All that the universe wants to tell me is that I'm great
people keep taking that away from me
I've learnt to listen to myself
I'm great
Georgia, you're great
it's okay to be great
you don't have to be afraid of it
you don't have to pretend it isn't true because it might hurt someones feelings
you don't have to be modest
down play it
you don't have to be anything other than who you are
anyone you have to pretend around is wrong
if they stress you out
they're wrong
if they make you feel anything other than yourself
they're wrong
That doesn't mean you have to stand still
that doesn't mean you can't grow
can't change
can't be better
can't make mistakes
can't progress
can't reflect
can't adjust your actions
change your mind
or apologise
But you can say no
you can back out
you can call people out
you can tell the truth
honesty is a BFG 10,000
shoot a giant hole of evolution into them.

Another friend
another leech
another thing that can't see beyond themselves
another it that claws and scratches at kindness
another cat turning away from me
more effort gone to waste
more kindness left unseen
more lessons learnt that shouldn't be
more proof that the world punishes the good
more evidence that the selfish are strong
that truth is ignored
that the people who claim to love so much
know so little of love
they can't see it
when it's shouting at them
I'm so tired
GROW THE FUCK UP
I AM NOT YOUR MOTHER
I AM NOT GOING TO FORGIVE YOU
I AM NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS
YOU HAVE NO POWER HERE
FUCK
OFF.

I'll give you something to be jealous about.

Is it you?
Is it?
Perhaps I'll never know
Perhaps the trick is closing my eyes and simply falling
I've landed on bricks before
I really hope you're something softer than that.

You understand the things that can't be understood.

An Amendment to Ella Wheeler Wilcox's "Solitude"

Laugh and the world laughs with you:
Weep, and you're not on your own;
For the sad old earth
Must borrow its mirth,
While your friends won't leave you alone.

Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is caught in the air;
The echoes bound
To a joyful sound,
But those you love truly do care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and true love won't go;
They want full measure
Of all your pleasure,
But one will carry your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many,
Be sad, and some might fall;
There are none to decline;
Your nectared wine,
But true friends will drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and your family come by;
Succeed and give,
And it helps you live,
But your family won't let you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train;
But together as one
We must all file on
Through the wide aisles of pain.

Boringess is Bliss

I always knew I was destined to never lead a boring life.
I've learnt too late that not boring doesn't necessarily mean happy.

Drama Rama

God I'm dramatic.

I never want what I have.

I am an artist. Definitely an artist.
An artist with so much to say but no way to say it.

It's All A Bit Much

I'm trying so hard to follow my head and my heart, to interpret what I'm trying to tell myself.

I can't see the future anymore, everything is so confusing I don't know what I want or what's right or true or correct. Everything is stressful. Is he the one? Is he true, is he correct? Is he helping? Is he harming? Am I in love? Have I made the right decisions, am I on the right course? The future is so mysterious to me, I used to know what I wanted so well. It was all so obvious but everything is just sad. Should I go back to the first one? He's familiar, he's safe. He tore me apart but I didn't feel this depressed with him, things were secure, things were safe. Now things are unknown, mysterious. I was so happy now I'm not. I can't find it, the happiness anymore, every day is hard, I'm losing the light. It's fading from me, life is nibbling at me constantly, unrelenting, it's tearing me apart by the seams. I've only ever aimed for what's good and true how does that always end up in people being hurt? I can't figure it out, nothing is working am I a good guy? Am I slipping? Am I fading?

Love Has Torn Us Apart

I wish I loved you.

It was so nice, perfect even. I can't believe I finally found someone with the same ridiculous thought patterns.
I've learnt so much about happiness and love and loss, I wish I didn't have to learn it with you.
I wish we could have stayed perfect, it disintegrated in front of me like trying to catch a sand sculpture.
I dream about you often, more than I think I've ever dreamt of anyone.
The thing I fear the most is that you'll leave my life forever hating me, not understanding why I didn't want what happened to happen.
I remember when I said "I wish I loved you" it saddened me so much when you asked "clearly you don't, why would you wish for what you don't want?" because it so clearly meant you didn't understand me at all. I don't think my reply was right or interpreted well I said "why does anyone want to get high after a comedown?" or something like that. I was trying to explain that loving you was beautiful and amazing and of course I wish I still loved you because I loved loving you but my feelings were swept out from under me like a magician and a table cloth.
Love to me is an external force, it's not something I can control and it moved on from me and you. Now with some time between us it doesn't make much sense, we were so good together it worked so well but I still don't love you. I miss you so much, I do love you but I don't want to be your partner.
I want you around so desperately, I keep thinking of stories you'd love and how I'd tell them to you, I think a lot about your laugh, your smile...
I've lived most of my life without you but I really am struggling to see a future without you in it. It's going to be so difficult and I don't think I can be the person I was without you. There's a piece of myself I think that I gave you while I loved you and when I had to tell you I didn't love you anymore that piece left with you.
I miss you a lot. I really hope it'll be okay to see you again, to have you in my life. I'll understand why it won't be possible but if there's even a small chance of saving the happiness we created when we were in the same room together I would like to fight for it. This world is so miserable and so many unfortunate things happen, I'd really like to aim for keeping the happiness alive where we can.
If I could I would come back to you, I would be with you if it meant I could have you in my life but I know that's not the solution to any of this, that's not what anyone wants.
I hope you come around, I hope you're not suffering too much, I wish I could help you, I wish I could make you laugh again, I'm so good at making you laugh it's one of my favourite things to do. It's killing me that I've hurt you. It really is.

