Two Minute Hate

Title blatantly stolen from 1984. I'm going to try something a little different this time. I'm going to indulge that little voice in my brain that says 'YOU SUCK' and write out everything it has to say. This will make me feel better. Or something.

I am incapable of leading a raid. It is impossible to command respect from your raiders. The fact that you have come to regard raiding as a tiresome chore is a symptom that you are unsuited to the task. When the raid fails, you have failed. You put it together, and every setback, every screw-up, every idiot move and idiot accident and broken gear in your machine is your fault and your fault alone. You are to blame and they all know it, and when they fuck things up you need to pick up the pieces with a fucking smile. This frustration is frustration at YOUR failure.

You are selfish. Sure, in some fantasy world you're entitled to ask for more. You justify this by saying you put more in, and you did more work, and you ran things and now it is time for you to get something. Well, you're a cunt. You're not the only one who works hard on things, and you seem to think you deserve more? They trust you to make the choices and every so often you make a conceited one. This makes you a terrible person.

You will never survive in Melbourne. You can't even run your own body in this cocoon environment you live in! How on earth do you expect to fend for yourself? You'll be eaten alive, and you know it. There comes a time when everyone must stand alone and fend for themselves and you are far too weak to pull that off. There's no point. You're just going to disappoint and vindicate everyone.

This study is all too much for you. What the hell do you know about self-discipline? Absolutely nothing, that's what. Now you have to actually knuckle down and get some fucking work done and your brain shuts down! University is going to kick the shit out of you. You haven't a hope in hell with your commitment. Resign yourself to a shit job for shit people, because you are shit.

Who exactly do you think you are, staring at them like you do? They aren't going to look back. Well, actually, that's a lie. He looked back today, didn't he? Probably confused as to why you were fucking staring at him like a piece of meat. You repress this shit for a reason - because you are fucked up. Your feelings aren't natural and society hates you for them, so keep them under fucking wraps and for god's sakes stop fucking staring at them, you idiot. You'll get your head kicked in and then you'll have even less chance of attracting the only thing you can - degenerates like yourself with personalities like sandpaper.

Nobody in Canberra gives a shit about you and when you leave, nobody will care.

God doesn't exist and this is the only shot you have at things.

Someone somewhere is being cruel to a kitten.

You are very cold.

I feel better already.

Something You're Not & Ode to an Egg

MUST GET THESE THINGS OUT OF MY HEAD BEFORE I TALK COHERENTLY.

Something You're Not

I'm going to hold you at arm's length in my embrace,
Bet you think you love me - such a pity, such a waste.
You can't hope to know me, so just show me what you got.
I don't know if you are thinking I am something I am not.

I'll get you hot, I'm something I'm not.
I'm what you want, I am something you're not.

I won't lie, I won't lie, no would I lie to you?
Trust in me...
You won't remember my name.
Dance with me, dance with me, why won't you dance with me?
Lie to you...
I'm convinced it's better this way.

Honey, please, you're such a tease, and you can't keep me under.
Take my hand, you'll understand - but you'll be sure to wonder.
What is it about me that rubs you the strangest way?
My hands around your waist, my lips against your cheek, I'll stay.

I'll get you hot, I'm something I'm not.
I'm what you want, I am something you're not.

I won't lie, I won't lie, no would I lie to you?
Trust in me...
You won't remember my name.
Dance with me, dance with me, why won't you dance with me?
Lie to you...
I'm convinced it's better this way.

I won't tell you that I love you, so don't say that you love me.
No, I won't tell you that I love you, please don't tell me that you love me.
Just stay focused on my body.

I won't lie, I won't lie, no would I lie to you?
Trust in me...
You won't remember my name.
Dance with me, dance with me, why won't you dance with me?
Lie to you...
I'm convinced it's better this way.

Ode to an Egg
You were made of smelted metal,
You flew up in the sky.
You'll shelter someone else now.
I tried to say goodbye.



