.

I mean, what are you reading this on, exactly?

But I just find it amazing how dependent we've become on these devices.

People having multiple laptops, mobile phones, iPhones, all so they can not be bored for one brief moment.

And instead we get some sort of comatose generation lacking inspiration, lacking creativity, because they're constantly being stimulated, they're constantly being assaulted by technology.

I mean, I'm not saying I'm immune to it...I generally carry a phone and an iPod on me for long bus rides or so I can be contacted in public.

But there are people with a laptop, a phone (with Mobile Facebook, naturally), an iPod, possibly a portable DVD player, too. All on their chairs.

What's the point? Get out paper and pen and actually do something different.

Think about some other way of doing things.

I remember hearing of a student who could only write one paragraph for their creative story which they had 40 minutes to write.

Are we coming to the point where the youth simply does not think? Where it sort of sits comatosely and just accepts what is fed to them?

If so, there needs to be a change.

It's raining hammers, it's raining pins.

Tunes in my head: Time by Tom Waits
Atmosphere: Exhausted

Chris' was quite good...drunken FIFA, poker and just idiots having fun together.

I'm fucking exhausted...haven't slept in 32 hours...

More to come later.

One will move in fantasy.

Tunes in my head: Losing It by Rush
Atmosphere: Depressed

I don't understand why I still feel this way. It leads to pain, to hurt, to an emptiness inside of me.

But I can't control my own emotions, my feelings, my thoughts, my ideals.

It's scaring me. The constant thinking, the racing of so many ideals and wants and needs and this emotional whirring.

But I really don't know what to do.

I'm just...scared, I guess. And I need that in order to get my mind off what is hurting, what is slowly and painfully killing me.

I'm just sorry for being me.

There is so much pain contained within me...and I feel I'm unfairly subjecting you to it, sometimes.

But that's a result of how we work, I suppose.

I can't go much farther without you. I'm disintegrating. Quickly. And you know it. And I know, you're not doing so well yourself.

But we can support each other. Pain is easier to deal with when it's a shared experience.

The lonesome victim.

Tunes in my head: I Am A Lonesome Fugitive by Leo Kottke and Mike Gordon
Atmosphere: Creative

She lay on the bed, writhing and begging for mercy.

Her face contorted itself into a number of different, equally agonising positions, each of them showing the pain within her soul. Eyes raging with the needles of fear. Mouth torn apart amongst itself, into so many different pieces.

There was no light within the room. No light within the person.

She was all alone in her cell, with no way of escape. No way to break free from this dangerous situation.

There was no window to reveal any semblence of respite, no light beaming it's way through.

She unconsciously echoed the few words in between her ears. Endlessly, namelessly. The words continued to spin on an unending loop.

Her blonde hair was in shreds on the floor.

--

This is the idea I intend on running with in November.

Some strange choices.

Tunes in my head: Experience by Gentle Giant
Atmosphere: Wishing.

It's amazing what we think in hindsight, isn't it?

I think I had a chance to make myself very happy today.

And possibly to make someone else very happy as well.

I'm not quite sure.

But for whatever reason, I decided not to take the chance.

And maybe that's for the better, y'know?

But now I'm forever stuck asking what if.

At least for a few brief moments, the passing of weeks.

Should I have made the move to kiss her passionately, emotionally?

It would have made an amazing moment, wouldn't it?

But at the same time, the fear of what else could have happened drove me to that conclusion.

At least this time I will get a chance to make it right. If I still feel the need.

Water falls from the nozzle, not the sky.

Tunes in my head: Neverland by Marillion
Atmosphere: How dare you.

Picnic day was quite good. Despite being a crappy day for a picnic, the whole waterfight was pretty fun, except for the mad chafing at the end.

When the darkness takes me over
Face down, emptier than zero
Invisible you come to me
..quietly
Stay beside me
Whisper to me "Here I am"
And the loneliness fades

Some people think I'm somethin'
Well you gave me that, I know
But I always feel like nothing
When I'm in the dark alone

You provide the soul, the spark that drives me on
Makes me something more than flesh and bone

At times like these
Any fool can see
Any fool can see
Your love inside me

All these years
Truth In front of my eyes
While I denied
What my heart knows was right

At times like these
Any fool can see
Any fool can see
Your love inside me

I want to be someone
I want to be someone
I want to be someone
Who someone would want to be
Someone would want to be

Wendy
Darling
In the kitchen
With your dreams

Will you fly
again
Take to the sky
again

Undo the hooks
Once and for all
Banish the tic tic tic tok tok tok
Again

Will you be
Yourself for me
Cause I can take it
I can stand
Anything

When you're with me
I can stand it
I can stand

But when you're gone
I never land
In Neverland

Want to be someone someone would want to be
someone someone would want to be
someone someone would want to be
someone someone someone someone

Any fool
Any fool can see
Any fool can see
Your love
Inside me

Touched by the wings of the angel.

Tunes in my head: Touched by My Bloody Valentine
Atmosphere: Go fuck yourself.