I love you
because you're real.

I'm sick of death being an option
and my head swimming
around
and my tears
clogging my nose
and my head
telling me things that aren't true
I'm tired.

These images will haunt me
the ones of you
the ones not of you
these images will haunt me
they're already haunting me
they're already a memory of when you loved me
everything now is a memory of when you loved me
while you hold me
while you smile into my hair
while it's happening
it's a memory
while it's happening
every moment of you is a memory

One of those nights

This could easily turn into one of those nights
where I get a little lost
This could easily turn into one of those nights
where I get into bed feeling as though I just left it
This could easily be one of those nights
where my good mood died with the day
and the night is restless without end
This could easily become one of those nights
where productivity was a memory
and the head I wear to get things done with is put aside
while I spend five hours downloading games I won't play
This could very easily be one of those night
where I wake up wondering what the hell happened
in my own bed
in my own home
after a sober night in
wondering what the fuck happened
It could easily be one of those.

I'm getting very concerned
that I'm beginning to take things a little too seriously
and when I catch myself doing it
I'm worried the wind will change
and the person I once knew
who was a little dotty
and who wondered what it was like to be irritated
might not be around any more
and I'd be stuck
with this stranger
who scowls a little at bus drivers
and who's a little unpleasant
if a packet of sugar is missing a grain

It's all a little silly you know
Oh you didn't?
That's a shame.

Death

Pros: Nothing
Cons: Nothing

Life

Pros: Everything
Cons: Everything

Baffled, he glanced back again as though looking at something he didn't understand twice would help him comprehend it.

No one can see the future
even when somebody tells you what it is
your perception now
cannot understand distance
it isn't a matter of belief
or the impossibility of time travel
we are creatures of action
and can only know by doing or experiencing
when the world ends tomorrow
we will say
alright, but let me finish.

All you do is torture me
with your absence
all you do make me sad
with your memory
if love is so beautiful when it is right
how can I feel this pain
My existence without you
feels a waste
when you are not here
a blackness descends
and when you are here
I know it will descend when you leave
I am sad with you
I am sad without you
I love you too much
to be happy.

Somebody loves me.

If you get a chance, try existing for a while. Just a while. It doesn't have to be long, perhaps ten minutes or half an hour and in that time just exist. Don't do anything else, simply be aware that all you have to do is exist and take pleasure in that for a while. This sensation is felt best when it's dark, under the folds of many blankets on a night when you're drifting off in a way that is much more pleasurable than other nights. Things seem a little more comfortable and warm and safe and the burden insomnia is yesterday and the things you have to do are tomorrow but now all that you must do is exist in this moment and you are able to be in this moment without distraction or pain or discomfort. Simply experience your existence in a state where all that you can do or should do is lye down and fade into deep nothing. 

People From My Past Popping Up in Strange Places and Remembering My Name

It put me out.

The Internet

Allusions to God-like symptoms.

Autumn is the saddest season
not because of the rain
or the clouds
it's the light
the most beautiful soft, golden light
opens itself up
and mimics the dying leaves
I don't know why that light is so sad
perhaps the beauty of it
reminds me death
my grandfather died in Autumn
all those years ago
my first boyfriend broke up with me in Autumn
all that time ago
my birthday's in Autumn
I've never been very happy on my birthday
the light reminds me of something fading
of new beginnings
of leaving things behind
change always feels sad.

Sad Sort of Sunday

There is a sadness and a happiness which comes with everything
like a cold Autumn afternoon, perhaps a Sunday
where every now and then, the sun peaks through and casts a light so beautiful
and then it fades
and the colour of cold Autumn is back
but with a memory of light
and the light is beautiful
but it is sad because you know it has to go
and then the cold Autumn gloom is a little sad
but it is beautiful because that kind of light
only comes on these cold Autumn Sunday's.

The mess in my room
is leaking out the door
I found a glove
inching towards the hallway
on a pilgrimage
or a sea change
from the bustle of a chaotic order
trying to find somewhere
that isn't occupied by a boot
or a jumper
things it doesn't get on with
I wonder why its partner wasn't there as well?
the mess in my room is getting complicated.
END.


Further Ideas:

I received a letter of Alimony for a Ms. Glove the other day

Why Did You Have To Be High?

I finally saw you today
  but you weren't there.

Hello cold air

a hot tea

a bath

does nothing to drown your sorrows

a book

a light song

feel like echoes in your wake

nothing penetrates you

cold air

your hollowness prevails today

My home isn't my home
it never was my home
it will never be my home
I need a home
more than anything I need a home
that's my home.

I can't always control where my mind goes
and I had hoped that somehow you could be there to still it
because you do
but there's always something
something in the way
and I can't escape my circumstance
or my mind
I can't escape with you
I can't get on my path yet
and I feel better in motion
this stagnant frustration
is making me think
I'm better off on my own.

You replace everything that isn't there.

Today I love you.

I hope all photographers aren't like the ones I've met

I'd have to choose another profession.

I can't decide if I love or hate him most days
I suppose it makes sense I finally fell in love with him while he wasn't here.

It keeps things interesting at least.

When there's nothing you can do
you can do anything.

Useless pens
for useless people.