RIGHT. Now that THEY'RE out of my system.
I suppose I should cover what's been happening over the past little while.
I am working a lot. By a lot, I mean about 12 hours a week. Whoop dee do, but that's a lot for me. Money is a novel thing to have.
I put my ipod through the wash. That was sad.
My parents have moved out of the house into the new house. I am still in the old house. There is nothing in the old house but a desk and a bed. I am starting to feel like it resents my presence and I want out, but I can't leave for two weeks until the net is connected in the new place. Going to be a long two weeks.
I have 28 days until I move to Melbourne.
I have a Boost bar sitting on my desk and I'm considering eating it.
I am reminded quite brutally that I will never be able to care about anyone as much as I care about my woman and the sheer bittersweet feeling that that invokes in me is almost physically painful.
I saw Josh Thomas last night. That was very funny.
I need a cigarette quite chronically.
I am deathly afraid of burning the house down.
I don't know how to make mashed potatoes. I am lacking a pot to mash them in.
That'll do for now.

Fuck Nihilists

Apparently I have 13 followers! That is quite a few. Even if one of them is the devil, that's pleasing. Also, apparently one of my brother's friends is an avid reader of this. Hello, Madam! How are you finding it thus far? It isn't always amazing, I know - but one does one's best.

I am going to spout a hell of a lot of gibberish into this blog post. Don't take it seriously.

I was in the shower recently humming to myself and thinking about nihilists and how much they annoy me. That's an oversimplification, but by and large the philosophy is one that has always infuriated me - and that is because it hinges on a willful decision to be a pessimist and one that isn't based on fact or logic. They decide to be uncaring about the world and then try and back this up with 'logic'. It bites them in the ass, and here is why:

If nothing is everything, than anything is something.

Do you like that? I came up with it myself. I thought it was clever, anyway. I even Googled it and it didn't come up with any hits, so I may be the first to write something like that.
Anyway, moving on from my insufferable smugness, I'll explain. If we accept the nihilistic argument - that ultimately all things are pointless and that there is no action that anyone can take that has a purpose - you are faced with an interesting choice. If everything is pointless, you can do what most nihilists do, which is slip into a veritable coma of apathy and bemoan your fate, bitching about how nothing serves any goal and we all die eventually...
OR YOU CAN TRY MY WAY.
If all things are pointless, there is no way to attach significance to anything. Now, if you're a pessimist, you'll take this to mean "that means that nothing is significant". But if you're an optimist you can turn this around and say 'if logically I cannot attach significance to anything, EVERYTHING IS EQUALLY SIGNIFICANT'. Everything, no matter how small, becomes something important. In a very real sense, once you acknowledge that nothing has a point, everything has a point.
Or not. Fuck, perhaps I haven't thought this through right yet.
Still, it killed ten minutes to write. Good enough for me!

