Random Shots at Random Hours

I climbed a massive sand dune, when all others gave up halfway, I continued the struggle, I knew it would be worth it.

We Captured the Ant!!

This looks like a Penis Plant.

Weird.

Let the Journey of Life begin and let it be devoured…

Making Valentines cards..

Someone people are commenting on the lack of consistency within my life. Others say my concept of reality is one of my own imagination. I can be deceptive, sneaky, dumb, coercive, manipulative and upfront.

This year is going to be about me, finding me, discovering myself. Who am I? me of course, There’s not much more to it than that..

Weaving in and out of the portals of the souls around me that provide toxic poison. Revengeful of those who embarked on a war against me, I always wanted to be the one who was never vindictive, but drastic times calls for drastic measures.

Regardless of the fact I have been left in the deep end yet again but a vial sad excuse of a human vacating my house. Declaring bankruptcy or consolidation 5 year wagers is my only way out. I just tried to have the gas reconnected to no avail. I’m sure I will be issued with an eviction notice soon. My stomach grumbles in the place where food ought to be, my tainted fingers from cigarettes now remain empty bar when I managed to bum one off someone, my liver has fully recovered and would like to remember what alcohol is.

The Invasion is beginning...

My medication was paid for by another lost soul. One I long to see again, for it has been such a while, but I doubt fate will ever allow our paths to cross again for the trail the road could turn into, would be hopeless and futile for both of us.

I’ve been accepted to start another job, as a barmaid, whilst I wait for the hopeless HR department of another company call me to offer me to fly up north. I passed my medical in all aspects. I’m not sure why the process is taking so long, surely they want me to fly up there now? Still, I have applied for many more recruitment agencies, thus have a group training session for Monday. With a company where I have many friends also in isolation. The original company I am waiting to hear from, was so I could be with one particular. The lost travelling soul. But alas, he called and is being moved to another site. He promises to get me up there, but I’m doubtful if I do actually want to see him again.

New Diary

I have an organiser now, Whenever someone mentions something, or invites me, or asks, I write it in instantly. It travels everywhere with me. Whether I actually make it to all invited to is another issue in itself. I like the fact I can call to arrange payments with different companies and have somewhere to write it all down. I feel strong within myself. Seeing what Alcohol did to my best friend a few weeks ago has put me off drinking for a while yet. And sex, I’m *trying* to remain abstinent. I want to get back into writing more. Being arty… I even held a day of scrapbooking and card making at my house on the weekend. It was relaxing, different and enjoyable.

Next on my to do list is update add listings for a housemate. It seems hard to find one in this city these days. For now I am hosting cultural nationalities of such.. And I plan for this blog to be more photos like. Any suggestions on how to improve it would be greatly appreciated..

I came across this "Fork in the Road" scene upon embarking on a new path of my life. This road layout make's no sense whatsoever.

Medication Day One

Day one of new medication. Unresearched as of yet. Taken at 6.45 this morning. 50 mg.

It’s now the afternoon and I’m finally not buzzing at much. Throughout the day I had a clenched, tightened jaw, rigid back and shoulders, teeth almost grinding, shivers of impulse like someone is watching across my grave in the future but in fast succession. Blurry vision, shaking arms, sore stomach, an ill desire for the repulsiveness of food. My boss happily mentioned my eyes looks glazier than iced donuts and repetively walks behind me making ghost noises and ‘Can you see the future’ as he waves his arms like an evil spirit. At least it cheers me up. My mind is racing a million miles an hour. I’m thinking of so many different things, all bunch into segments, dissolving from thoughts, hanging the ends, mismatching words and stories, sentences hyphenated, yet if i allow myself to think about what i am thinking about, its actually nothing ive been thinking about the past few weeks when ive been stuck thinking about the things I don’t want to think about.

My teeth are sore, its 1000x worse than coming down off gear. Gear come downs are nothing to compare to the climbing hill of starting medication. I’m fidgety, having the same conversations with the same people multiple times in one day. My memory is worse than when i was a stoner right now. I wonder when the come down from this will begin to take place? or how long I will stay this high up, until the  weight of the hidden thoughts bubble over the top and brim stain the linen of the lining?