To fall in love
and stay in love

Being in love
and then not being in love

There are stranger things
but it's not something I'd like to get used to.

It was lying, larger than life, in the centre of a road in a place where you could forget was somewhere. It had sort of grey tan with dark brown stripes on its legs and tail with fainter spots of dark everywhere else. It lay as if asleep or caught between a stretch, like a photograph. The flies hovered on its paws, lips and eyes as if it were a pillow. It was a big cat, a tom perhaps. If it were a feral or a pet was hard to say, its fur was remarkably smooth and I felt compelled to pet it. It was the strangest thing to see, there really isn't much difference between life and death though I wish there was. I came home and sat on the couch with my old cat sleeping soundlessly on the rug with a soft lamp casting warm glows through the room. She was mostly in shadow and was laying in a strange way that meant she was deeply sleeping. She was breathing very softly and it was easy to think of her as dead, she looked very peaceful but also quite stiff and I found it very strange how easily I could imagine such a beautiful thing as dead.

Man, what a ridiculous thing.

What a ridiculous and fascinating subject

The subject of men

Ha!

You're an artist
you are!
Huh?

What else could there possibly be a photograph of?

Just this once
the ticking of a clock is not a dread
but a comfort
it is the reminder that time will continue
must continue, has to continue
there is no stopping it
and that my fear that it may stop
is unfounded
impossible
it will keep going
despite everything
and take me away from this place.

If only it could be stopped
when I reach my destination.

I cannot sleep without you
I cannot dream without you
I cannot think without you
I cannot do without you
I cannot be without you
I cannot see without you

Phantoms

The loneliness within you feel

it is not right

it is not real

it too shall pass

it will not stay

the phantom pains

will go away.

The Disappointment of Freedom

His eyes screamed for me with a soft beauty that only can be reserved for a desire so desperate that some may call it love. Love; such an unfathomable force it spares no one its finely tuned spines. I dare not wish it upon the darkest of hearts and yet its iron grip holds not with brute strength but with a sweetness that confuses, like chains made of feathers or light. So absolute is its hold you feel empty without it, like a prisoner being jailed so long they find the freedom of the outside world a stranger and long for the comfort of cool iron bars. The disappointment of freedom. Because once free from the pains of your imprisonment you are also free of purpose, the purpose to be free. Freedom has no purpose; once freedom is obtained there is nothing but to be free and what does anyone do with that?

When you start to miss the things
that piss you off about a person
then you know you're in trouble.

The Oracle was Confused

it's all in your head
this strange sense of dread
has no place in the spread
draw another card
she said.

My cameras lay dead
lost in the folds of doubt

I know I'm becoming boring
and I can't stop it
like a tsunami of sop

I'm not used to this.

Every time



I check


the dates



they say





he's not here.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder as they say
he said

so I said
distance fucks you up more like.

Will this Love Ever End?

When in love, there is no other state of being but to be in love,

There is nothing else to do but to be in love

No other face is visible, but the face of love

It is an anxious boredom

An exciting insomnia

The days in between the days of seeing your love are non existent

They are gaps in the world of love

When you see your love it is the purpose of your world, of your being

It is a filling sensation

As though a sieve has been turned into a bowel

And the eyes of love are like glass

Transparent and absent and yet full,

Full of the memories of love

And the head of love is dizzying

Like hard dirt pressing into the sides and filling it

Love is drunk

It is a chemical alteration

As though some substance has been taken

It is a trip or a stupor that has no end

It is a fun time with no come down

Like Ritalin, it keeps you awake long after you have wished for sleep

It’s a ride that you can’t get off

It becomes a part of you, a state you have to live in now

You learn to deal with love

You familiarize yourself with this rose tinted curse

You come to terms with the idea that his face is all you will ever see again

His smell is the only thing that you can sleep by

His embrace replaces meals

And his kiss is like water in the midst of a hangover.

When he holds your hand it is as though the goal of your life has been fulfilled and there is nothing left to do but be held.

To love and to be loved

And to know you are loved

And to know that he knows he is loved

And everything else is a wash of water color

Blurred and undefined.

And little by little

You remember the life you had before love

The things you found important

And you go back to them

But they seem lost amidst this world of love

They are shadowy outlines

Difficult to grasp

Through the haze of love

And with enough time

The shadows become more lucid

They gradually turn opaque

And now the world of love has grown

And the map is larger

And the life you lead before entering the world of love

Is now a part of this new world  

And you remember your other loves

And you know there is more than one kind of love

And you know there is more to do than love

So you go back to your other loves

And you begin to write about them

And you write about love.

I Am In Love

I am in love

And the spiders are breeding in my room

I am in love

And the underwear I have already worn lays draped across the floor, across books; smothering my room with the scent of sexual frustration.

It reeks.

I am in love

And everything is new and fresh and clear and everything is sick.

I am in love

And my stomach churns.

I am in love

As the papers pile up and the letters do not get read and the phone calls are not made and the computer does not get fixed and the photographs are not taken and the words are not written and the thoughts are scattered and the free radicals are eroding them and the candles burn as the music is played and the longing burns as the drinking is done and the paranoia and the sickness and the turmoil

as the spiders breed. 

Georgia. You're not like the other girls.

Five Descriptions Of What Happens When You're In Love

1)  When our naked bodies are lying upon each other I feel a melting sensation, not an emotional sensation but a physical one. It is as though our skin is merging or that the atoms in a bodies are in the exact place to form a bond. Like a diamond, it is as though our guts are melding into one another.

