| (no subject) |
[Jan. 12th, 2006|06:59 pm] |
|
i am tired of looking at black and white photographs. |
|
|
| my first day of being 17 |
[Dec. 29th, 2005|12:05 am] |
outside on my lawn. your shirt
reflects the sun, mine absorbs it.
blanket like a cape, powerful, i spin around.
you follow me. shade. sun. you follow me. |
|
|
| I lied. |
[Oct. 24th, 2005|06:53 pm] |
|
Anything, but not anything. It has come down to anything before and you know I would never take it or go with it or let it take me. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Oct. 22nd, 2005|02:50 pm] |
The whole past month has been a complete lie. Where have I gone!
I can't find anything that I need.
I don't know who I am or who anybody near me is.
I don't know anything about one single person or about this world that I am living on.
I would do anything to be a real person. But no but no but no. I hate real people.
Machines.
I'm really bad with machines too. I give up with them so easily when they don't do what I want.
But what I really want to do is break them.
I don't know
what I'm doing and I have not one plan
or one stable thing
or one commitment in my entire life.
I wish somebody would tell me and plan it out for me so that I could have somebody to blame. Or to defy! Or like anything from a book or a play or a movie or a song. They cheat us. Anything, but not anything. It has come down to anything before and you know I would never take it or go with it or let it take me.
And my pet cat has run away from home.
All every without me always. |
|
|
| not today my little one |
[Oct. 20th, 2005|10:48 am] |
It is Thursday. Tonight at 7.30pm I will be at a James Morrison concert at the Aotea Centre in Auckland. I don't really know anything about James Morrison yet, but I know it will be good.
This morning the alarm on my cellphone went off at 6.40am. I ignored it. It went off again 10 minutes later, and then my phone switched itself off, which was good. I hate: cellphones and alarm clocks. I wish I was living in the time when they were never invented. I could just ignore them. I could just ignore everything. I am wondering how hard that would be. Then again, it could be just what I already do.
I am making no sense or writing in an even remotely interesting way, but I don't care. I am sick of things. I am sick.
I am sitting in the Midcity Internet Cafe. It is a school day but I am here. The clock on the computer says it is 9.54am, my watch says it is 10.54am and I don't know who to trust. Maybe my watch sped up when I wasn't looking. It seems more likely that a computer would get everything right. All I can hear is foreign languages. Chinese or Korean or something. Or both. I wish I could tell the difference.
I asked my mother this morning if I could just stay home from school, but she wouldn't let me. She told me that I had to go to school. Had to. That it was just something that I had to do. I just wanted to stay home. So I got on the bus to school and then caught a bus to town from there. I don't really want to be here, but I would not have been able to stand just going to school because I "had to". I wouldn't've been able to concentrate because I would've been feeling all powerless and crap. I only miss days off school to feel as though I have some kind of control over things. I need to feel like I can control where I spend my time. That I can just mess up the life-schedule at any point, and that no one will die because of it.
I don't know what to do now. I don't have much money. $20 I think but I was supposed to use that for part of the James Morrison ticket (I already have it but need to pay a friend back for it tonight). I'll feel stupid only giving her half the money because I spent the other half wandering around aimlessly while I wasn't at school. I could just pay her the rest in the weekend, I guess. But I know that it is kind of a 'bad person' thing to do. I had to get half the money for the ticket from my mother (which I stupidly left sitting on the table at home), and the other half from my dad (the $20 that is in my wallet) in the first place. I am not very nice. I am always doing things like this.
I am very uncomfortable with myself and with my life at the moment. Hah, 'at the moment'. It is only in rare bursts that I can ignore it, or that I genuinely feel alright about things. I can feel like that for a couple of hours sometimes. But usually only in the school holidays or weekends when I can: be alone and do what I want. I think that is all that everybody wants. I know I am going to have to get another part-time job sometime soon. Before, I was eating hotcakes at McDonalds, and I wrote a list titled "Cosas que tengo que hacer"- Things that I must do. It was a page long. There was a strange man sitting opposite me dressed very femininely with reddish/purple dyed hair taking photos of himself with his camera-phone. |
|
|
| Buscando. |
[Oct. 17th, 2005|08:13 pm] |
Y yo pensaba por un momento,
en el silencio que nos tuvo:
No tengo nada. Nada.