I'll start this incredibly negative post on two positive points.

Firstly.

I love Girraween 09. Grad was awesome, I have no idea how many hugs I got at the end. Yes, I did cry. It was emotional. I love you and miss you all.

Secondly.

You know I love you to bits. You know I'll always listen. You know I care. This problem is nothing. You and I both know that. Let me help, you know why I want to. Just let me help you through this...and the rest will sort itself out.

And now for the twister.

FUCK YOU YOU BITCH, WHY THE FUCK CAN'T YOU GET OUT OF MY FUCKING LIFE. I HATE YOUR FUCKING GUTS AND I HOPE YOU DIE IN A GUTTER LIKE MOST OF YOUR KIND. ONLY ADDICTS WHO WASTE HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF OTHER PEOPLE'S MONEY DESERVE TO EVEN SOCIALISE WITH A RAT LIKE YOU. YOU MAKE ME WANT TO KILL MYSELF SO I DON'T HAVE TO BE ON THE SAME PLANET AS FUCKING VERMIN LIKE YOU. WHY THE FUCK CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE?

I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU.

I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU.

I DON'T WANT TO EVER HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN.

GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE.

To only knows who.

Tunes in my head: When You Sleep by My Bloody Valentine
Atmosphere: Happy

Apparently I'm the love child of Samuel Beckett and Germaine Greer, according to Mike.

Thank you all. From the bottom of my heart.

As up and down as it may have been on occasion, it really has been an honour to grow up as people with you all.

The pleasure and the priviledge has been mine and mine alone.

I'm just feeling jubilation right now. Happiness. Almost speechless.

To all the people who wrote on me today, thank you very much. So very much. Even the seemingly generic messages mean something to me.

The story is just beginning, my friends.

This chapter may be coming to it's conclusive moments, but the book is just being opened. New oppurtunities are becoming evident by the day.

Time to take life as it comes.

Keep in touch. Keep reading. My story is just beginning. Our story is just beginning.

Even if we disappear from each other, there will always be remergences, there will always be appearances, there will always be reminders.

To my seniors. Thank you, Michael. Thank you, Scott. Thank you, Lesley. Thank you, Lyn. Thank you, Trevor. Thank you, Andrew. Thank you, Julie. Thank you, Rob. Thank you, Janelle. Thank you, Joshua.

To my peers. Thank you, Chris. Thank you, Rhiannon. Thank you, Rebecca. Thank you, Sarah. Thank you, Anna. Thank you, Hans. Thank you, Katrin. Thank you, Thomas. Thank you, George. Thank you, Peter. Thank you, Leo. Thank you, Ivana. Thank you, Olivia. Thank you, Clinton. Thank you, Ankesh. Thank you, Cheng. Thank you, Shirley. Thank you, Bas. Thank you, everyone who didn't write on me who knows they're important to me.

It's been such a wild ride. I think I'll end with this song.

Well I'm needing less restraint than before
Well I'm needing to hit the lights and close the door
I'm fine, I'm fine
Cause I'm

Dripping in this strange design
None is yours and far less mine
Hold the wheel, read the sign
Keep the tires off the line
Just relax, you're doing fine
Swimming in this real thing I call life
Can I bring a few companions on this ride?

Well I'm feeling, my heart's not beating anymore
Well I'm feeling. it's alright, this happened once before
I'm fine, I'm fine
Cause I'm

Dripping in this strange design
None is yours and far less mine
Hold the wheel, read the sign
Keep the tires off the line
Just relax, you're doing fine
Swimming in this real thing I call life
Can I bring a few companions on this ride?

Thankyou, and for now, goodbye.

- Liam McCann
30/09/09

I'll never lay down the phone.

To Scott.

(I can call you that now, right? Considering I'll only be a student for another two days.
Oh, come on. I'll pay you in icecream pizza.
Please?
Okay, fine.
If it really offends you to be called that, just replace all instances of your name with
“Mr S. Henretty” or something.
I mean, you'll always be “sir” to me, so whatever, homie.
ANYWAY, THIS TOMFOOLERY SHOULD CEASE NOW.
ENOUGH.)

I don't know where to really start with this, so I guess the beginning is probably the best place to do such.

I remember distinctly the first school day of 2006. I'm sure you remember it vaguely too. My distinct memory is being over the other side of the room from this arsehole. He was operating some overhead projector and practically acting like Hitler. I recall thinking to myself “oh, what a fucking arsehole, this year is going to be absolute utter torture.”

Oh, how wrong I was.

Two weeks later, I come into the class, dreading the next hour. The person leading the class, however, had changed. Not physically, he was still the same not-so-young (heh) teacher who was there before. In terms of what he said, what he did, however, he had vastly changed.

I realise now he was merely revealing his true self.

Now there was this eccentric, extremely funny, quintessentially sarcastic British bastard.