2)  When we kiss and I stop kissing you I immediately forget what kissing you is like. I kiss you for hours and hours in the same way or in different ways it doesn't matter. When I stop it is as though all memory of ever being near you is lost and I have to kiss you again.

3)  Your smell is like a blanket.

4)  The way you hold me is like some pill that switches off my head and there is nothing but bliss. You alter my state of being.

5)  In everyone there is a void, or some hole that they feel, and you live there.

I can't stand being in love

I stop living

I don't know what to do with myself

without them

when they're not around

I squirm

nothing seems worthwhile

and I would drop anything

if it meant a date.

Being in love is the blues

there's nothing to do any more

but love 

and sometimes be loved back

when I know I will see them again

every day is in the way

until that day

I just can't stand being in love

all my plans are shot

and I just live for them.

I wish I were mad enough

to admit myself to an asylum. 

I'd get to talk about myself all of the time

the conversations would be so enjoyable. 

Never have a felt so attracted
to someone I loathed
and when we lie naked
in euphoric peace
happy with our own company
you will speak
and I will tell you to shut up
jerk.

Once in our lives we had moments or times where everything was peace and contentment and beauty, we experienced moments or days which were so calm and loving and we felt as though no wrong could ever pass us. Once we feel that we spend the rest of our lives trying to find it again, everything we do is aimed at finding that moment again.

High school was/is a terrible place
I hated it while I was there
I hated leaving it
everyone wants what's best for you
and you always feel like shit

I once experienced complete contentment.

I once had a moment where everything was peace and I was calm and everything was beauty.

I will spend the rest of my life trying to feel that again.

There are too many memories in this city.

Documenting Memory sounds like a terrible title for an exhibition.

I'm starting to realize that perhaps my mum hates memories as much as I do.

What a crazy year

I can't believe I have to go through another one.

There should be a punctuation mark for contempt.

When I feel like this, I should just go to bed.

the artists urge, like shitting like carrying a baby like being homosexual. It's there innately. Pop art. Candy for artists.

I don't feel like I am an artist, I feel I am a fraud. 

I miss talking to him.

I stared at the future and it stared back. I am afraid.

I can never go back to those days.

I don't want to see a psychologist any more.

I feel I am alone.

Sometimes people listen with their eyes.

Humans were not meant to be alone
there are certain things that cannot be done alone
there is always a spot on their back that cannot be reached
and must be washed by a second pair of hands.

We are meant to have lovers
we are made as bricks are made
to lay with other bricks.

We are meant to have lovers
our backs are too far to reach
to wash on our own
our bodies are born with grooves
that can only be meant
for arms to lay upon.

We are meant to have lovers
our hearts are on our lips
and eyes are made to be looked at
not with
it is no coincidence
that the memory of embraces
leaves us empty.

Never sleep with friends

just don't do it.

On that note, never sleep with clever or funny people

or anyone you enjoy hanging out with

or seeing

or talking to

never sleep with a person who you like

never sleep with someone you would miss

never sleep with someone who you would regret never seeing again.

Stop going crazy Georgia
they're beginning to notice.

A Girl and a Boy Talking Outside a Church

- I don't wanna hear that he ever gets out because -
rapists
there needs to be more awareness of violence you know like violence, it really has gotten out of control hasn't it?
- So you think it's international?
- I most certainly do, I know someone whose come all the way from Bendigo just to see this.
Beautiful girl.
- Oh yeah.
- Honestly I wish we had the death penalty, I honestly do.
- How long have you been here? A few hours?
- Yeah I'd say a couple of hours, how about you?
- Yeah just half an hour.
- Are you going to put some flowers? I mean you don't have to but it would be the nice thing to do.
This is just so huge, like, it's just scared everyone and I mean my parents are scared now because I used to come here all the time.

A Girl on a Phone

You wouldn't believe where I am, you wouldn't believe it!
I'm on  tram!
Yeah, to the city.
Yeah.
Nah.
Nah, I've got my parole appointment.

and then I think a lot of people smiled because they expected as much.

Haircut

His girlfriend needs EN-TER-TAIN-MENT and wanted me to come over and I said Noooooo!

ATROCIOUS

She nearly impaled herself.

I'd never known anyone to impale themselves at a barbecue. 

She almost impaled herself on the barbecue.

I could barely keep my eyes open.

Like I've got nothing better to do than to go over to your place

That was when I started to kiss Kent.

She needs EN-TER-TAIN-MENT. You don't say that to someone. If you even like someones attention, you wouldn't even. I mean, can you even IMAGINE a girl saying that to someone? 

Okay, that's going to get rid of a lot of the bulk and I'm going to take that right up shorter...

You're just going to have to trust me on this one.

Work

On the Phones...

- and that's the first time I'd seen my partner cry because he thought I was going to die.

In the Tea Room...

- Still here?
- Yeah I can't be bothered going back on the phone. I'm reading about why failure is the most likely outcome between the Israeli and Pakistan clash.

- and then there's this female Robin who comes and helps him because he got his face smashed and it's really cool and then he's in the mud and Batman's like 'you're slow now' and the other guy is like 'now we're both slow' and it's so great, just Batman punching a lot of faces.
- Cool, I'm going back to work.

A Small Night Out

Part I

How are you?