Mi mente solamente me atormenta.
Eres una ilusión. Un espejismo.
Estoy dormiendo.
Este cuerpo, estas manos.
¿Lo puedo tener todo?
Váyate lejos.
Todo es demasiado.
Estoy cansada y duele mis ojos.
La verdad. ¿Dónde podré encontrarlo?
Vengas más cerca.
Nada es y nunca será.
No me importa.. no me importa..
Eso es sólo lo que yo me digo -
Yo nunca podría
hablar, amar, mirar,
oír algo que fue la verdad.
Fuiste el primero. |
|
|
| As queer as a clockwork orange |
[Oct. 17th, 2005|08:02 pm] |
|
Bit cold and pointless isn't it, my lovely?
bit Cold and POINTLESS isn't it,
my lovely
? bit cold
and pointless isn't it, my
lovely?
BIT cold and pointless
isn't it my lovely?
bit COLD and pointless isn't it, my lovely?
(bit cold and pointless) isn't it [MY] lovely (?)
(b)it(c)old_and[point(less)]is(n't)it?
B I T C O L D andpointlessisn'titmylovely?
bitcold and pointless isn't it
My lovely
? BITCOLDANDPOINTLESS
isn't it [[my]] lovely [[?]]
bit <cold> and <pointless> isn't it my <love>ly?
|
|
|
| Dylan Thomas. |
[Oct. 10th, 2005|05:43 pm] |
"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light." |
|
|
| Days-of-the-week. terrible similies |
[Sep. 30th, 2005|11:14 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sore | ] |
Argh! What is the Spanish word for Friday, and why, in the Days-of-the-week can I only get as far as Miercoles? !?!?! I mean, not even 'as far'; miercoles is the only day I remember altogether.
Well, it could be because I only had three hours of sleep last night, every second of which was immersed in the thick stifling blood of my dreams. Hahahahahaha.
I HATE having a bad sleeping pattern. I don't actually care that much at all. It just makes me forget things like the Days-of-the-week in Spanish. And I only got on to the subject of the word Friday because I had to run my mouse over the thing in the right hand bottom corner of my computer so that I could know what day it was. It could have been Monday. Not really. Because I know what Sunday is like, and I would\v known that sunday was not yesterday. It's strange how even in the holidays the weekends stand out. Not really. It isn't strange, I know. *shoots self*.
So now I'm dead and talking to you from the other world. Haha. The other world. AHAHAHAHAHAHA. Oops. Excuse that short burst of deathingly, cackleley, uninhibited laughter. I I I I didn't mean to offend you. I'm only lying. Some people are so offensive. Not me, I mean, just me laughing then wasn't offensive. But some people just are. It's funny. The nicest people I know are quite offensive. But then there's this whole other type of saintly-nice, and believe me if you will, I actually really do no some true saintly-nice people, and they would never dream of offending. You start to feel very uncomfortable around these kind of people after a while. They're just so nice. And I start to feel inadequate kind of thing. There's nothing I hate more than feeling inadequate. And those people just make me sad. I'd go for a violent criminal over a church goer any day-of-the-week. But you would too. You would love anyone who I love. Unless I was lying when I told you I loved them. I can't lie about that anymore though, so don't worry.
There are too many saints around for it to be something worth lying about. And by saint, I mean violent criminal. Tonight I must get more sleep. I feel like such a stupid today. Actually, I've felt like such a stupid for about two weeks, but possibly more. It is a horrible, horrible feeling. Sometimes I think my head is just a big hollow ball. Like a pumpkin on halloween. Hahahahah. A right horrorshow, my brothers. |
|
|
| e.e cummings |
[Sep. 19th, 2005|06:52 pm] |
SNOW
cru
is
ingw Hi
sperf
ul
lydesc
BYS FLUTTERFULLY IF
(endbegi ndesignb ecend)tang
lesp
ang
le
s
ofC omego
CRINGE WITHS
lilt(
-ing-
lyful
of)!