I start liking English soon after. Coincidence? Maybe so. Maybe not. Over the ongoing year, I made a note of my own personal behaviour. Instead of being the shy kid who would hide inside his shell like I was previously, I started to emerge from the cacoon a bit. I decided to talk more, to go on a limb, to take a chance. To not be afraid of who I am.

I mean, when you've got an enthusiastic, full on teacher talking to you (not at you, as previous experiences had shown,) what's the point of holding back and hiding? Reveal who one is.

Eventually, to speed the story up, I ended up doing Drama, possibly as a direct result of this madman, possibly not. (I can't remember exactly.) I started leaning heavily towards the Arts side of the subject spectrum. I started writing more. Short stories at first, then poems, then scenes, and finally plays. I started being more experimental in myself and living on the edge.

Who do you think influenced this?

I know.

I distinctly remember one conversation from Year 9. I had recently read the Kafka short story At Night, which goes as follows.

Deeply lost in the night.
Just as one sometimes lowers one’s head to reflect, thus to be utterly lost in the night.
All around people are asleep.
Its just play-acting, an innocent self- deception, that they sleep in houses, in safe beds, under a safe roof, stretched out or curled up on mattresses, in sheets, under blankets; in reality they have flocked together as they had once upon a time and again later in a deserted region, a camp in the open, a countless number of men, an army, a people, under a cold sky on cold earth, collapsed where once they had stood, forehead pressed on the arm, face to the ground, breathing quietly.
And you are watching, are one of the watchmen, you find the next one by brandishing a burning stick from the brushwood pile beside you.
Why are you watching?
Someone must watch, it is said.
Someone must be there.

At some point, I had brought this up in class. We had a brief discussion about this, but it obviously resonated for a long time. Perhaps because I felt a connection with a teacher on an intellectual level for the first time?

I mean, I can still remember it vividly, in Technicolour detail, can't I? Surely that says something?

I'm sure you've heard that I've fought depression a lot. Or even just guessed it through your own observations. (This story isn't about me, though.)

What I do remember is that you'd always be saying some ridiculous joke or comment in order to make me and everyone around you smile. It probably isn't anything to you, but it is to me.

I decided recently that I may like to become a teacher. (I'm not entirely sure.) People laugh at this visual, but whatever. What you probably don't know is that this one English teacher who had boundless enthusiasm for the students was what influenced me.

You're like one of us, and that's what makes me feel comfortable in writing this, in talking to you about this. It makes me want to help you out wherever I can. I feel there's some debt that I owe. And there needs to be repayment.

(is whiskey acceptable?)

I have an immense amount of respect for you, Scott. But I'm sure you know that by now. And when you see some play or movie from me in ten years time, you know that it's at least a little bit for you. I don't think comments or criticism from anyone else about The Last Rewind really meant anything. I felt most in tune, most at home with all of your ideas. I didn't take them all on board, of course not. But I could see myself coming up with them. I'm sure you've noticed that throughout the past year.

To wrap it up, thank you so much for everything. I owe you endlessly.
- Liam McCann
29/09/09

Heaven is yours.

Tunes in my head: Wading In The Velvet Sea by Phish
Atmosphere: Wading in the velvet sea.

Letters.

They're a contradiction in kind.

They are one of the most detached forms of communication possible, really.

There's no face to face communication, no verbal exchange.

And yet you can encapsulate such emotion within them.

You can be totally honest, in a way...

It's just interesting how we can be so detached and yet so intimate.

We can tell truths we wouldn't be able to say anywhere else.

Down to Memphis, small city...

Tunes in my head: Mind by Talking Heads
Atmosphere: Wet

It's amazing how characteristics can be portrayed as positive or negative in certain lights, I think.

Selflessness.

Or selfishness.

Or intensity.

Or passion.

Or intelligence.

Or stupidity.

Just a thought.

Perspective has really been fucking with me this year. Looking at people's viewpoints.

It's changed my outlook on life, slightly.

It's also made me doubt myself so highly.

Sometimes I can't even speak through it.

Which is awfully stifling.

Xylophone's hanging clear.

Tunes in my head: Mermaid Smiled by XTC
Atmosphere: Eh...okay?

Loneliness is such a painful thing.

Sometimes it actually physically hurts.

I can't breathe, my arms tingle.

For once, I don't feel it.

For once, the pain's been lifted, I guess.

Hopefully this won't be shortlived.

Chez louree.

Tunes in my head: Gumbo by Phish
Atmosphere: Lonely

Is it time to run?

The concept of running makes me angry. Even if sometimes it's the best option.

The fact that one would rather simply flee than stay and make an attempt.

Cowardice.

I suppose it's part of the human instinct.

To escape harm.

But isn't that rather selfish?

To escape harm even though another is in it.

Don't be surprised when a crack in the ice appears under your feet.

Tunes in my head: The Thin Ice by Pink Floyd
Atmosphere: Depressed...fuck

We can only really evade pain for a brief period.

Shall we continue to attempt to evade it?

Or shall we face it face on?

Each side has their positives and negatives, I suppose.