Part II

How do you find it?
I thought I'd ask because you seemed like you knew.
You're standing there like you're deliberating the music
like you should have an opinion about it
like you'd have something to say.
They're all weird aren't they?
They all seem weird
they just come to dance
I don't think these experimental guys really realize that
they're not really listening.
I just completed my schooling you know
I thought I'd come down
yeah me too,
I only heard about it today.
Excuse me while I go dance with my friends.


Part III

You're not dressed up?
Are you married?
How tall are you?
What time do you start work tomorrow?
So what's your pay like?
do you get more on the weekend?

Just drop me off here please.
Okay, $30.

If I were myself...

There is a mood I feel sometimes
sometimes I feel as though I should not be here
that it is only a matter of time
it is usually when I'm happy or at peace.
I feel I am a ghost
disconnected
I live in a place I have lived my whole life
and I still bump into the walls while walking through the doors
at least once a day
they never move
perhaps it is the walls way of telling me I shouldn't be here
perhaps they are bumping into me?
Like a bully passing me in a hall
and when you drop your books they say
'sorry'
while walking away
smirking to their friends
I have never hated an apology more than in those moments.
When I am happy or at peace
I remember that everyone must leave
and I feel frightened all the time
because one day they'll leave
and I know these walls will hold no sympathy
they will be cruel
and silent.
I talk to so many sick people where I work
I talk to many who are old
I talk to people who talk of death
and I come home
and every cough
and every pain
reminds me
and when I am happy or at peace
I am very sad.

Not everything is better in black and white
and if you believe this
or tell people this
then you know nothing of photography.
A photograph is not taken to look good
at least not in art
at least not in truth
when an image is created in truth it is created to match the thing that is in the image makers head
sometimes to match that image the photograph must be in black and white
sometimes it must be in colour
sometimes it must have grain
sometimes it must be clear
sometimes it must have people
sometimes it mustn't
sometimes it must have contrast
sometimes it must be dull
when you say "this is a good picture, it would 'look' good in black and white"
you are not seeing with your gut
you are seeing with your arrogance
and you are disrespecting the image maker
it is similar to seeing a painting and thinking it would 'look' good in black and white
the painter has selected those colours very carefully
and it is apart of the meaning of the work and the mood of the work and the feeling of the work as much as the subject
when you think or tell or talk to someone about a photograph and say it would 'look' better in black and white you are ignoring the choice of colour, you are ignoring the image makers concious decision to have it coloured and you are not treating photography correctly.
It may be a terrible photograph you may not like it
that is fine
that is good
but do not think it would look better in black and white
and perhaps it would
but it wouldn't mean what it was meant to any more
and photography is not just about looking good
it is not about numbers
gadgets
or pixels
photography, when given to someone in search of truth
just as with any medium
is about showing someone what you mean
and if you don't understand
find another photo.

It's hard being a photographer sometimes
you can't show someone a memory
you can't pluck it from your mind
and say "here, this is what I saw today. This is the story I want to share"
and I can't draw
I wish I could
it would be much easier to look at that funny person I saw today
and then draw it later
without them ever knowing I found them so interesting
when you have something pointing directly at them
like a finger
or a gun
when you have to create the thing you want to create
right here
right now
when you have to observe and capture
simultaneously
it can be a little tricky
and people don't like it
and so it turns into a moral battle
between your own desperate unexplainable needs
and the rights of others
no wonder photographers are usually loud
there's a courage there
but we're scared too
but sometimes the fear of knowing that the thing you just saw will never happen again
and that there is no other way for you to capture it again
outweighs the fear of being yelled at
or annoying someone
or having your camera smashed to tiny little pieces
or your face
I guess I could write about it
but it's not the same
and I could sketch it or paint it
but it's not the same
if a painter took a photo instead of painting it
they wouldn't feel it was the same
and sometimes you don't want to take any more pictures
but things are still happening
sometimes you want to just live
because seeing everything through a camera
changes experience
and is draining
so there is a choice also
of when to capture
and when not to capture
because you can't capture life without living
and you can't live without capturing life
it is very difficult
I've always told myself
it's the pictures I didn't get to take
that shape the ones I do
but it still hurts a little
that those photographs will always have to swim around in my head
like a horse I never bet on
or a stove I never switched off
and there will be more
but that's something the photographer just has to leave with though
in a sense it's a life of regret
the regret of not capturing something
the regret of capturing and not experiencing
my camera leads such an interesting life
I wish it's memories were my own
but photography isn't truth
just like painting or drawing
it can't capture everything
and what it does capture is selective and depends on the person taking the picture
just like choosing which pencil to use
or which colour to paint with
a photographer must choose what to capture
what not to
when to take the photo
when not to
how to take the photograph so that what is in my head matches what is on the camera
it's just another tool
like a brush or a pencil or a pen
so that the person behind the tool
can put what is in their head
outside of their head.

I've always liked your drawings

and I've told you that

"I love your drawings" I say

and you always seemed uncomfortable

I thought it was because you were modest

which I always found to be strange

because you shouldn't be modest about what you choose to do every day

you shouldn't be modest about your love

well I suppose you can be

but I don't think you're really like that

so I wondered why you would glance away

and not respond

and then I looked at your drawings again

on my own

and I mean really looked at your drawings

and then I begun to realize 

that all those funny people

and shapes

and things on the paper

weren't as ambiguous as I thought
and we're not so different after all
it's just harder to hide behind photographs.

