say it

“say it. say, i am beautiful. say it like you believe it, like you should.”

people pass in and out of our lives. you can know someone for three years and scarcely remember them. you can know someone for two weeks and love them. you can meet someone one night and somehow they make a huge impact. and they probably will only vaguely remember you. but that doesn’t really matter.

i never really believe people when they say i’m beautiful. i assume there’s some ulterior motive. well, not necessarily ulterior. although generally i think when boys say it they are just trying to compel me to sleep with them. when my friends or my mum says it i assume its out of obligation. i can think of specific instances when somebody has said it and i believed it.

once my mum said it, and they passion, the conviction she said it with; i had to believe her. the sadness- why can’t you see you are beautiful?

once this guy said it. “i think you’re beautiful.” the moment was perfect. wonderful. it all got very complicated in the end. we don’t talk anymore. but that i believed he thought i was beautiful… well it catalysed in me a new found confidence.

a month or so ago i met this irish guy in newtown. he was the one who wanted me to say i was beautiful. people know if you don’t think you’re beautiful. rarely do guys you meet at 2:30am at bars on a wednesday much care. he was very sweet. he comforted me because i ended up quite upset,  since we had an in depth talk. i also got that once from an english backpacker. not the crying part. the saying i seemed too shy, that i was gorgeous and i should let go and have fun.

i hope one day i will say, “I am beautiful” without a silent except for this, and this, and this. no qualifiers. no, beautiful inside maybe. i don’t think i’m ugly. i’m just… afraid? i don’t know. i’ll always be insecure. most women are.


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it’s all a facade

At the Drive-In: Embroglio

i had a friend who died
for something he really loved
i had a friend who stood
for none of the above
i had a friend whose experience
was riddled with scars
who got drunk one night
in the trunk of louie p.’s car
i had a friend who’d love to scare you
as was his affection
and tremble you did
’cause you weren’t worthy of his friendship
i had a friend, but now
he’s stranded on the mesa street exit
and sometimes i’m jealous
’cause i’m still at the intersection
i had a friend whose heart was too heavy to hold
yes there’s blood on the median
like a boat without oars

duct tape the cross on the brown colored box
single file line on the unpaved road
they tipped their hats, respect for the dead
in juarez, mexico is where they buried my friend

there are no words to express
the loss i feel since you’ve been away
you made this typical sad song
a physical classroom
where i learned nothing
just flashes of your face

it’s all a facade and nothing really matters now
he’s stranded somewhere on the mesa street exit
and sometimes i’m jealous waiting at the intersection

i had a friend whose heart was too heavy to hold
yes there’s blood on the median like a boat without oars

it’s all a facade, and nothing really matters now

this is how i feel often. specifically, that i’m jealous of those who live their lives on the edge. i do in some ways, i suppose. i have gotten braver. done a few stupid things. plan on doing many more. this is how i want my friends to describe me one day. that i had a heart too heavy to hold. an experience riddled with scars. that they could feel my friendship required some worthiness.they could describe just how much passion i had for life, and for everyone i had in my life.

today i read the blurb of some book by… john green? doesn’t really matter. the female character (love interest) was described as “beautiful and edgy”. i want to be described like that. i’d like to think one day, someone will find me beautiful and mysterious and edgy and dangerous.

i am attempting to preen an enigmatic image. i’m fairly private. don’t engage with gossip. don’t fuss myself with what people say about me. but i’m too loving and caring to be cold forever. i suppose i do seem cold, because i am shy and closed. when i get to know people though any enigmatic side vanishes because if i feel that connection with someone i am self-revealing. and tend to show a personality best described as quirky and daggy. but also neurotic and intense.

life is a long journey to find oneself. to figure out oneself. to reduce an incomprehensibly complex person to descriptors. to something simple, something that can be understood. i am a woman. i am 30 years old now. i am in love. i am stable. i am happy. i work in publishing. i am kind. i am loving. etc.

do we ever know who we are? i don’t think there is a ‘real’ me. i am too changeable. i want too much. i love life because it is complex, because it is full of possibilities. i will be a thousand girls. there is no one quintessential essence.

i will live in italy and will have wild, passionate sex with an italian man, and daily sip sambuca, and we’ll spend our days eating fine food and doing nothing.

or i’ll drift around venice and paint the canals, wander through the shops, draw the churches, the views.

or i’ll wander the streets of paris, completely alone, but feeling no loneliness. complete in myself, a small  dark figure.

or i’ll be in mexico drinking tequila, and partying.

or i’ll be married to a lovely man in new york city.

or i’ll be a beatnik in amsterdam.

does the same girl do this? different girls?

for the thousands of lives i could lead there are an equal number of women. if we view a woman as something reducable. like a book character. her own individual, visible characteristics. stories generally simplify humans, to make it easier for readers to follow. could you describe yourself in 400 words, like an omniscient narrator?

i’m going to try.

