a poem… begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness…. it finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
a poem… begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness…. it finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
you know how chicks are frequently complaining about being harassed every time they go out into the light of day, i.e. whistling, catcalls, obscene proposals yelled across the street, etc? I always thought they were exaggerrating because it only happens to me every now and then, i.e. in the city at night or when I happen to cross a complete and utter drongo, etc. well today, it being atrociously hot, I wore an above-the-knee skirt. in the ten minute walk to Coles and back I was traumatised enough to ensure i’ll never even conSIder wearing a short skirt ever again.
this is wrong. I shouldn’t have to change my behaviour to avoid being harrassed by utter douchebags.
also wrong is that there is a lunar eclipse visible everywhere except Australia. >:|
i’m absolutely exhausted. I actually fell asleep in my stats lab. I woke up to the tutor standing over me ferociously clearing his throat while everyone giggled. but it’s okay ’cause someone said I was cute.
I remember a lot of random crap whilst trying to sleep. since the sleep part hasn’t been working, I thought i’d share one of these long forgotten memories, since it’s a really quite surprising one. it came out of nowhere tonight; i’d forgotten all about it. probably blocked it, since it involves my schizophrenic ex-husband. it was actually the first sign I noticed that he was slowly going insane.
well, it took place in South Dakota, right after he’d been smashed to a quivering pulp and right before we relocated to Minnesota. a friend of ours came over, a ragamuffin safety-pin’d punk named Jeremy, and he brought a friend of his; I can’t remember his name as this was the first and last time I ever met him. it was early morning and everyone was drunk and/or high. we’d burned a pizza to a shrivelled black piece of cardboard which x still ate. we also, at some point, walked down to the McDonald’s and through the drivethrough, since the restaurant itself was closed.
so. x was in one corner talking with Jeremy and I was in another, humouring the new boy. suddenly x jumped up, enraged, dragged newboy away from me and started waling on him while shouting over&over something I can’t really remember. I know it was that he thought newboy was hitting on me, though. anyway newboy was terrified and cowering, flailing his arms about in an attempt to defend himself, obviously had no idea what was going on. I jumped up and grabbed x’s arm, telling him to stop, and newboy took this opportunity to scramble towards the door. x shoved me aside and took off after him, catching him just at the door and punching him several times in the head. I felt simply awful for poor newboy and absolutely baffled, nothing like this had ever happened before. anyway I leapt forward and again grabbed x, and again newboy got away.. promptly sprinting down the hall. x turned around, and, quite shockingly, violently kicked me, in the stomach, away from him.
Jeremy, during all this, had been sitting in the same corner, simply watching. at this, he shouted “whoa, man,” jumped up and ran over. I was sitting where i’d fallen, x had run out after newboy. Jeremy went to help me up but I shook my head; he asked if I was okay, then took off after x. I stayed where I was and actually fell asleep there. when x and Jeremy came back, I learned that x had caught up with newboy and resumed beating him. when Jeremy arrived, newboy cried out to him for help. I can’t remember what happened, but i’ve the feeling Jeremy had helped x, instead.
an hour or two later two police officers arrived. I was very amused to realise one of them was the cop who’d questioned me the night x was beaten. he questioned me again, I remember telling him what had happened. he asked me about the baton, to which my exact reply was, “I hadn’t realised there was one involved.” I think it amazing I remember that so clearly. anyway they took newboy’s backpack and left.
they returned the next day, saying newboy was missing some things from his backpack, and could they search the apartment. we had pot hidden under the mattress! so, so they wouldn’t look under it, I sat on it and hoped they wouldn’t ask me to move. they didn’t. they did, however, find a bag of seeds we’d forgotten all about, and a syringe. x denied knowledge of both of these, and in fact implicated newboy. he didn’t just say newboy brought and forgot these items, though. he actually accused newboy of planting them in an attempt to frame us. what stupidity. I wonder at what point newboy was supposed to have done this; when we were all amicably chatting or when he was fighting to defend his life?