It's time to worry
when the job you hate
becomes something you like
and you're not sure if it's because you like it
or if it's just because somewhere along the way
you stopped hoping.

Lately I've been in the mood for things that I don't like.

Of course I'm beautiful
I'm Georgia Quinn
eyes like summer
and lips like spring

skin of winter
and autumn hair
I do what I want
without a care.

Men are strange
and I have come to learn
that it is not for beauty, wit or intelligence
that they fall
but I find that they do respond quite well
to accessibility.

I need some new bras too

I really like those minimizing ones

Maybe it's time you think about getting them reduced

What? Not yet, later maybe...

Well why not now?

Briany hasn't got them reduced yet

But she has children, she's having children. You're not planning on having any children are you?

Well no...

Why are you limping?
Please tell me.
One meow for yes
two for no
are you hurt?
Are you old?
Alice, why are you limping?
It bring tears to my eyes to see you hurt
to see you walk and suddenly
one of your front legs collapses
and you sit
as though nothing happened
your dignity amazes me.
You are like an old nun
strait and tall
wounded behind your long black folds.
Please don't limp any more.

Sometimes words are bullets
severing something
just important enough
to leave a trace behind
and they get it out
leaving tissue damage

sometimes
the bullet can't be gotten out
it's too close to something
important
and it swims about
for the rest of your days

sometimes
through the chaos of war
or the mess of human error
the bullets come from our own gun
and it's so close it breaks through your back
and hits another behind you
and then you are both left to bleed
on the floor
hoping
that someone might find you.

I've got to get out of this neighbourhood
a high school teacher I recognized
but did not know
said hi to me today
and then told off a boy in a school uniform
standing next to me at the tram stop
'Anything could have happened,
don't do that again,
what would I tell your parents?'
things were said I don't remember
I felt I was witnessing something I shouldn't
a mother telling off their child
in hushed and spitting words
and strong affirmative tones
the poor boy didn't know what had hit him.
She walked back accross the tram tracks
pleasantly smiling
to the large group of boys jeering across the tracks
she stood with them smiling while they jeered.

I remember seeing this kid alone
walking to the stop
I thought
I know what you're going through buddy
he walked like I used to walk
alone with nowhere to go.

I haven't had many good experiences with teachers
there are good ones and bad ones
there are teachers who are mothers
some who are friends
others who aren't really there at all
and some who are there but who are not friends.

I don't think I ever had this teacher
but she was always around
she looked like a coordinator.

I felt for that kid
tall boys in uniform laughing and pointing like Neanderthals
she stood there
in front of this mob
she was miniature in comparison
like a toy
with that sick smile on her face
like she was proud of something.
When she said hi she called me by name
I don't think I had seen her for years and
my hair was very different to how I used to have it then.
It's almost suspicious how teachers remember you like that.

She said.

It's really funny how you can be so clever and insightful sometimes and then have a really immature sense of humour.

To which I replied.

Dick jokes are the future.

It doesn't make sense
that life and death
are so strongly connected
to some pay cheque.

Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring!!!!! Bring!!!!! Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bri- Fuck off.
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Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring Bring

When will you be home?

When will you be home?

When will you be home?

Call me.

Call me.

Call me.

Call me.

Give us a call.

Give us a call.

I'll call you later.

Call me later.

I'll call you later.

Bye.

Bye.

See ya later.

See you soon.

Good bye.

See you when I get home.

I'll see you when you get home.

I'll see you when I get home.

Where are you going?

What are you doing?

Who are you seeing?

Whose playing?

Where are they playing?

What time are they playing?

What time will you be home?

What time will you be home?

What time will you be home?

Who are you meeting?

Call me.

I can pick you up.

I'll pick you up.

Call me so he can pick you up.

What are you doing?

What are you doing?

What are you doing?

Are you going out?

Are you going out tonight?

Where are you going tonight?

Are you going out tonight?

Tonight?!

Tonight?

Tonight?

Bugger them.

Don't bother.

Don't go.

Don't go.

Don't go.

Fuck em.

Get rid of them.

Get rid of them.

Get rid of em.

Will you be home tomorrow?

Are you going out tomorrow?

Have you got work tomorrow?

What time have you got work?

What time till?

When?

When?

When?

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Well call me.

Art.
Lets make some art
I'm an artist
art art art art art art art art art art art
It's all about art
Good art
bad art
I'm arty
She's so arty
I always thought you were eccentric
that's art
that IS art
What is art?
It's all art
Everything is art
that's great
you're great
This is great
That is great
that was great
That's not art
This is art
Artists
ART WORLD
THE Art World
That Art World
art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art art arf arf arf .

I think I heard them say I'm crazy
then maybe someone responded
'she's not crazy, she's just sick'
I think my parents think I'm crazy
I was half asleep though
Were they yelling about me?
Screaming?
I heard the word diarrhea
I think my cat made a mess
I'm paranoid
what will they have to scream next?
What if there's still water on the bathroom floor?
Did I leave the bread board out?
I slept too long again.
What am I doing wrong?
What are they saying about me?
I heard my name.


I heard my name
didn't I?
I think I heard them say I'm crazy
then maybe someone responded
'she's not crazy, she's just sick'
I think they think I'm crazy
I think my parents think I'm crazy
I think I'm crazy
I was half asleep though.