One must weigh up the positives and negatives.

And only then can the judgement be made.

--

The end of school scares me in a way.

We're about to break free from the conventions that have defined the previous six years.

We're about to go on our own individual paths. Most likely, we will never be the same one hundred and thirty of us again. If you gather us into a room in a year or even three months, I guarantee the dynamic would have changed.

People change so quickly.

All it takes is a sentence, a phrase, a word.

And a person is irreplaceably changed.

This can be a positive or a negative, depending on perspective.

It took one hundred and thirty three of us to build the bridge.

It took merely two to burn it down.

--

A person cannot build a bridge by themselves.

But they can destroy it by themselves.

You can feel good...good about hood.

Tunes in my head: The Curtain With by Phish
Atmosphere: Depressed

I'm a bit wrecked right now.

Kirrily/Tash's was quite good. Singstar, random balloon popping, incoherence...

Yet, there was still the thing about people. I found myself randomly crashing and becoming very depressed around nine o'clock. I feel this was due to the lack of connection between some of the people there, and the fact that some of the others I did know were not exactly the people who I feel comfortable around.

And so the facade went up.

Even when we were having some sort of intimate conversation, it eventually became too crowded and I felt that this really threw me emotionally.

(not to mention thinking fucking sucks.)

I revealed some things to certain people who I didn't particularly want to.

Not because they're neccesarily bad, it's just that certain things should be reserved for certain people.

Hypocrisy pisses me off, by the way.

How dare you expect one thing and then retract?

I am a facade in a lot of ways. Very few people see the true me. And even more rarely do they realise.

Am I an introvert or an extrovert? It still confuses me.

I'm leaving you a message,
I'm leaving you a trace,
I'm leaving thoughts for you
I hope that time will not erase.
And when the moment comes
To read the words that I engraved,
You'll find them on the walls of the cave,
Of the cave.

I know you heard the question
But you didn't make a sound,
And when it fell you caught my heart
Before it hit the ground.
But if you ever need the names
Of those you couldn't save,
You'll find them on the walls of the cave.
You'll find them on the walls of the cave.

Look at me and time stands still
A mountain here is now a hill.
Look away,
Look away,
The time goes past.
These rocks will fall away at last.
Look away.
Maybe you will see it
As you're passing by alone,
Below the moss forgotten
where some words that turned to stone.
It might have been an etching
On a marker of a grave,
Or maybe on the walls of the cave.

Listen to
The silent trees
But still your words float on the breeze
Look away
I see them all
Carved into the cavern wall

Perception.

Tunes in my head: Swept Away by Phish
Atmosphere: Rested

It's interesting to see what people's perceptions of you are.

Someone described me as a highly extroverted person yesterday. (No, I'm not saying who.)

See, they listed some things about me that seemingly make me an extrovert - eccentricity, love of the stage, weird sense of humour...

But then again, I look at myself and see more things that would label me as an introvert. I generally try to shy away from large social gatherings, I hate going on the stage (although admittedly I love coming off it, great feeling.) I often find myself without much to say in conversation recently, although when I do get on a sort of roll it becomes easier.

I even hide behind things, physical things. The glasses, the long hair, the beard. People see it as a chance to be different. I don't, I just want to hide. Prevent people from seeing me.

They say an introvert has a few close friends, and an extrovert has many.

This is possibly the biggest difference. I don't see myself as one with a massive friend circle. I only see myself as a person with a few close friends...

Massive social gatherings scare me to an extent. And I hide behind it by being the eccentric bastard I am. People assume that's just me being massively outgoing.

But such is life...we fear.

A few people have seen the softer side to me. The person who gets easily hurt, the person who softly talks about things at the early hours. The person who just sits and listens, who doesn't say much because they don't know the words to say.

Should I actively try to bring this side out more?

Time after time, Annalise...

Will the water tear me down?

Tunes in my head: First Tube by Trey Anastasio
Atmosphere: Eh, okay

Pain brings out the best in some, the worst in others.

But ideally should be avoided by all.

When pain is one that can be so easily avoided, how should one feel when it isn't?

Am I not allowed to feel anymore?

What an absurd request.

I tried.

I play the game, but the pieces are gone.

i stick with the fallen to the skin of the stone
and look around seeing i'm not alone
there was a soul that sang a sweet song
and for that moment i felt i belong
words can be muttered, words can be murmured
it doesn't give us a feeling of strange sense of firmer
touched by the hand of a damaged machine
it doesn't let up it's hands aren't clean

i lie with the fallen and look at the cloud
there's some things to do that aren't so allowed
even if told that you always feel
it's not like staying on an even keel
i tried so hard to just make the move
but when you break down it's not just the mood
i danced with volcanos on the lip and the edge
but then i fell and i broke off the ledge

Blown by a wish.