At least I haven’t been sick, nor do I feel like it. I hope this curbs my nightmares. But everyone knows, only smoking weed stops nightmares. its unfortunate I don’t smoke weed, so nightmare preparation each night it a must. Water. Fan for the sweats. clean sheets (relax, for the sweats not anything yucky), something pretty to look at, my body pillow (should really bring my teddies to bed now I only have a few left and I have such a big bed to myself) I need windchimes. I just remember a pair I’ve been carrying around since I was ten. Last place I had them was when I moved house. I wonder where they are now? My dreamcatcher is ripped from its hanging place no matter where I put it, or how hard I glue/stick it to the spot. I know I’m not allowed nice dreams, but just a break from the blood, the screams, the death, the torture, the voilence, the hatred and the fear that accompany me everynight. I may get long enough sleep, but are u really sleeping when you can count 8 different nightmares that wake u up crying each night? how can ur brain be sleeping when all it does is conjure up evil images and scene’s for u to live through, more horrid than the activity u put it through during the day.

Thus I’ve been scared of sleep. I chose not to sleep much the past few weeks. Surround myself with people in far away locations who also do not sleep. but for other reasons. An addiction. I do not have addiction, unless you classify finding ways to take away the visions or the sleep that allow them to creep in, an addiction. But another persons addiction is not my way of survival. Too long ago did I go too far down that road. I shall keep exploring. Find that place, that thing that creates magic when I close my eyes. It must be out there. waiting for me to discover it.

Smooth Operator…

Welcome to Christmas Eve morning. 9.18am to be exact. Awake and Alert albeit somewhat stoned on Medication. Been awake for hours after an AMAZING sleep with NO NIGHTMARES!! And you know why? A Massage!! A Massage cured my nightmares. Truly this feeling is making me stactic. And also due to the fact I didn’t drink at all last night.  I’m finding myself experiencing a new thing in life. And seeing as my life on the outside has been quite boring of late, I thought I shall do a feature on the current situation.

I’m lying in bed after having already spent the morning seeing three seperate friends and chatting to numerous more on the phone. Now I sit alone propped up in my mountain of a bed with sarongs of bright colours lining my walls, the sound of the wind russling through the windows, and just then as I type, the custom ringtone of someone in particular.

Upon my return from a trip, say nearly 8 weeks ago. An furrow of simple, plain, non intrusive texts, but a generalization of life through text, has exchanged. As u can imagine, after 7 weeks of this, the curiosity got the better of us. A Beach meeting, with friends, laughter and the Ocean. Time evaded, didn’t happen. The next time he was on his way over to pick me up, his friend called for getting busted DD. And to add to this, no doesn’t get pissed for the sake of it, and best of all, i mean its a terrible dirty thing to be happy about, but he is a smoker. Not weed or anything like that (He’s becoming a pilot?) but he smokes about 1/4 the amount of smokes I do. So thats cool.

Anyway, have had two long dates, water, sun air etc etc, still haven’t even held hands. My Gal says its because I’m not used to someone taking it slow, and my all means, I’m not complaining. Best thing of all, I did get a massage, utter 100% not sexual, but it got rid of my nightmares!!! Didn’t just block them up and cloud them over like the meds do so sometimes it seaps back in, but I actually had HAPPY DREAMS!! I honestly don’t remember the last time that happened. I’ve run out of meds and lost my keycard so i cant go refill my script, but i think I may have found a natural cure.  As much as I’ve been avoided it, Merr… nope, haha fuck it. Happy Thursday??

Glass

I’m not a violent person. I’m really not. I’m not the one who leaves holes in the wall from throwing glasses at boyfriends head. It 2am. Covered in blood. I’d been copping abuse all night my from my gal. Verbal and blackmail like. Everyone was like, what the fuck? Is she crazy?

To cut a long story short, after me receiving copious amounts of shoves and items thrown at me, she then proceeded to grab my hair as i walked away. I turned to hit her as she kicked me in the kidneys, but as I had a glass in my hand, I didn;t want to hit her. So I elbowed her instead, but then she reacted and pushed my arm out, thus causing my fist to hit the roof of her car and shattering in my card (My hand is full of  cuts and shards of glass) the broken glass then fell down upon her at high speed from the force of my hand hitting the  roof. I have witnesses who have verified tonight that I was in the right state of mind and  it was self defence. I’ve been sober for more than 8 hours.