(s
r
BIRDS BECAUSE AGAINS
emarkable
s)h?
y&a
(from n
o(into whe)re f
ind)
nd
ArE
GLIB SCARCELYEST AMONGS FLOWERING |
|
|
| Sylvia Plath. |
[Sep. 14th, 2005|03:28 pm] |
The Night Dances
A smile fell in the grass.
Irretrievable!
And how will your night dances
Lose themselves. In mathematics?
Such pure leaps and spirals -
Surely they travel
The world forever, I shall not entirely
Sit emptied of beauties, the gift
Of your small breath, the drenched grass
Smell of your sleeps, lilies, lilies.
Their flesh bears no relation.
Cold folds of ego, the calla,
And the tiger, embellishing itself -
Spots, and a spread of hot petals.
The comets
Have such a space to cross,
Such coldness, forgetfulness.
So your gestures flake off -
Warm and human, then their pink light
Bleeding and peeling
Through the black amnesias of heaven.
Why am I given
These lamps, these planets
Falling like blessings, like flakes
Six sided, white
On my eyes, my lips, my hair
Touching and melting.
Nowhere. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 2nd, 2005|08:48 pm] |
life is a very good place to be! I am glad that I am here.
Today was a cool day. I have not been at school in the last 3.5 days as I got sick! And I am still sick! But I feel ok now, the worst is over! So, you're probably wondering how I never write in here for months, and then I suddenly just come on and start writing nonsense like how life is great? when everyone KNOWS that life is really this terrible terrible place to be , right? no kidding i mean i watch the news. but anyway, I'm waiting for my mum to get ready as we're about to go out for dinner. So I decided to write here in a rushed way like now i mean really i am typing so fast right now its crazy i mean look at how fast i am typing i could get a job in court or something.
And just before that I was playing the piano very fiercely for about half an hour until my right limb thought it was going to fall off. Today was fun and I am happy because I saw Josh and Aiden and they are happy. Also I am happy because I am sick but I am not in any pain because of this anymore, because only the irritating things like coughing and flegm are left and my sore throat is no longer here. Now I'm going to go and eat some spicy red hot food that I can TASTE!
What else can I say? Oh yeah, I have these shoes on! and they are black and leather and shiny and the bottoms of them are worn out and they are like tap dancing shoes, and they bend-up/point up kind of at the end like clown shoes! or pixie shoes! they are much fun to wear.
And I went to Europe for five weeks a few weeks ago. And it was the best thing that you could ever hope for anyone.
Seriously. Seriously. Seriously. Seriously. Seriously. Seriously. Seriously. Seriously. Seriously. The 'trying to convice you' record got stuck sorry. I am in a very bad mood, as you can see!
Don't even ask me about the trip. There is too much. And I couldn't do it justice with just my words. Best thing that has ever happened. Well, you can ask me about it if you like and if you have patience.
So long! |
|
|
| Playground. |
[Aug. 29th, 2005|06:58 pm] |
i avoid it for as long as i can
but you know i'm caught out now
my eyes would deceive me forever,
they hate lying, and i cannot yell
as loudly as you can. |
|
|
| Bukowski. |
[Aug. 28th, 2005|08:17 pm] |
|
these legs need to run
but i kneel |
|
|
| El fin. |
[Jun. 24th, 2005|07:16 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  blank | ] |
| [ | music |
| | None. | ] |
Tomorrow at 7.30pm I will be on a plane to L.A.
I will stop over there for a few hours, then I will get on another plane to Frankfurt, Germany.
After a few days/weeks or so there, I will go in the car to Switzerland.
Some time, maybe before that or later on, I will be going to Holland and maybe Austria.
Then I get on a plane by myself, and spend a week in London.
After that it's back to Germany, then to Spain for a few days.
From Spain I go back to Germany, from Germany to L.A (for a 6 or 7 hour stopover this time, I hope I can get out of the airport), then to New Zealand.