in any case, they just confiscated them and let us off. they found newboy’s missing mini-baseball bat, which x had stolen from the backpack between returning from bashing newboy and the police coming up the first time. they didn’t, however, find a flowered porcelain jewelrybox which newboy had also claimed missing, which x had not stolen and no one remembered ever seeing at all.
a couple days later we left. the whole incident hadn’t really upset me, although I remember thinking it rather odd that x spent the next day or so mad at me, for hindering him, and that he thought his actions, down to booting me in the gut across the room, completely rational.
i’m planning on staying up all night even though I have uni in the morning. well, because I have uni in the morning. that way I won’t be tempted to go to sleep when the sun comes up.
WOW, HAS TODAY EVER BEEN A whirlwindy rollercoaster of an event. I just got home from a midnight walk which started out manic and ended up in tears dragging myself on my hot-coal’d belly in the freezing, pouring rain with disgusted villagers pelting me with rotten fruit and boulders and lightning striking me every seven seconds while being bitten by poisonous snakespiders, rabid bats and zombie dobermans. here’s what I notebook-wrote, half whilst walking (barely legible):
I am passionately in love with my midnight-streetlight shadow.
she is the most gorgeous of semi-opaque greynesses,
a shifty, lengthening wraith-muse, perfect in every featureless contour.
nothing but a wafting mass of gorgon hair, shoulders exaggerated weapon-like, ever elongating elegant limbs of sinuous grace
and my big, fat bag, which may as well be an amorphous tumour attached to my side; my semi-absorbed womb sister.
at silhouette everyone is their best.
silent, transparent, completely disconnected. but forever earthbound in the most extreme, chained – probably resentful, seething with forever inexpressible…
inevitably, when walking home late at night, I stop at the 24hour cafe on Old Cleveland. usually the night is just too lovelie, absolutely joyous and i’ve no desire to arrive home to the TV, computer, refrigerator and anything else that hums in a deceptively friendly way. a home filled with appliances is a reminder that life is real, whereas the walk home, even though it involves actually being out in the world, is more a dream that feels it will forever be lazily promenading along with no end destination/future. it’s inarguably full of romance and inspiration, despite the efforts of the weary commuters rushing by, one per shiny little metal boxonwheels, eager! for their own TVs and microwaved meal-for-ones.
so i’m sitting in dimly-lit atmosphere with my cappuccino (bad! even with the benefit of 20sweetners), personal music for my-ears-only and ratty notebook, looking around at my fellow patrons similarly, inexplicably, treating their insomnia with caffeine–
what sort of person cafes at 1am? I have a very distinct schema of such a person… bearing a remarkable resemblance (those two words just fit so well together) to myself. and while there is quite a crowd here, eight people, besides me (and besides the two police officers, who fit 24hour establishments so perfectly they barely exist), every one of them blatantly violates this schema.
where, where! are the people I could possibly relate to in this world? where is anyone similar in any way to myself at this moment? now is the moment. right now! that popular fiction, obscure literature and b-grade bollywood productions have forever led me to believe that my most perfected, destined friend is to gravitate towards me after two simultaneous lifetimes of aloneness and probably dozens of near-misses.
i’m not lonely. I just feel so separate, indistinct. I need something to tell me that i’m not not supposed to be here – an aberration who looks at the world like it’s a foreign object. a foreign object to life.
well it doesn’t matter. the girl behind the counter informed me this place is closing down.
Thursdays I usually enjoy – it’s the day I meet with my interpersonal group, and I just love them.
Emma: quite overweight with the expected accompanying personality – self-conscious, esteemless, great sense of humour most often used to put herself down. very friendly to absolutely everyone.
Kate: mousy, about that size, with a personality so much bigger it overflows wherever she goes. has an anecdote for everything, talks about herself, her friends, her partner, constantly. confident and rather blunt.
Shun: International student from Tokyo. doesn’t speak unless directly asked a question, but i’ve seen his humour.