435 words

She had a way of looking more than a way of being. She could hide because she could be observer, not observed, and was often happy not being noticed, though occasionally enjoyed attention. She was more often happy in her own little world, a world that seemed to be reflected in her large blue eyes. We associate big clear blue eyes with innocence; but they grey that muddied the blue belied the mixture of naivety and wisdom that led to misadventures and heart ache.

Maybe if she’d had her childhood blonde hair she would have looked a bit more innocent; instead her hair was jet black, a jolt against her pale skin. The contrast seemed to make her seem more vulnerable; and if we looked closely at her small hands (often described as being like a little girl’s) we’d see the blue veins more visible than on most, spidering up the forearms. As well, she always seemed to have bruises she could never explain, like an awkward little girl.

That’s often how she felt. At once, too young and too old. She had naïve expectations, naïve ideas of love and relationships and sex and sometimes life itself; and it seemed to hurt her more than it would others when her expectations weren’t met. She always seemed to be hurting more than most people, she wore her heart on her sleeve and loved everything and everyone unequivocally, and often undeservedly. She was hyper-sensitive and wished she could brush things off like everyone else seemed to be able to, but everything seemed to be directed specifically at her poor vulnerable heart.

For all the frustration her constant feeling caused she was generally content; because as much as her lows seemed to spike dangerously low, her highs reached the highest peaks. She cried more than most people but laughed more than most too. Her passion wormed its way into every facet of her life but found its largest reservoir in life itself; in appreciating its diverse and fluctuating emotions and its inherent insanity and most of all its beauty. The beauty that comes from insanity.

Sometimes she felt like a stranger in her own body, and thought the girl in the mirror was nothing like the one inside. Then others, she couldn’t imagine being anything else. The black hair, pale skin, naturally dark skin, flushed cheeks, big eyes, crooked nose: how else could she look? Somehow she though she should be a lot thinner than she was, so she might disappear. Then other times the reasonably slim but soft body seemed the only possible vessel for her mind.

not even close to the whole picture!

but life is both too long and too short to ever figure yourself out. you just hope someday to find people who will understand you. i could write so much about me but only scratch the surface. there is too much abot myself that i haven’t discovered.

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you’re the piece of gold that flashes on my soul

silversun pickups “lazy eye” video makes me want to dance (sway) languidly. i love music that isn’t typically dance but has that languid rhythm that is actually really sexy.

(it reminds me of the downunder in port macqaurie for various reasons. ahem.)

such songs include :

‘heart’s a mess’ by gotye. oh this song is so close to my heart. so amazing live. so fucking beautiful. its beauty jusk flows throughout the music.

‘i’ve been thinking’ by cat power and the handsome boy modelling school. jazzy, sexy… i don’t know what else to say. except that cat power is sex personified and i want to be her.

‘pulse’ by the mess hall. thisone especially. and the music video is to die for. eerie and beautiful.

‘i’m alive’ by love and rockets. sexiness personified. a bit of that 80’s indie sound.

‘the pyramid song’ by radiohead. oh fuck this song is stunning, there is no other way to describe it. it elicits this intense emotional and physical response. very few aural pieces are capable of that. thom yorke is something special.the same for ‘talk show host’ (the one from Romeo+Juliet). that song sends chills through me. it eradicates the need for words, for thoughts. you just feel the song. the subtle passion. the longing that manifests.

I jumped in the river and what did I see?
Black-eyed angels swam with me
A moon full of stars and astral cars
All the things I used to see
All my lovers were there with me
All my past and futures
And we all went to heaven in a little row boat
There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt

I jumped into the river
Black-eyed angels swam with me
A moon full of stars and astral cars
And all the things I used to see
All my lovers were there with me
All my past and futures
And we all went to heaven in a little row boat
There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt

There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt
There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt

‘amylase’ by cajun party. i love this little band and their indiepop?? music. it’s lovely and fun and pretty and a bit ugly in its way, in other songs.

‘maps’ by the yeah yeahs. i could listen to this song over and over and over.

‘love will tear us apart’ by joy division

anything by the smiths.

oddly enough, cinema strange, specifically ‘the red and silver fantastique’. kind of gothic, ambient, but strangely sexy. also partial to ‘lindsay’s trachea’

and of course of course, who could resist the non-english accents of the teenagers’ “homecoming”. ooh they are “totally awesome. oh my GOD, i think i’m in love.” such a brazen parody of typically sleazy englishmen (is that a real stereotype? sleazy french men yes. i think those gorgeous, fabulous french men are getting revenge for that particular stereotype). or at least ditzy american girls. and also “scarlett johansson”.