Tunes in my head: What You Want by My Bloody Valentine
Atmosphere: Cheerful

tell me about this life
and how to properly lead it
it's not so much desired
but then again they all do
soon comes the sand
that washes over shore
and then it's missing
all gone down

tell me about this day
it's just gone by fast
fleeting moment lapses
to there knows when
torture to slow
and then to breakdown
racing by quickly
no chance to breathe

There won't be time to stash the gumbo.

Tunes in my head: Gumbo by Phish
Atmosphere: Pissed off.

Promises are just designed to be broken, aren't they?

They aren't even things that are really that hard to keep.

We built the bridges. We tore them down.

Tunes in my head: Kohoutek by R.E.M.
Atmosphere: Eh...

Stipe's words always made me kind of stare in amazement. Full of imagery and evokative emotions.

And yet at the same time, deliberately oblique and confused.

What do you think?



Who will stand alone?

She carried ribbons, she wore them out
Courage built a bridge, jealous tore it down
At least it's something you've left behind
Like Kohoutek, you were gone

We sat in the garden, we stood on the porch
I won't deny myself, we never talked

She wore bangles, she wore bells
On her toes and she jumped like a fish
Like a flyin' friend, you were gone
Like Kohoutek, can't forget that

Fever built a bridge, reason tore it down
If I am one to follow, who will stand alone?

Maybe you're not the problem
Scissors, paper, stone
If you stand and holler, these prayers will talk

She carried ribbons, she wore them out
Michael built a bridge, Michael tore it down
At least it's something you've left behind
Like Kohoutek, you were gone

Michael built a bridge, Michael tore it down
If I stand and holler, will I stand alone?

It's a God awful small affair.

Tunes in my head: Life On Mars? by David Bowie
Atmosphere: Confused.

Oooh, Zooey Deschanel.

She's purty, she's cute.

And I wub her so much.

I'm going to see (500) Days of Summer either tonight or tomorrow.

Just to stare at her for a couple of hours.

and remove myself from the torture of thinking

Central rain.

I'm sorry.

When I feel one is slipping, I grasp for it.

And yet they slip further.

And so I panic.

I'm not quite myself right now.

The divorce is really fucking with my head.

The HSC is really fucking with my head.

My own personal life, my friendships, are really fucking with my head.

One of those will be gone soon enough.

The second in just two months.

When will the third resolve itself?

I don't know.

Hopefully soon.

People probably have noticed that if you just sit down and talk to me, I generally feel okay.

Last night I had a massive anxiety attack and a massive panic attack.

And so I needed help.

Unfortunately, time was not correct.

Still, humans require help in bizarre situations at strange times.

It's all gone before too long.

Tunes in my head: Kohoutek by R.E.M.
Atmosphere: Depressed. Insomnia.

I haven't smiled properly in weeks.

I haven't slept properly in weeks.

I don't sleep, I dream.

I have all of these pain filled dreams.

Physically and psychologically.

I'm finding it hard to get the strength to rise from bed every morning.

There's no end goal, no achievement.

No incentive.

Not anymore.

I'm finding joy to be a hard thing to find right now.

Maybe that's the way it's meant to be.

Happiness is the road...but it's so long right now.

It's a long path to traverse.

So it seems.

Will it become easier as I step further?

Or will it become harder as it seems to have been so far?

I'm falling further and further...the abyss is a hard place to land.

I tried to bush back to the shack.

Tunes in my head: Andelman's Yard by Mike Gordon
Atmosphere: Scared

Just had a bit of a crazy dream.

People walking mechanically and emotionlessly into the path of a moving train, aware of their fate but not fearing it.

Any idea what it could mean?

Pack mentality.

Tunes in my head: Joy by Phish
Atmosphere: Depressed...but a bit better.

It's interesting how the pack mentality works.

How we think as a group.

How even our moods can be affected by this.

Is it because we conform, or just because we're lazy and it's easier?

I'm sorry.

Tunes in my head: Run Like An Antelope by Phish
Atmosphere: Snapped.

I'm sorry.

I need your support.

Did I go the wrong way about it? Maybe so.

Maybe not.

I don't know. The point is that you make me feel like I can do anything. And without you having my back, I'm disintegrating.

But okay. All I want is to have you back as a friend. If it takes time...I'll try. I'll try so fucking hard. That's all.

I snapped at school today.

Broke a lightswitch. Punched a brick wall.

It all came to a head, and these two blonde bitches decided it'd be fun to push their luck.

I punched in a wall. I screamed.

The scary thing is that I don't feel like I got ANYTHING out.

All of these emotions, all of this tension, all of this pain. All still there. Nothing's been resolved inside me as a part of this. I'm crying on a daily basis because I'm holding all of this pain.

I can't fucking let it go.

My parents breaking up, the whole drug abuse thing, dislocation and detachment, everything is just adding to the pain. I can't get a fucking break, it seems. I can't even get a chance to catch my breath. And it's suffocating.

I can't even hold myself together for a day. For a minute. For a second. Every little step leads to a fall.

I need help.

I need to escape this pain.

It's getting worse. Constantly worse.

Please.

Under a blood red sky...