The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources

I’m happy.  I’m relaxed. My mind is at ease. The blockage of thoughts is finally filtered

Rent Inspections – The point? I’m not sure, I’ve only had one since I’ve been in my house for the better part of two years.  I was meant to have one last week. My gal and I had the day off, Swallowed some No-Doze, Chased it with Red-bull and proceeded on the dust, cobwebs, linen, rubbish, toilet rolls and food remnants around the house. Pasta thrown on the wall for checking time.  If it sticks, its ready. Also some on the roof.  Sticky blue streamers aligning the walls from many a party ago. Glass throughout the house swept into piles, then the vacuum broke. Doh.

I hope when they inspect today (after missing the one last week) They realised how hot the god damn place is in summer. Perhaps I should have waited till today to Alfoil my windows. I slept in utter darkness, not awoken by the rays of light bouncing off the colourbond fence 1 metre away from my head. I woke up to a dark cool room. You have no idea how happy this makes me. I’m eagerly ecstatic to sleep in tomorrow!! yay!! Actually, I have my work Christmas party tonight at a nightclub, and I’ve given up my spot in the shared hotel room with my mates, to help a girlfriend out so she can stay with her man, and so I can sleep in, not only a dark room, oh no. But a CLEAN room (Domestos even used – Although it did stain some things) with CLEAN sheets and it just feels so damn CLEAN!

The guests tomorrow night who somehow end up in my room (as we always do) are going to be gobsmacked with the space of it. and the fact its CLEAN!

I’m quite anxious over who may be present tomorrow night. I mean last time I was so incoherently wasted prior to anyone arriving that I still don’t recall who was actually there. therefore, it doesn’t matter. However I plan to be soberly straight for the entire event of tomorrow, thus my conflicting anxiety kicks in. Perhaps I will just share a few joints and let the good times roll. The music was over powered last time and fights broke out over it. This time, people have requested they bring their own music onto made up cds and iPods etc. The night IS about MY Gal and I so therefore, we will change the music as we see fit..

It has also come to my attention that my light brown fluffy hair above my lip, has this year become more prominent. I said I never would but the time has come to swallow my words. I’m waxing my upper lip. God have mercy. I’m allergic to some waxes, the last thing I want is to look like a swollen buffoon at my work do tonight, and my event tomorrow!!

On the upnote, Meeting a guy tonight that I’ve been smsing and talking to on the neat and phone for almost six weeks now..  First one to be vulgar, or dirty etc. I’m liking it, ready to meet him.

PS: I’ve been maintaining abstinence.
PPS: It’s make me horny as hell *TMI
PPSS: My Gal and I have been best friends for 8 years and one day!!

A tiny number of suicides have been tenuously linked
to anti-depressants, and on the basis of these
unproven accusations, an entire demonising bandwagon
has been put on the road.

You may have heard of my beloved. She is part of the

SSRI (selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors) family

of anti-depressants – Prozac is her somewhat more

famous big sister – and she is a bit of a slag, since

over 100 million people worldwide also have her in

their bloodstream.

Another consequence of the surreal, stupid ‘war on drugs’ – where billions of pounds are spent trying to flush every prohibited toxin from the insides of every Londoner – was revealed this week. A Scotland Yard study admitted that although white ABs like me are the most prolific drug users in town, young black men are almost always the ones arrested for it. George Rhoden, chair of the Yard’s Black Police Association, said, “It has got to be about racism.” Sing it, sister. Drug use is so integral to London, and so impossible to defeat, that the ‘war’ against it simply gives the police an excuse to harass anybody they (dis)like. It is cruelly, bitterly unsurprising that nearly a decade after the Lawrence Inquiry, it is still black men who are the usual suspects to be rounded up at every turn.

Tis the Season to be Jolly

The only time you will see me with some kind of Celebration for Christmas emblazed..

I haven’t really noticed Christmas is approaching. I plan to do nothing, Celebrate nothing and be with no one. After all, its my first single xmas, meaning I don’t have to spend it with someone elses family as I do every year, feeling like an outsider or getting unwanted sympathy from not having my own family to spend it with. The only present I’ve purchased so far was a plant for secret santas at work. I killed his two plants who let me look after one holiday, and I also killed my cactus. Didn’t think it was possible. That’s how pink my thumb is No green about it what so ever. So I figured a plant would suffice as a replacement for two.