‘sexy boy’ by air

most things by air really. especially ‘run’. which i will always associate with veronica mars. also ‘playground love’, now that is a beautifully sexy ryhthm.

I’m a high school lover, and you’re my favorite flavor
Love is all, all my soul
You’re my playground love

Yet my hands are shaking
I feel my body reeling
Time’s no matter, I’m on fire
On the playground love

You’re the piece of gold
That flashes on my soul
Extra time, on the ground
You’re my playground love

Anytime, anywhere,
You’re my playground love.

and the virgin suicides. amazing. i must read the book. the movie is amazing. i know everyone says it but really, it is just a lovely little movie.

so i’ve decided i have a bizarre idea of sexy. but then i’m also not the kind of girl who goes for tall, “hot”, blond, (vapid), typically attractive men. so this is not unexpected.

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1984 and mass media

is amazing. utterly amazing.  it is moving and beautiful and multiplicitous. it make you want to live life on the edge, to embrace science and art and love and sex and sensuality and reject all the hatred and mindless conformity. it of course takes a fascist, “big brother” (aaah, where the silly show comes from) vision to the utmost extreme but its chilling sometimes how you can see our world dissolving into that. i don’t actually think it will, but it brings up many important ideas of freedom (at least in my mind). does our increasing technology make us more or less free? will privacy one day be a thing of the past because of the internet? does the internet itself make us more or less free? we are free to speak, free to browse (generally), free to become different people- but as our lives are increasingly transferred to the virtual world, are we losing the freedom of privacy? are we becoming, in a round about way, a collectist society, a communal one, where everything is shared? are we becoming more or less stratified as a society because of our technological advances (are they by nature egalitarian? it is certainly arguable they allow a greater distribution or knowledge, and allow a more diverse number of voices to be heard, yet the digital divide is undeniable: only about a 5th of the world’s population have access to the internet).

we recently had a lecture in understanding communication about the media. it was really fascinating! it was actually titled “cultural industries and media in society” and focused on the concept of mass media: its development, its nature, and its imminent destruction (perhaps). mass media is characterised by it’s one-way, top-down nature, as well as the idea that it is mediated and censored by the “gate keepers” of knowledge. the name is somewhat of a misnomer: it is only ‘mass’ in the sense that it reaches a mass audience; by the later 20th Century, 5 corporations were dominating publishing and broadcasting knowledge worldwide (Bardikian, 2004). because it is institutionalised, and because it is specifically created to appease audiences (existing within a competitive capitalist market) it often has a certain ideological or economic slant which it imposes (as there is no interactivity) on the viewer. mass media tends to reinforce dominant ideologies and discourses and rarely challenges them.

but is the age of mass media coming to an end? or more appropriately, is the name taking on a new dimension? we are living in the age of user created content; particularly via the internet. we are living in an interactie age; we are no longer a largely passive and inert audience, we are a critical and creative one. the internet allows an outlet for ‘indy’ media, alternative viewpoints; it allows me to write this spiel! mass media now is about connectivity, collectivity, collaboration, communication, community, content and conversation. before , we were forced into a mass, passive consciousness because of limited channels of information. now our sources of potential information are a lot more diverse, so we have more a fragmented audience. this is the potential of the end of mass media: or at least a demonstration that old-style mass media doesn’t have to be the norm. we can be both consumers and producers.


and just a non-sequiter line from 1984, p. 843 (its a book of all of orwell’s novels):

“But if the object was not to stay alive but to stay human, what difference did it ultimately make? They could not alter your feelings: for that matter you could not alter them yourself, even if you wanted to. They could lay bare in the utmost detail everything you have done or said or thought; but the inner heart, whose workings were mysterious even to yourself, remained impregnable.”

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kill all the boys with their fucked up noise

i am one of those people who attract complications. intense feelings (because you will never meet anyone as intense as i am) of passion, of hurt. heartbreak. the overwhelming majority is my own nature; a nature by far too sensitive, too fragile, too inclined to loving and hurt, too intense, too desperate, too romantic, too afraid of being alone… too afraid of a cold and lonely winter.

i live in my own world in a sense. i live simultaneously in the past and the future and the present; i live to make memories, good and bad. i live to create experiences, experience that can become a vast resevoir from which to funnel my creativity. i am terrified of mediocrity. i intend to live, and hell, do so now to degrees, always alert, always creating, always loving, always hurting, always reflecting. i want to live a thousand lives in the single one i have. i want to travel the world, i crave adventure.

hell, i thrive on complications.