Someone was screaming
about something
always about something
always for a reason
they're not crazy
I heard my name
What have I done?
I don't know anymore
impossible to say
my clothes are on the floor
did I leave the bread board out?
remember to vacuum
I need to change your sheets
I slept too long again
There's a pot in the sink
the benches are clean
the rubbish is out
I tidied the bathroom but there's a pot
in the sink
HOW COULD I FORGET THE POT IN THE SINK.

They think I'm crazy
they were screaming
I heard the word diarrhea
I think the cat made a mess
take your shoes off
they're too loud.
What are you still doing up?
It's 3am
go to bed
have you got work tomorrow?
how was work?
how was work?
how was work?
why can't I ask you about work?
You're making dinner?
Okay...
have you made this before?
No? Okay...
*hover*
what's in it?
I don't want a lot
Mmm, this is nice
and you haven't made this before?
Is there more?
Thanks.

Another scream

Another Scream

AnOther Scream

AnOther ScrEam

AnOther ScrEaM

AnOtHer ScrEaM

AnOtHeR ScrEaM

AnOtHer SCrEaM

ANOtHer SCrEaM

ANOTHer SCrEAM

ANOTHeR SCrEAM

ANOTHeR SCrEAM

ANOTHeR SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREaM

ANOtHER SCREAM

ANOtHER sCREaM

AnOtHER sCREaM

AnOtHeR sCREaM

AnotHeR sCREaM

AnotHeR scREaM

AnotheR scREaM

AnotheR scrEaM

Another scrEaM

Another scream

another scream

another Scream

Another Scream

AnOther Scream

AnOther ScrEam

AnOther ScrEaM

AnOtHer ScrEaM

AnOtHeR ScrEaM

AnOtHer SCrEaM

ANOtHer SCrEaM

ANOTHer SCrEAM

ANOTHeR SCrEAM

ANOTHeR SCrEAM

ANOTHeR SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREaM

ANOtHER SCREAM

ANOtHER sCREaM

AnOtHER sCREaM

AnOtHeR sCREaM

AnOtHeR sCREam

Another scream

Another Scream

AnOther Scream

AnOther ScrEam

AnOther ScrEaM

AnOtHer ScrEaM

AnOtHeR ScrEaM

AnOtHer SCrEaM

ANOtHer SCrEaM

ANOTHer SCrEAM

ANOTHeR SCrEAM

ANOTHeR SCrEAM

ANOTHeR SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

ANOTHER SCREAM

Lies and Other Statements

I was drunk
I didn't get much sleep
I'm tired
I was going to be there
I was thinking about it
It's on my mind
I don't have to live by your social constructs - man
I have issues
It's been a big year
it's been a long day
In a million years the sun will blow up and nothing I do will ever matter
if I died nothing would matter
I could kill myself and nothing would matter
My alarm didn't go off
I slept through my alarm
Something bad happened
I don't feel good
I feel sad
I'm depressed
I can't get out of bed
My head feels funny
I'm not feeling well
I'm not good enough
I hate myself
Everyone hates me
I'm never leaving the house again
I don't want to
I can't
I will
I'm going to
I'll be there
It'll be great
I've got work in the morning
I'll do better next time
I'll change
Everything will be better
You're right
Okay
I'll do it tomorrow
I know
The walls are closing in
The computer hates me
Technology hates me
I didn't mean to be late
I won't be late
I'll try not to be late
The bus was late
The train was delayed
Public Transport
I didn't mean it
This is wrong
I don't know why I did that

Hawthorn
Jesus Christ only Hawthorn
one more stop and my mind will be gone.
I left my sanity at Flagstaff.
There's some kind of perpetual haze in this carriage.
The fluorescent, omnipresent lights of the train. The dizziness is at full pelt and anything with a pattern moves and curls slowly, rising vaguely until I need to blink. the train at night. Any chance of sleep rubbed away by the insufferable lights. Like daylight. Like a sun, burning with a white light so fierce I'll never sleep again. Like onions in my eyes. Like tiny ice-picks. Like razors covered in ammonia. Does it have to be so BRIGHT? I can't see any more and those FUCKING people. Talking. Around me.  Just- THERE.
My sanity fell through some hole 22 minutes ago. Some man is there. He stares occasionally at me with his eyes closed, startling himself awake. JESUS CHRIST Where am I? There's an elbow touching my shoulder somewhere behind me and I wonder WHY IS THIS HAPPENING. This empty carriage. This abyss of plastic and THERE'S SOMEONE TOUCHING ME. my left eye twitches slightly as I glare through my madness at this place that doesn't make any sense.
"See you later David" the intercom is speaking to someone all around me. Confusion reigns.
WhoTHE FUCK is David.
My mind babbles to itself trying to find a way to take the lives around me without being seen. If it wasn't for THESE LIGHTS.
My God. This is the end.
I'll never know where David went.

This weather is like young love.

And so horrified, terrified and mortified by the potential of his own failure, he drew a bath.

He caught me
 for a little while.

Words Unsaid.

Death
Love
and Time
All will intertwine

I find the saddest death of all is the one you choose for yourself.

You're in my RSS Feed he said

  How romantic.

It will all come out alright she said
it will all come out alright
through a hazy screen
we lay the scene
it will all come out alright.

It will all come out right she said
it will all come out right
another thought
the past is fraught
it will come out right.

It too shall come out right she said
it too shall come out right
a tear a beer
my sweet my dear
it too shall come out right.

