hope and loneliness

There's a hopeful feeling at the beginning of loneliness, a feeling like I might really be alone and then I'm nothing that relies on anything and I might be a singular thing for that moment. It's a feeling that doesn't watch itself.

Toothache

Don't even think about it tooth, I know what you're doing, making gum go all bulbous and tight like that and let me just put a stop to it right now. You are not allowed to get infected.

Writing

I just did an online career aptitude test because when I have to make a decision I like to base it on information that is all sciencey and shit, it said i was 100% suited to being a writer, which is a bit of a slap in the face because what on earth does one do to achieve that, I'll tell you what, you sit in your pajamas and do your blog with 41 page views and two followers, because practice is why and because, well some super rich person with a whimsical attitude towards what they invest in will be like "This is the whiney voice I've been looking for, come! Write for my small but elegant publication and I will pay you handsomely!"

That's what's going to happen, no doubt about it. Also I'm trying to get more productive in my art and people seem to think that writing in the mornings is helpful to that, the idea is to write whatever comes into your head and spew vent with no censorship which is sort of like what I do here but not really so maybe sometimes I'll just do this and then I can tell myself I'm establishing a productive routine, Then I don't have to leave the cosy comfort of my computer and venture into the sparse world of loungeroom where housework looks at me with passive judgment and scribble in a notebook that wishes it was filled with more interesting things.

The boy is still asleep. I think it might be fun to go jump on the bed to wake him up but then he will hate me for the rest of today. Perhaps this is why I should do it, perhaps his hate will fuel me and inspire me to new levels of excellence. Blah bitty blah. We got a new fridge the other day which is great because the old one didn't fridge, it freezered everything, and it smelt like beer and piss, not my fault, it was a free hand-me-down from my brother.

I worry that my intent is misunderstood by everyone including myself, it gives me a headache. Blah.

Bitchcop

Walking to get groceries, go past road blocks, looks like booze bus, Barbie-In-A-Bulletproof-Vest seems like she's power tripping, think nomore of it, get groceries, embark upon homeward journey, Barbie, henceforth known as Bitchcop, puffs herself up, storms in front of us, no eye contact;

"You can't go that way!"

Being the demure darling that I am I tentatively exclaim "How the fuck are we supposed to get home? You could have told us this when we first passed you."

Bitchcop rolls her eyes & flounces off valley girl style huffing "Yeah because the whole world revolves around you."

Real public service, not a word about why the road's blocked or how long we can expect to be sitting in the safeway carpark.

I respond in more bafflement than anger "That was a bitch remark."

I can honestly say that although my presentation of these events may seem to have a gender bias I believe I would have said the same thing had this been a male cop.

After thinking it over while I wait and listen to screams of "Get on the ground, get on the ground!" I decide that I was unfair, Bitchcop has a hard job, it was probably a very stressfull night, I shouldn't let the fact that she looked like a kid on Christmas the whole fucking time give me leave to interpret her motives.

So as we were leaving I say to her "Sorry I got aggro I don't like confined spaces"

Bitchcop gets that bully look, that cat that saw the mouse look, waves her arm about and says in a speaking to the thinking impaired voice "This is an open space"

...Which we were confined to?

Turns out she was just a bitch.

Everyday

Everyday I spend most of the day thinking about what I should be doing with the day, from right where I am I can see a painting that could use more work, dishes that should be cleared, washing to be done and boxes still packed. I could go get groceries but what if I left the house and someone talked to me, and as soon as I've written it it seems stupid. But what if I left the house and someone hit me, not very likely but I feel like I have a very punch-able face. So if I don't leave the house then I'm here all day depressing myself. And if I do I will feel better and be proud of myself. But what's the point because it will be the same bullshit tomorrow. But, this week is better than last week everyone says if you take little steps things gradually get better. But people are idiots. People are monstrously, willfully, ignorant and soulless arseholes. So what the fuck do they know and why should I listen to them?

Fluxing English

Language is always in a state of change, it evolves depending on the dominant forms of communication. To fight this, to constantly correct peoples grammar, spelling or styles of speech is just an attempt to reaffirm a social hierarchy on the grounds of class, education, culture and exposure to media sources. This censorship limits the exploration of new concepts as all curtailment of speech does and sets up a policing of form where an effort to understand what is trying to be conveyed could have been. To dismiss what someone is saying on the basis of how it is said does not invalidate their opinion, it leaves you in a smug bubble of your own ignorance.

On a related note every person I've ever met named Dean has been a pretentious arsehole, don't give your child a name that alludes to guardianship of knowledge so strongly, it sets them up for a lifetime of snide pettiness.  

Being bored

Over analysing my over analysing is not helping, being bored is making me anxious and being anxious is boring me, so here are some paintings, enjoy the fruits of my (and Kevins) genius.

Stuck

My dad once said that I "always needed to be rescued" so maybe this is true, maybe I create situations where i'm in a vulnerable or perilous position to try and manipulate other people into fixing things for me, which validates me and makes me feel needed and cared for while at the same time creating a sense of forward motion in my life with very little effort on my behalf. On the other hand maybe my dad was just being a dick. I don't know. Possibly both. Well, see, there it is, if things aren't going the way i want it isn't the result of poor decisions on my behalf, it's because someone else failed me, because of course I'm too broken to be responsible for my own actions. Then I can demonize someone else and be the poor wounded little heroine, but to interpret my actions this way plays into the cycle. So I'm stuck. Help.

Smiling.

I love today, it's sad and warm. I fought with my sister and listened to SunSay & John Forte who I hadn't heard before. I feel faith in myself and I feel flawed. I smiled and then I felt more like smiling.

Doggy Dog Dog

I hate these hoards of ideals formed so predictably from trends and concepts that have been around long enough that any positive impact they once made on society is done and absorbed so that now a bland foamy light brown sludge of intense fervor is frothed out of the mouths of unbelievably naive people whose eyes have a steely glint of righteous conviction so overwhelming I want to lay down and die because there is no way that i can see of arguing with a well meaning idiot.

Also I want a dog because a) I will feel safe with a dog b) it will force me to be out and about twice a day c) it will be my friend d) it is a good aspect of home security. The only negatives i can think of is it might dig up my newly planted flower bed and that i might be a negative influence on a dog, the financial and physical responsibilities might be too much for me, but that's not my view that's what other people have said. I think I would be good for a dog.

I cried at footage of a live show of Mumford and Sons today, the one where the audience is singing and there was and advertisement that said "Are you human" and for a second i felt great and connected because yes I was human, being a useless crier and all but then something snapped and changed and I wasn't sure anymore and I felt dead and even more useless, like I'd never make anything or feel anything real. because nothing exists very much and I'm the least convincing of all creations.

But I might just feel that way because I haven't washed dishes or clothes or self for too long and now I'm sort of trapped in the house by an awareness of my own filth. If I had a dog to come to the laundromat with me and whose need to be walked made being presentable enough to leave the house a priority then I think that would work out. It would be like having a braving heart dog. Get it?

I saw a beautiful husky cross on the pound website, I think I could take really good care of her, I felt a simpatico with her, even before I saw her bio which said she had some behavioral problems. Ok enough for now. The new house has a big backyard by the way. so a husky would have enough room to run around.