“psychic hearts”, originally by thurston moore (from sonic youth) but covered so beautifully by cat power, is one of those songs that i always listen to when i’m upset. it has this bizarre effect of pacifying me, there’s some abstract comfort. cat power’s voice is so raw and passionate, and the lyrics (which i know off by heart) spin a fucked up romance i just adore. there is always something in the song i relate to on some visceral level (save the bits about the parents- mine are wonderful!)

particularly the ‘sadness is and sadness was…’ stanza. always gets me!

i think its power lies in not just my own direct experiences, that i can relate to this, but the intense desire i have to find someone who can also relate. some boy who could sing this, as both the mixed up kid it refers to, and the one who recongises how valuable it is to have felt those raw emotions, and who is sensitive and loving. empathy naturally comes to those whose emotions and passions run deep.

and the last stanza? is amongst my favourite words ever sung. and will always apply to everyone who has ever come through my life, for better or worse. my family, my best friends, my friends, my (ex-)lovers (also in the ‘we never even kissed but my god i liked you’ sense)… it will always apply to them.
I know you have a fucked up life
Growing up in a stupid town
Your mother was a mixed-up jerk
And your father he just fucked around

A little too much for his own good
I’d kill the bastard if I could
I’d kill all the boys with their fucked up noise
And all the bullshit they seem to enjoy

Kids in school
Call you slut
Nothing but
What the fuck are they into
Stupid fools
Losers assholes suck all the luck
Out of the world the world with you
If I can get it back to you I will
Kick their asses all over town
All over town I’ll turn it over

I don’t even know you that well
What the hell summer spell

What’s it like
Goin’ out
No-one knows what you’re about
Abused and used and cut in two
By hollow man that have nothing to do

Laugh all the time try to get high
And try to hide behind the lie

They fucked your head up
That’s for sure
Your heart is ripped now wrapped in fur
But you know that sex is pretty insane
And magic seems to kill the pain
And the things that go on inside your brain
Makes you seem to think that you’re to blame
Don’t think about it
Grow it out
Love em all and say it loud
Fight the scumbags that slap you around
Scream your crazy lost and found
We don’t have to tell you what is right
We have all the faith it was not right

Sadness is and sadness was
And sadness will always be because
Comfort comes around from the strangest of men

I got no time for sad songs baby
Don’t need you to say I’m crazy
Stick your tongue and you look at me
And I will bite it off you see
Push you down onto your knees
Do you laugh away your sleaze?

You’re not the only girl in town
But you’re the only one that’s got me down
Psychic hearts go out to you
Psychic heart go round to you

My prayer to you
Is that you do all the things you set out to do
And live your life the way you love
But will you remember one thing for me?
I will always love you
I will always love you

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tomorrow is the much much much anticipated day when i move to sydney. every so often i’m like fuuuuuck, i’m scared! i’m terrified! but mostly, 99% of the time, i’m like holy shit this is going to be amaaaazing. its so exciting! it only really set in today, i kind of started crying.


saw ellie for the first time in… a year! so good! fuck i love that girl. kewlest kid i know. it was weird, it was like we hadn’t even been apart, and even though we’ve both been through significant things that have surely changed us as people, we were just kinda… it was like old times. it sucks i’m missing her 18th and that she gets back just as i leave though.


i’m impressed that this guy i met taught himself spanish merely because he was bored. and then he was trying to teach me but i was way too drunk, and then i think he was getting me to say dirty things in spanish.  i was slingin’ back vodka, lime and sodas literally all night. and i got given some dudes whiskey and cokes ha. a lot of dancing on my part occurred.


its all so exciting, but i know its going to be hard leaving my friends and family behind. but the thing with ellie affirmed that when you care for people then even distance doesn’t have to necessarily mean the end of a friendship. and i think it’ll be a good thing to meet new people, go new places, and be reminded of how special what i’ve had is. and have stories to tell the girls! but i will miss them so much.

alanah, sam, emily, ellie,


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there was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt

so i haven’t posted photos in ages, thought i should.

back from when i was in newcastle




















this is the artist that accosted me… it was very awkward.


i’ve walked past this creek thing a ridiculous number of times, and have always meant to take a photo of it. something about it always strikes me, especially when it has been raining or its overcast. and the day of this was, i guess, significant? walking into town as per normal, to clear my head, and fuck i did.


i take for granted having my dinner cooked most nights. i take for granted having most things in my life done for me. it hit me, being sick, i’m not going to have my mum around for all the shit she does for me; the washing, the centrelink forms, the advice, the old “no, don’t wear that, it makes your arse look huge and you have a tiny arse! yo got some junk goin’ on in that trunk”. haha i love her. its going to be so weird! i’m going to miss her so much!


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