Tunes in my head: Good Times Bad Times by Phish
Atmosphere: Creeped out.

The sky is an orangey red here this morning.

Is this an omen?

If so, what for?

I wonder why it is the way it is...not being a geographical expert.

Perhaps we're all gonna fuckin die? :P

Nah, not likely.

It's a real sense of beauty, though. I haven't had it for months, really.

If the world ended right now...I'd be content.

I'd tell the people who I loved that I did, and that'd be it.

I mean, I can't exactly stop it, can I?

A notice.

Tunes in my head: Kiss of Life by Peter Gabriel
Atmosphere: Whirring.

Okay, listen up.

You all know the situation with my parents. My mum is a drug addicted bitch, my dad is starting divorce proceedings as soon as possible. (tomorrow, hopefully.)

As a result, I'm going to be in a bit of a state of influx for the next few months. Prepare for insane mood swings, prepare for me actually needing you a lot, prepare to me possibly crashing at your places, prepare for me to generally be in a really rough state.

I need all of your help. To get through this.

With it, I know I can.

Without it, I don't know.

Are you with me?

You're just a sledgehammer.

Tunes in my head: Layla by Derek and the Dominoes
Atmosphere: Hurt

It hits me like a hammer.

Hits me like a sledgehammer.

The pain.

So sudden in it's advance.

And so long lasting in it's effect.

Make it stop.

Please.

Falling off the tightrope.

Tunes in my head: Esther by Phish
Atmosphere: Depressed.

Are you even trying?

Can't you see what this is doing to me?

Its's all a double standard. It's all saying something to me and doing something with someone else.

And it's fucking killing me, can't you see?

I am constantly in tears. Constantly dying.

And yet you seem to be content to kick me further down.

I give you everything. You can never deny that.

And yet it never gets accepted.

I gave you everything I could. I gave emotional intimacy. You know why it's such a rare thing for me to give that. You know why I don't give myself often.

You're going down the same path yourself.

You have something. We have such an emotional connection. And yet you continue to deny it, you continue to push me away.

You're scared. You're scared of losing people you care about. And you don't know how to deal with it. So you push me farther and farther away. Because you know how close we were. How close we are.

You need to stop pushing.

Because eventually you will push everything away.

At this rate, I won't even make it to November. I'm dying so fast.

You know for a fact I'd give anything to have you back, to have you rebuild me.

You know the happiest days of my recent life.

You know why they were happy.

And you choose to slowly depart from there?

You're so confused...but you know you're running down the wrong path.

We can all see it.

I'M FUCKING DYING. THERE IS NO IFS OR BUTS ABOUT IT. DO SOMETHING. I CAN'T HANG ON FOR MUCH LONGER. PLEASE, I BEG YOU.

What would you do if I were gone?

I bet you wouldn't even be upset.

Because I'm not the shiny new thing anymore.

And dead.

The words resound and echo through.

Tunes in my head: Round Room by Phish
Atmosphere: Miserable.

Promises are everything to me.

Do you choose not to make it because you understand that breaking them kills me?

Or do you choose not to make it because you feel detached, disconnected?

Either way, I hope you know it utterly kills me.

You know how I get worked up on promises.

And yet you continue to hurt, to cause pain.

Still, I can understand where you're coming from.

And I appreciate it.

Just know that no matter which solution is taken, they all cause pain.

Freedom is a movement, a living reaction.

Tunes in my head: The Enemy Within by Rush
Atmosphere: I'm okay.

Fear is such a contradiction.

On one hand, it propells us to great heights. Surely people fear when they do something like jump off a bridge or start a revolution.

And the fear powers them.

And yet fear also drives us away.

It's an enemy within us. It kills us slowly.

We fear when we attempt to make a change.

We fear the consequences of this change.

Can we try to utilise this fear to create adrenaline?

Maybe.

To die by my side, oh isn't it a pleasant way to die?

Tunes in my head: There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths
Atmosphere: Okay

Take me out tonight
Where theres music and theres people
And theyre young and alive
Driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I havent got one
Anymore

Take me out tonight
Because I want to see people and i
Want to see life
Driving in your car
Oh, please dont drop me home
Because its not my home, its their
Home, and Im welcome no more

And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure - the privilege is mine

Take me out tonight
Take me anywhere, I dont care
I dont care, I dont care
And in the darkened underpass
I thought oh god, my chance has come at last
(but then a strange fear gripped me and i
Just couldnt ask)

Take me out tonight
Oh, take me anywhere, I dont care
I dont care, I dont care
Driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I havent got one, da ...
Oh, I havent got one

And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure - the privilege is mine

Such a romantic fantasy, isn't it?

To die beside your beloved.

But how often do we even remain with them to die with?

I'm sure it's not common. I'm sure that this notion is at best extremely rare.

But what do you know.

Self doubt is a beautiful thing.

It manages to destroy every single movement in a person's body.

All because we have some fear instilled into us.

She took me outta work that day.