I will be back in Auckland at 6.30am Saturday 30th July 2005. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[May. 23rd, 2005|09:08 pm] |
Unaffected
Result: 22. Your score isn't an achievement, it just is. |
| Psychologist Simon Baron-Cohen and his colleagues at Cambridge's Autism Research Centre have created the Autism-Spectrum Quotient, or AQ, as a measure of the extent of autistic traits in adults. In the first major trial using the test, the average score in the control group was 16.4. Eighty percent of those diagnosed with autism or a related disorder scored 32 or higher. The test is not a means for making a diagnosis, however, and many who score above 32 and even meet the diagnostic criteria for mild autism or Asperger's report no difficulty functioning in their everyday lives. You scored less than 32. Make your own assessment of that |
|
My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
You scored higher than 60% on points |
| |
|
|
| La vida. |
[May. 21st, 2005|06:26 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  loved | ] |
| [ | music |
| | Ray Charles- This little girl of mine. | ] |
The computer in my room is working, so I might start writing in here again. What has happened recently? I have moved schools, got a saxophone, stayed half the time at my dad's house and half at my mum's, was given a laptop from Esteban which I use for writing, musiked, happy masked, learnt about war at school, spoke spanish to a spaniard and german to a german.
I leave for Germany in almost one month, I'm going from 25 June-30 July, that's all of the next two week long holidays, and I miss the last week of this term at school, and the first 2 weeks back at school in term 3. The idea of this trip hasn't quite kicked in for me yet. In that month i'm also going to Switzerland, Holland, England and Spain.
I quit my job. I got $60 worth of library book fines. My brother bought a new car and crashed it at 2am this morning. I went for a weekend to Huia for a Spanish camp and learnt how to make Torta de galleta and I peeled and cut some onions for the Tortilla Espanola. My dad got married. I got harrassed by his wife over the way I hold my knife and fork. I got worse at writing but read a book of Sylvia Plath's poetry and I'm watching a movie called "Sylvia" tonight, based on her. Went to the supermarket this morning with Michael and Tara, waited in line to buy three pieces of dried pineapple, then we went to the public library and played one hours worth of word games. Going for car-driving-learning licence soon. |
|
|
| bleguh |
[Apr. 23rd, 2005|08:51 pm] |
|
The weather.
Flesh.
Taste. Explore. (under the
blanket speaking it’s freezing)
Rough. But not
Enough
Quiet voice. Telephone.
Dumb. Silence Silence
(volume control? there’s no
control, no)
Laugh Smile
Cough
Fuck.
Addictive. Don't do it
Don't say it Don't say
It.
So (?
tell me something interesting, -)
[my -, my -,
we’ll betogetherforever]
Cold [.]
It
Burns. |
|
|
| Another fucking supermarket- Stanley Donward. |
[Apr. 19th, 2005|10:35 am] |
As usual, I was in a supermarket. If I'd thought about it, which I suppose I did, there were quite a lot of places I'd rather have been. But... you know. I don't ever remember deciding to spend any time at all in supermarkets, but there I was. Trying to buy something. Something or other. I'd forgotten what it was, which pretty much seemed to be the supermarket's fault. There were a lot of aisles. A lot of light. I was amazed at the way people steered their shopping trolleys past those pushed by other people. That was just skill. When it was busy, people waited their turn for the baked beans or whatever.
Underneath the supermarket there were trenches where demons shovelled bodies - the dead, the half-dead, the wounded, the despised - into deep trenches. There was a horrible sense that everything was inevitable. Down there, things were dusty and left behind. They powered the lighting system with every regret the shoppers above had ever had. Even their subterranean sewerage systems were operated by regret.
Up above, in the supermarket, everything was keyed up for some sort of trancendental moment... the space, the light, the congregation. But nothing happened except for shopping.
Um. No problem there, I suppose. That would have been okay.
Really, it would. I could have coped, and everything. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Apr. 15th, 2005|08:49 pm] |
|
i am unable to write about the texture of your skin there is nothing there
"when you were lying on the white sand, a rock under your head (and smiling)"......
was it always like this, did i never know
why
why
why
why
why
why
why
why
why
why
why
why
why
i t hi nk
youthink
she thinks
he thinks
but...
they ? |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
senderismo's journal