Last years I spent $3k + on present, gifts including hand made creations, all for my friends, family, even aquaintences. This year I’m too broke and really can’t be fucked. I wanted to escape to Bali, or stay in a hotel But now I’m thinking I cruise up the coast in my car, pick a spot along a beach, have a few rods +bait and a few tins of food and enjoy the serenity of being on my own. Yes That’s what I want for Christmas.  Relaxation. At its best.

I really want to start doing Colour Splash Photography..

And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.

I know the reason for it being as it has lately. Why I sleep with a candle burning next to my slumberess head. I feel the breeze and touch of the spirits, I hear the laughter and singing they bring with their presence, the crying and weeping they try to hide from you. I’m not sure why she is so persistant with death lately. I guiltily should have realised sooner. I diassociate the lapse of time I should never forget. So pressed into my mind are nightmares. The most vivid and creative ways of death, pain and torture upon my soul. I do not ask for this. I hate this.

I slept 23  hours straight over the weekend, not from cause of my own. My body was trapped, under my mind which forever churned out the dreams and events before my internal eye, not allowing my body to function and awake itself.

I dreamt of rape. By someone I am fearful of. He came to my house, held me down, My screams muffled by the sting of his fist against my face. The throbbing of pain between my legs and the arch of my back in a wrongful unnatural position. I tried screaming. Nobody came until it was too late. I was found bruised and bloody slumped against a wall.  He walked away laughing. This is a dream I remember so vividly but wish not to at all.

I dreamt of fire. Burning housefire. We were pulled from it safely. But as I watch the flames lick closer to where my written and photographic posistions were held, I sobbed and reached out for all my memories soon to be lost. No place left in the world, no record of my existance being able to remain through such force. I ran back into the house. Clutching and ducking the beams of fire above my head. I reached the bookshelf, I touched my albums and diaries of years gone by. They turned to dust.  The fire hadn’t even reached that area yet, but somehow, life did not want these possesions to remain. I let the blackbness ofthe charred smoke fill my lungs, sting my eyes, and the carbon dioxide to take my conciousness.

I dreamt of death. The death of a baby. I was in another life, perhaps myself older, mature, calmer and above all, happy. I was surround by love and warmth, and carried a beautiful double set golden pair of rings upon my wedding finger. In my dream, I tried to recall the other aspects of my life, who was I sharing it with, where was I living? But my dream did not want me to know all this, just understand I was happy in my time. I felt sensations in my abdomen, and remembered a flash of a warm embrace with someone and realised I was pregnant. The dream focused in fast succesion the process of change upon my body. From subtle growth, to the gentle bubble like feeling of when the child moved inside me. The happiness at baby showers, lotioning the growing skin, Laughter and soft pink colours of a nursery. The the day arrived, I was surrounded by loved ones, the pain of giving birth in a dream was rather frightening, but overtaken by adrenelin. The bundle arrived, the room went silent. A bundle wrapped in pink was taken out of the room. I searched the eyes of the attending people lingering in the room, their eyes showed sadness, beyond belief. I wanted to know what was wrong? Why was there no crying coming from the other room, why was no one acknowledging me? I jumped out of bed, and ran into the adjoining room. There before my eyes, was a hollow, lifeless gray body of something so tiny and miraculous, it looked like it wasn’t even there. I had given birth to a child who had already passed on.

I dreamt others like the three above. Each time waking up sobbing, screaming, exhausted, irrational and dillusional. But to relive the rest of them, in order to detail them in words, would exhaust me even more. Just the memories of such visions, so real and life like, that my brain still has trouble deciding the difference between reality and not. I don’t want to know to be honest. Sleep allows me to avoid all in life. Well I thought it did. I want to sleep to escape my reality, but my sleeping mind is now worse that real life. I’m scared to go to sleep, and scared to stay awake. Is there not some place between I can substantiate a viewing glass of life? Yet not be involved as much as I am at the moment… I’m scared of the next second, the next phone call, the next email, the next letter, the next conversation with someone around me, scared of tomorrow, of tonight, of deciding anything from lunch to where should I be on my break. When I make a decision, I’m scared its the wrong one. I’m not normally like this, but I feel as though I given the reigns of my soul to someone else for a while. No one in particular, just in auto-pilot mode whilst I take a break. Oh how badly do I need a break…