D's Days - Diary Entries & Poetry Scraps from 2008

10th November 2008

Barefoot and Bored. I'm on Glebe Point Rd which has some historical import. I sitting here is of no import. I'm meant to be at work, doing the uncreative and unimaginative income-earning tasks I have no sustained interest in doing. One would think that aged 25 you'd know what you want to do in life or at least have a baby to tell you what you can't do in life anymore.
I have neither and the absence is not admitted with any rue or regret.

Is that why this morning, overcast and gray, I flipped a coin to decide my attendance at work: the flip was in Cavour of absence. Unmiffed, I smoked and went back to bed and thought.

I thought I should but I don't and more importantly, I don't care. I am here, writing, smoking and drinking coffee which is in a styrofoam cup: assumptive of the idea that my patronage, my barefoot & rumpled visage, sunglasses shielding inspection were to pass through and not sit at the front scribbling into a notebook.

I was served "Coffee-To-Go" but I didn't want to go.

10th November 2008 #2

Old man after young student amble their way past the table I am seated at. Is it obvious I am not of their world? Groomed, made-up and dressed? I wear the same gray boardshorts I wore swimming yesterday at Manly Beach.

Friday 7th started off innocuously enough. I went to work and was besieged by fits of sneezing so violent, my vision swam & cloud over with sparkles, as it does when hyperventilating. By the end of the workday I had sneezed enough to be worn out by the physical exertion. I also sneezed over a Financial Planner's Audi convertible sportscar when passing through the carpark, my clear snot offending the Audi's leather upholstery. I hope she or he who owns the Audi uses Armor-All because I did leave my caustic splutters all over it.

I came home, sneezed a lot more, took an anti-histamine and drank alcohol. My roommate's friend came over & they punched down cones, and drank more. I contemplated piking (taking a raincheck) on their plan to attend "The Shannon," an Irish Pub where a roomie of Trent's was employed as a chef at and where they were intending to celebrate Trent's roomies' birthday at. We walked to Trent's, passed the time inside for a bit then walked about 150m down the same road back to the Shannon.

The Shannon is a good quality pub; free EFTPOS withdrawals due to no ATM on the premises, cheap drinks and a stylishly refurbished interior that was kept unpretentiously modern yet comfortable at the same time. I took my seat next to the birthday girl, head swaying from the antihistamine, coca-cola & Jack Daniel's combo.

I drank exceptionally fast; six drinks in an hour, able to sway in a limbo state of being both bemused & uneasy with my company. There was a very typical sample of a Sydney-sider girl that represented a type I came across often in the big, bold City of Sydney. In a few verbs; vain, bellicose, attention-hungry and "Hip."

She didn't mind that I stole her seat which was the seat next to the birthday girl's. She seated herself directly opposite to me at the long communal Birthday company table and tried to flirt with me in a manner I found obscene. Her black slip of a dress (you know those tailored abstract scraps of synthetic-looking cloth which barely cover a pair of tits, somewhat miraculously when you think that these tits are covered by a designer scrap of cloth).

This slip slipped lower where the gaps in the scraps easily exposed the inner sides of her thighs. She moved through a series of positions to accentuate & expose varying amounts of her skin: "that had to be practiced," I thought to myself.

Choreographed by using a bedside mirror once she wasn't having any more fun singing into her hairbrush, pretending it was a microphone and was getting tired from jumping on her bed.

She was very blonde, tanned and styled. I purposely shied away from use of "pretty." Eye-Catching? Yes and not "pretty!" Pretty women don't have to schedule blocks of time to go through a process of applying beauty to themselves or paying for the beauty application services to be done by another.

She called me "cute" and "poor thing" in a gratuitous way, quite a sexual way. Eyeing my gaze from behind her lashes with sneaky furtive glances, hungrily crossing and uncrossing her legs like wings then curling and unfurling them slowly like a flag being raised up a pole. Despite my muted sense of eroticism, I still expended great amounts of effort to not concentrate at her barely concealed nether regions.

"Oh, you poor thing!" she exclaimed to my dreaded sneeze. I composed my nose momentarily so I could provide her an explanation in response. "Got a cold, I think," then turned my attention to the others seated around the Birthday company table.

The birthday girl got up so I got up to now steal her seat - rain began dripped from the sky and the cafe umbrellas overhead provided me some cover but not enough to risk more sneezes.

BLISS, BLASPHEMY, BELIEF

27th May 2009

A forbidden joy, contrary meaning you can't have it.
To have it insults the prudish sensibilities of those surrounding the self.

Basic enough, to have this is wrong.
To have it makes you wrong.
It's all wrong, wrong, wrong
Apart from my life.

KEEPING INCOGNITO

11th June 2008

Bland pseudonyms, unpretentious and bewildered.

Prognosis: Musicians from the coast,

Sun is setting in the hinterlands.

Turn on and connect

Tune in to a band that most reject.

Semi-suspicious dalliance to cover up contraband

Sit down into susceptibilities; signed, sealed and delivered.

Three Words

7th October 2008

And when we declared our relationship on Facebook,

the innermost sensibilities of our world shook.

I love you, and these three words were all that it took

to cement the rose-tint over everywhere we could look.

My world shakes
Our world shook

Three Words is all it takes
for us to write together
the most beautiful book.

If your friends watch you go, go back.

I am finding drawing harder these days;

becoming adult,
more calculating,
and less emotive.

13th October 2008

I am writing again, thinking literary thoughts. But to write them out again, and in the same way as thought is a slower process than I remembered it to be. Or maybe I can't write fast enough anymore, being that i'm out of practice and all.

See I don't even remember what I wanted to write about now: being too stoned and muddled. Expression wants now; spoken word & typed text so why so why I am writing it?

And to Continue on...

You know how it goes
no one loves you when you fly
They love you when you fall

Converging in the stall
Lamb to the slaughter.

Nobody knows why
Pick up answers
when becoming a dancer.

Petition to dig a hole
vote to make it bigger
Hole or Petition?
Put all our morals in it.

26

And when I journeyed across interstate
to be
temporarily
with more than just a mate.

I saw out the window from my window seat in the plane
was this insanity, was it fate?

I couldn't know but I'd love to
find out
side i'm honestly gregarious
but inside i'm fighting the tide
on the shore of decisions.

Will my choice make me poor?
Could it settle the right score?

I don't have the mettle to suspect what's in stall
for me as I look outside
the window seat's window

I'm gonna discover
and end this farce of a show
that you could be my lover
all the time I'm pretending

I Never Know.

23rd October 2008

around 11am. I do not go to work after a lot to smoke the night before, with added heavy rains. I woke up with my eyes blurring and still very, very unwithit.

My fingers are slightly cold as I write in the outdoor area of the Divine Monkey Lounge. There are sparrows amongst the other birds that walk across a tin roof, covered in vivid purple jacaranda petals.

Lean towards sin
Release the voice within

30th October 2008

It's 10 to 8am and I'm on an almost empty bus. My iPod froze on the way out so I am fairly pissed at that. Now I can hear the genial chatter of the my fellow bus patrons as well as the bus driver's shortwave radio.