dear whoever

dear precious

where are you in the world tonight?

are you still in your head

or is someone else hogging the spotlight on the stage of your life?

dear resilient

where are you in the world tonight?

are you still feeling alive

or are you numbed by the inconsequential actions of the omniscient they?

dear hopeful

where are you in the world tonight?

are you still lighting candles on the beach

or have they all been extinguished by callous winds?

dear schoolbound

where are you in the world tonight?

are you still dived in, nose all burrowed

or are you throwing away your shackles, are they being ripped away?

dear naive

where are you in the world tonight?

are you still open and bright and relatively unblemished

or are you tired and drawn, and really not so naive after all?

dear driven

where are you in the world tonight?

are you still in the office, burnt by fluorescent light

or have you learnt that the buck only stops where you let it?

dear precocious

where are you in the world tonight?

are you still skilfully avoiding trouble again and flirting with the world

or are you locked away and huddled in your own self-oblivion?

dear headstrong

where are you in the world tonight?

are you still screaming your head off, mouth wide open, testifying to your own freedom

or are you complacently taking a bow and shutting up for once, like a good little girl?

dear terrified

where are you in the world tonight?

are you still crying in the corner and wishing the ghosts away

or are you fighting the demons, sword on sword?

dear ahead of your time

where are you in the world tonight?

are you still off on a tangent foretelling another future

or has foreboding rammed your wisdom into a box?

dear big time

where are you in the world tonight?

are you still shining in the splendour of your own garrulousness

or have your eyes started to squint in the bright lights of little big me?

dear ruthless

are you still tossing them out along the way

and treading on their heads to get to the next one

or have you been tossed away and forgotten now too?

dear so-like-me-it’s-funny

are you still so like me it’s funny

or am i more like you?

i oscillate.

I oscillate between insecurity and not caring.

I oscillate between complete self control and complete insanity.

I oscillate between love and hate and life and death

Every morning I awaken and my mind spins around the concepts.

And, sadly, one cannot take a holiday from one’s mind.

I should not eat bananas before bed.

I should not drink four-sugared coffees before bed.

I should not smoke before bed.

I should not let my mind wander before bed.

It goes to places unreturnable and without deposit.


I oscillate between greed and contentment

Between envy and compassion.

Between wishing for the phone to ring and willing silence abounding.


I oscillate between the words in my head and the words being typed.

Between being just like you and just like me.

I have yet to find the balance.

I oscillate between wanting to and not wanting to.

Between strength and weakness.

Between being lost in thought and not thinking at all for days at a time.

I oscillate between wanting to escape and hoping I never end up away.


I oscillate between my fat and my thin.

My happy and my sad.

My loud and my quiet.

My lonely and my companioned.

My sleep and my wakeful.

My love and my hate.

My repetition and my never-to-be-sad-agains.

My intelligence and my stupidity.

I have yet to find the balance.

My biting my nails to the quick and my lack of habits.

My smoking and my clear lungs.

My fear and my solace.

My musty books and my sunny, fresh air.

My running and my walking.

My serenity and my chaos.

My love and my hate.

I oscillate.

the house

someone very dear to me, inexplicably dear to me, said this to me recently.

he said, ‘let it go, the memories are in your head anyway’.

he was right. so right. as flipping always.

true, my heart breaks that soon, very soon, i won’t have a childhood home to run home to. not that I have very often of late. but, it’s the second to last step before i am forced to totally give up living, at least occasionally in my head, as a child.

but, emoness aside, he was right. so i thought i’d write this note and add to it as i can, about the memories that funny crazy messy noisy house holds for me

parties. i cant remember childhood ones. i remember the big and crazy ones we had. where cd players got broken and reputations grew and friendships flourished.
garry under the light with lisa
sarah and tracy reading the books, the start of it all, at 2am
the entrance window
you knocking and leaving notes on my window
room parties
wine on the wall
cupboard graffiti and how it got there
huddled in the garden
laughing laughing laughing
crying crying crying
watching them thatch the cabana. i was three.
christmas eve with the christmas stockings
moms ankle clicking as she walked down the passage
waking up with a cat on my head and my best friends strewn around the room. sometimes in the yard too. hahaa.
the kettle boiling. it was always boiling.
dinner time. the best time of the day. or the worst time of the day
3am tea with my dad
lying in bed and listening to him type all night
the couch in front of the tv
three ‘musics’ emanating from three rooms, worlds and enigmas – the passage cacophony
talking, talking, talking, it was never quiet
cigarette smoke, tea brewing.
mom’s cooking. as interesting as it got some days. (anybody who raises an eyebrow at UFOs knows why)
cuddled on the couch and reading.

I’m crying now. I must stop for today. I miss you very much. But you’re in my head and my heart, not in the house.


11/is having a fuckwow moment. (like i said, if this is what i get for being good, i’m going be to good for a long time).

12/is thinking that she’s going to miss the house
(kudos and thanks to KB for this picture)

13/has got to start categorising. again. dammit.

14/is finished talking in the third person for today, thanks