Leaving the Nest

Oh god. Has it really been THAT long since I've posted something that isn't poetry? I haven't posted something heartfelt and important since MAY.
Well, that isn't to say that my poems aren't heartfelt and important, but when I look back over this blog when I'm old and withered (assuming it lasts that long in this technological age) I would rather like to know what's going on in the brain of past me beyond his ability to string a few words together prettily. So I'm going to talk about myself, because I like to do that and this place is designed for it.
So. Where to begin? Where to end? I'm too concerned with structure. Must...vomit...words!
I am still an utter hedonist. You'd think that the onset of adulthood would have encouraged some sexual withdrawal, or at least sexual sense. Unfortunately I am still as voracious as ever, and though it isn't exactly out of control, it isn't under it either. To look is to desire, and this problem is only compounded by the fact that very very soon I am leaving the hovel that is Canberra forever, and wish to mark my departure in my characteristic way by fucking everything male that looks at me sideways. Irksome, yet very, VERY entertaining.
Onto that subject - I'm leaving home! Moving out, fleeing parents, finding my feet, learning the ropes, so on, so forth. I am departing the public service factory that is Canberra and going to university in Melbourne. The prospect of leaving behind everything and everyone I've ever known and loved is an amazingly appealing one and probably suggests something in my personality I'm loathe to examine too closely. Let's just say I like change and leave it at that.
There are a few people I'm going to miss - a few regrets, a few friendships left to wither, a few too many times playing the hermit, a few opportunities squandered. Such is life, I suppose. In six weeks, none of it will matter.
I've become increasingly political. That is probably symptomatic of the fact that A) I love my own opinion and think it is more important than everyone else's and B) I now have the right to vote. I am living in an age where I want to encourage social reform. I suppose every generation wants that to some degree, but I anticipate that in my lifetime there will be some revolutions, and I'm sitting here on the cusp of a lot of them. My speech for Com Skills was very anti-heterosexual and I note this down only because I want future me to remember it. Perhaps I'll put it on this blog at some point.
I am still very much in love with my female counterpart and here, right before we embark upon our lives under the same roof after wanting it for so long, I can really appreciate just how important that love has become to my sense of self. I don't just love her - I am her. She occupies my thoughts continuously and it is almost scary. Still, I am content.
I am worried about the amount that I am eating. It is not enough but my stomach refuses more.
I am deathly afraid of magpies.
I have read 1984 for the first time and believed every word as a grim portent of things to come.
I am unpleasantly attached to the feel of fingertips behind my ears.
I have re-pierced my eyebrow at considerable expense.
I am very happy with the way my brain is working at the moment.
I am filled with love.

Summer is coming back and I feel change in the air. Time to leave the nest and go looking for it.

Each Burn Another Sin

Note: I did not write this. This is taken from another blog that I happen to be following. I just think it is a fantastic piece of writing and want to record it.

He gives an offering of flesh, he lets temptation win
Used Matches on the floor, each burn another sin
The pain leaves his head, as the flame burns his skin
He caused so much hurt, each burn another sin

To a demon of pride, he had become host
he had taken for granted, the one who meant most
For the hurt he has caused, the skin he must roast
An act of redemption, for the one who means most

His soul is inhuman, made of wire and tin
He stabs at his flesh, and burns at his sin
Each scar's a reminder, of the beast he let in
the only way out, is to burn for his sin.

Pulse

Oh,
it starts low.
One two, one two.
No sign of three.

Oh,
I want this.
It swells, it swells.
Rising higher.

Oh,
The tension.
The crash, the crash.
All has fallen.

And there's no way out,
It's time to wake up,
It makes you feel alive,
But you know you won't survive.

And now it burns you,
And yet you want more?
It purifies your soul,
It pulses and you're whole.

Oh,
It ended.
Rewind, rewind.
Listen again.

Oh,
The bassline.
Throbbing, throbbing.
This is heartbeat.

Oh,
This is it.
It ends, it ends.
The crescendo.

The Line

Cross this line in me,
You satisfy a fading need,
This is my faith to soothe your fears,
This is my breath to fill the void,
This is my hand to hold you, dear.

Cross this line again,
I refuse to let you fail.
I won't let you pass today,
I won't let you bleed it out,
I won't let you fade away.

Cross the lines aside,
I hate the way you look at me.
I hate the way you're cold to touch,
I hate the way you will not see,
I hate the way you ask too much.

You reach deep inside me,
The lines unbroken lie,
You cannot satisfy,
And so you take from me.
You tear and break and rend,
This cannot be the end!
You are consuming me,
You are engulfing me,
You are destroying me,
I'm waiting to die.

I cross this line for you.

I cross this line for you,
And though you will not see,
How this is tragedy,
I know that somehow,
Somewhere, this all will be worth it.

Just a line to cause a scream.
Just a line to break a dream.
Just a line to let me fall.
Just a line to burn it all.
Just a line - that's all, I swear!
Just a line, words in the air.
Just a line to cross again.
Just a line, this is the end.