It all will come out right she said
it all will come out right
the feelings that you're having now
will pass, will pass
never mind how
it all will come out right.

Worry
Sorry
Always worry
When I wake up the next day
I wonder why the
Worry.

You keep seeing things, Georgia
just out of the corner of your eye
you keep crying, Georgia
over things that have been and will go by
things keep moving forward, Georgia
it's strange that you don't know why
you seem to be going crazy, Georgia
it's as if you think you'll die
It's all just in your head, Georgia
it will pass I don't deny
it's going to be okay, Georgia
just give it another try.

and it's always love
my ruiner and my joy
always love
my decadence and my drive.

Sometimes I say things I do not mean or the opposite of what I think; it is a reflexive denial of myself. 

This love of mine
isn't right
it's a pain
and it's a delight
you're inside my mind
it's almost sublime
but I treat it as a blight.

You promised me the world my love
you promised me the world
I try I try
a kiss a sigh
you promised me the world.

Paracetamol Tea

I feel like I might die.

He was standing with a microphone
the man who never breathed
He said women are mans greatest weakness
and I walked passed
and I smiled.

And still and still.

Dishes are a funny thing,
everyone approaches them differently with varying attitudes.
Bukowski wrote something really interesting about them until it got extremely sexist, but nobodies perfect.
The kitchen sink is a thing of beauty and horror.

I think I enjoy accidentally hurting myself.
You don't feel the regret if you were to do it on purpose
and physical pain is a much easier sensation to concentrate on than the stuff in your head.

I apologise for everything I've done and everything I'm going to do.

Nobodies perfect
you just need to hope that the imperfections you do get stuck with don't offend people too much.

Stuck in Time

I had another hard time sleeping last night.
My wired thoughts went somewhere strange
like they always do
and I ended up in time.
I was suddenly aware that I was moving through time
constantly
and there was nothing I could do to stop it
shit
I thought
this really sucks
I don't like it, I want something to change
anything
But I couldn't do anything
I'm stuck
Trapped
I'm going to keep going forward
and there's nothing
Nothing I can do.

I don't like repetition. 

You never fall in love with someone you like.

It happened again

it always happens again

I hang out with incredibly interesting, lovely, talented people
and then there's you.

I bet I'll fall in love with a writer
you can quote me on this
but I'm going to end up with a writer
I'll hate it, and I'll damn him
but I'll love him to pieces
and that is what will happen.

I can resist anything

but temptation.

I'm constantly aware of my age and my period in time but that doesn't stop me freaking out anyway.

I'm fucked
basically.

Another cup of coffee and cream
another question
another poem
another drink
another doubt

Oh God. My heads doing that thing again.

All the Time

You know those days
when your mood changes its colors
15 times
and you wonder why
because there's no reason for it?

That's how I feel all the time.

It's all hysteria
confusion
and then it isn't
but really it is
I think.

There's a thing
inside
and it's pent up
and it sighs
it wonders why
and it says
the future is
nigh.

She asked me to help her make eggs.

Poached.

She said she never makes them

I tried to tell her

it's easy I said

Anyway she made them without me

there was a recipe left open on the table

'Poached Eggs'

They came out perfectly she said.

I told you.

My heads everywhere again.

I stirred a murky thick slime
it's waters churning
eating the honey like a suckling babe
it oozed to my lips
and I sipped
it was good.

Another Reason Another Lie

Have you noticed it's really cold in here?
My fingers are stiff
it's hard to type.

I turned the heater on
it's cold in here
did you know?
It takes a while to heat up though
it shoots musk into the air
it's warm but I can't breath.

It's fucking cold in here.
Another reason
not to type.

There's always something.
It's unfortunate
but there's always something.

You Can't

You said.
You are so young
you cannot write the things you do
you cannot pretend to feel.

To which I replied,

If I were on a stage
you would clap your hands
for speaking as someone I have not met.

If I were a painter
they would call me great
for painting a face
I do not know.

If I, an old widow
cried to a song called heartbreak
sung by a virgin
who would question my tears?

If I write about an illness I have never had
and a sick man told me he loved my poems
I would thank him kindly
wish him well
and write another one.

I slid down the bannister of the escalator
just as I always did
just as I always knew
I lost my balance and slipped
I landed at the bottom of the steps
my knee still hurts
and I was grateful
I'll do it better next time.

Drying with a wet towel. 

I can't escape my mind.

I think my neurons have switched
there are connections where
there were none before
the wires have mutated
I will never know who I am
this paranoia
is a little crazy
I don't think I've felt real
for a long time.

I hope this happiness lasts.

lol fuck

My mind is space
it contains nothing
and everything
all at once.

Maybe my mental problems are just all in my head.

I'll take my perspective and leave.

It's a funny thing for a photographer to wish they could wipe their memories.

I shouldn't have gone out last night.

Sex Appeal

He was standing near the door
in snake skin patterned boots.

His hair was almost to his shoulders
it was wavy with layers
but not in a pretty way
in an 80's way.

There was something about him
he had this strange appeal
and although he had all the calling cards
of some kind of lay about
I couldn't help but imagine
taking him to bed.

He was almost a rock star
I was drawn to him
in a way I'm not used to
I almost felt like leaning against him
and whispering something near his ear.

Just one night.

But the fluorescent lights
and the atmosphere
were a little wrong.

As I knew he would,
he got off the bus
before my stop.