Tunes in my head: Nellie Cane by Phish
Atmosphere: Depressed

You know, writing isn't even my preferred method of release, of coping.

It's just the only one where I feel I can actually get listened to.

It's the only one where I don't get attacked for actually having emotions, the only one where I don't get shot down for feeling.

When I actually say "I feel this, I feel that" and be honest, people say I shouldn't be feeling it. People insult me, cut me down for it.

So I write. And it's not my preferred way of communication.

Even when I write to someone, it often happens that they don't realise.

But writing's my only outlet. The only place where I can truly be honest, where I can talk.

It's a sad state of affairs.

I feel so detached. So alone. So isolated.

I don't know if I can continue taking it from all sides anymore.

So much pain over such a long time.

I need a respite.

Please. Give it to me.

I won't shiver in the cold.

Tunes in my head: Collapse The Light Into Earth by Porcupine Tree
Atmosphere: Lonely. Miserable. I FUCKING MISS YOU.

I won't shiver in the cold
I won't let the shadows take their toll
I won't cover my head in the dark
And I won't forget you when we part
Collapse the light into earth

I won't heal given time
I won't try to change your mind
I won't feel better in the cold light of day
But I wouldn't stop you if you wanted to stay
Collapse the light into earth



There's nothing more to it. Really.

And you've just something to make me miss you more. Fantastic.

The love is replaced by fear.

Tunes in my head: True Faith by New Order
Atmosphere: Miserable

I will never stop. I will fight.

There is nothing you can do to stop me.

You may think you can control how you feel.

You know that's not correct.

Feelings are things that throw us around.

But they are also things that give us hope.

Vague little things...

Three little birds, chirping away.

I will never die.

And I will always.

There will never be any doubt about that.

unruly boys, unruly girls

Tunes in my head: The Collins Missile by Leo Kottke and Mike Gordon
Atmosphere: Helping

i'd like to be some sort of idealistic figure
but the day comes and a crack is formed
i'd like to tell the world, the leader
that to pretend is farce and to satire is true

in the middle of the street the voices mutter
in their own distinguishable tones
they hear me sleep they see me dream
and they enviously mumble degrading words

i'd like to be some positive point
but the final stand has been made
if the people continue to murmur
i swear, i really will turn to murder

i keep myself in mind when voices run through
their footsteps echo ten thousand times
and as they tell me to simply hang around
the water stagnates and slowly expires

what she said

Tunes in my head: Tarkus by Jordan Rudess
Atmosphere: Mediocre

what she said were warming words
until they dry and break to ice
lullaby echoes jumper cable sparks
facades that appear so pure
games she played hide in grass
"i smoke because i hope
for boys to come, for early death
fifteen a stick and she calls again"

what she said were sickly sweet
consumable dependable always broken
"my only desire is to die"
and she'd smile and fall some more
it breaks the bone
and away with a smile on her face
it's not worth much everyone gets
watered down bootlegged whiskey shots

what she said were words of trust
how soon is now when it's so far away
"my one desire is under threat"
when she smiled and cheeks went rosy red
and so she broke and fell so far
and got picked up by the faithless
it's rather ignoble and it's pure at once
expect in her own perception, her own closed circles

defusing of the bomb

Tunes in my head: Memories Fade by Tears For Fears
Atmosphere: Mediocre.

i sit inside, in smoke, in confuse
watching the wake of the collins missile
i don't go into try and defuse
this explosive situation this demented play
opened up my box to expose the ruse
and got blinded by the two suns' blaze
there was no demented humour, no sick amuse
just pipers playing flutes and songs

i'm not endlessly following, i have no pacing clone
just sitting in this box, just middle of the pack
i can't come to terms with the concept of alone
there's a feeling that i'm surrounded by windows
i'm submerged and rained over, i'm beaten by the snow
and white covers brown, caves in the walls
there's a cry from miles, it's breaking through the foam
but it doesn't really call, it's never there at all

i can't break free from the chains of inaction
it's never a natural impulse to make a move
there's this sick movement a break into faction
and still no move to tear the fortress
i can't gain movement, useless is traction
the safe move becomes perpetual suicide
the solemn breaking of a conception immaculate
and so the floors tumble like paper

Stagnate.

Tunes in my head: Visions of Angels by Genesis
Atmosphere: Fuck life

There comes a time when change is needed.

There comes a time when a person needs to be flung off the cliff and told to fly.

Are we ready to run like lemmings yet?

Maybe so, maybe not.

Do we have much of a choice?

Of course not. Can you not see what happens to those who shy away from the cliff?

They stagnate.

And die.

My friends, we are about to run.

Is anyone about to shy away at this crucial moment?

Well, I don't care about anyone except myself...

Tunes in my head: Self by Phish and The Dude of Life
Atmosphere: Depressed.

can you save me from the water rushing over?
will the foam be broken by an embrace?
or will there be no lifebuoy thrown?
no measure to save the human race?

I only stare this way...

Tunes in my head: Does Everyone Stare by The Police
Atmosphere: Meh...

Does everyone stare the way I do, Zooey?
I don't know why, but my shots will always miss.

Blue crystals of snow.

Tunes in my head: Seven Below by Phish
Atmosphere: Depressed

i try to withdraw within myself to hide from all the pain.
what i slowly realise is that i become gently insane.

Hey, guys.

Am I?

You tell me. I can't exactly see from the inside.

You're just staring at the walls...

Tunes in my head: Brian and Robert by Trey Anastasio
Atmosphere: Mediocre

I can't even rhyme. Begin the begin.

Companionship is a strange ideal in human life, isn't it?

We're always looking for some to share this ride with. Always looking for a person to sit beside you, to smile, to share.

It's strange, in a way, to see so many others around us become companions.

And then to still be alone on this ride is a much more depressing ideal, isn't it.

It's a sad feeling. A kind of ostracism. To be sitting alone on the bus when everyone else has someone beside them to share the journey with.

But what can you do about it?

Continue searching, or give up?

Continue looking for that person to share the smile, to share the inside joke?

Or give up on this apparently futile quest.

My glance is always darting...when I stroll the avenue...

Tunes in my head: Silent In The Morning by Phish
Atmosphere: Smile

Thank you.

Thank you for realising where I come from and for actually showing you do care.

Things aren't perfect yet. But with time.

It means a lot.

Please keep on this path.

Surely you can see the effect. I've really missed being happy.

I know I can be hard to deal with at times. But you can see the benefits of that one flaw?

If only you could like Phish...

Songs are like tattoos.

Tunes in my head: Blue by Joni Mitchell
Atmosphere: Creative

Idea for crime writing - cliche stage play a la Hound
Murder weapon gets changed for an actual weapon
Investigation from there

We gotta get on the road...

Tunes in my head: The Landlady > Destiny Unbound by Phish
Atmosphere: Sore

Well, there goes the final performance of music in front of a school audience today. It went okay, I suppose.

Why do I suddenly get massive amounts of stage fright right before a performance? It's a strange feeling...

And irrational, really.

But at the same time, rational.

We perform to impress.

The foam keeps getting thicker.

Tunes in my head: Stand by R.E.M.
Atmosphere: Sick to my fucking stomach

You sacrifice something you wanted so much because you can't stand to be wrong? Because you can't admit "Hey, yeah, I'm not in the right in this situation, I might actually have to do something to change it."

If you can't tell, I really don't want to let this go. But with the way you're acting, with the way you're fucking treating me, do I have much choice?

It was all so very hollow. All of the "you're the best friend ever." "I love you best friend, don't ever leave." Whatever happened to "I'd miss being as close to you"? Was the "I'll always be me, and I'll always be here for you?" just a lie?

There's never another mention of "kick the brat off." No more inside jokes, no more nicknames, no more fun. And I so desperately want there to be. But if you're willing to just give it up for some stupid fucking reason, then what was it really worth?

Are you still jealous of Suzy? Because she gets Page?

You've destroyed me. Utterly.

Apples and icecream, you scream, I SCREAM.

Tunes in my head: After The Gold Rush by Michael Hedges
Atmosphere: Productive...

It's amazing how quick one can work when the pressure is on.

Music HSC tomorrow...

Trying to avoid distractions certainly helps...

(but can you...really?)

This might hurt just a little bit...

Tunes in my head: NO2 by Phish
Atmosphere: Heavy

Little Suzy Greenberg, with her head caved in.
Soon to let me drown beneath the undertow.
Aughta put that woman in a looney bin,
Cause you know I'd really like to be a part of her show.

Suzy is an artist - she paints quite a lot.
An artist she may be, but a genius she is not.
She says she wants to be a sociologist,
But she better first get checked by a neurologist.

Suzy's 'bout as faithful as a slot machine.
Pays off once in a while, then she robs you clean.
She's always afraid that she's not sure what she's worth.
She's out of her mind, and she's not of this Earth.

Woman walks the streets like she's queen of the town.
Doesn't talk very much, she's very profound,
Little Suzy Greenberg's always playing a game.
Since the day we first met, she's probably forgot my name...

No blog today, guys.

Where do the hours go?

Tunes in my head: Decades by Joy Division
Atmosphere: Depressed. WHY THE FUCK CAN'T YOU READ BETWEEN THE LINES AND REALISE IT IS YOU WHO IS CAUSING ALL OF THIS PAIN? WHY THE FUCK CAN'T YOU REALISE THAT YOUR TREATMENT OF ME IS WHAT CAUSES THIS. IF YOU CARED THEN THIS COULD ALL BE STOPPED. IF YOU CARED YOU COULD REMOVE THE PAIN. BUT DO YOU? OF COURSE NOT.

the hour is late the eyes are darting
connection is break lingering parting
the room is not dark the hours are black
clocks have no part except to go back

there's no use to this no escape
no path to miss the repeating tape
when the moment arrives there's still chance
dreams of sleep deprive still advance