Carter: the awkward boy whom I definitely, genuinely like. surprises me every now and then, such as by making little comments I don’t understand. is opinionated, left-of-centre. has mentioned in some way, every time i’ve seen him, how little money he has.
today’s meeting was on interaction management, including emotions. everyone had told of some previous interaction in which they experienced a strong emotive reaction, and when it came to my turn I still hadn’t thought of one, so I demurred. Carter’s response: “well, we’ve all noticed you experience no emotion.”
if I experienced emotion I would’ve felt like bursting into tears at that moment.
goshie. finally getting around to all these things i’ve been meaning to do for ages but had to do uni stuff instead.
like a crosstitch. seriously. I got an A+ in embroidery.
i’ve so many plans for when i’ve more free time!
well today, after checking my woefully empty po box, I nearly walked right by a sign reading “wanted: models”
I just can’t resist those, especially when they’re out the front of academy salons.
so apparently they don’t get many volunteers, because three girls fought over the right to my hair. particularly when I said I didn’t care what they did to it. of course they were limited, it’s so damaged from already having had “I don’t care” done to it over and over for the past X years. but now it’s permanently curled.
and, I don’t mind swearing, it will never happen again. boy, is perming ever a painful process that takes over 3hours. give me dye and razors any day.
afterwards I ate nachos and read science fiction on the sidewalk. I heart nachos and science fiction and sidewalks. although I don’t often admit the science fiction thing. sh.
just recalled that I woke at around 4am from a very violent dream; I remember rolling over thinking “how awful” at the recollection of looking down at a rather bloody scene.. ah but I can’t remember. only three people restrained, mouths open in agonised howls I couldn’t hear, eyes red, pouring holes.
OMG I SO SHOULD’VE CALLED FELON “RATBAG”
essay: all i’ve got to go is the introduction (undoubtedly the worst part) and the abstract. it wasn’t that difficult after finding an appropriate theory. I like it. even though she’ll only give me a credit ’cause she sucks. I always feel so great when i’ve finished an essay like it’s a work of blazing brilliance and then I only get a CREDIT.
shhhhhhhhhhh. it only happened once.
i’ll post it tomorrow. after 5pm. ’cause I know people from uni read this and they’ll steal my blazingly brilliant ideas.
i’m having funn on the course discussion forums: the night before an assignment’s due everyone posts madly asking for help. i’ve been making fun of them and pretending I finished mine first week of semester or something.
have you noticed a marked change in my personality over the past two weeks? yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn.
OH YEAH! I met my grandparents out southbank today and while getting them drinks at the ice creamery (the completely unfamiliar boy who served me was apparently in my personality course and tried unsuccessfully to make conversation while mixing my milkshakes) I turned around with my arms full of cups and bottles and wallets and two adorable Japanese girls stopped me and flailed their camera about with quarter-moon grins, so they each got a picture with me. haha Wayne said it’s ’cause i’m magnificent. MAGNIFICENT.
*slightly mad from overload*
BEST CRANK CALL EVAR in my messagebank today:
oh, um.. I was looking for Jason from the gay club, yeah I met him last night, such a sexy big hunk of spunk. yeah, I wanna do it with him all night long, owwww! oh, yeah, oh, oh, I can smell my.. *unintelligible garble and moans for approximately 30 seconds*
seeya baby, yeah seeya at the gay club, seeya at the gay club baby, OH
i’ve saved it. shall I press 22 and callback?
10am: the only time I use a thesaurus is when writing essays, ’cause I spend a paragraph talking about the same thing but don’t want to repeat the word over & over. so while looking up anxiety, found omg: screaming meemies
they must be cousins to heebie jeebies.
12pm: k i’m stupid. went to class when there was no class again. someone even reminded me last week. I think this is the fourth time this semester.
2pm: tuna sandwich yay. i’m listening to Enya ’cause I can’t dance/sing-in-my-head along so can’t get distracted by it so it’s good writing/studying music. Dead Can Dance and Cocteau Twins are the same.
3pm: I stare out the window when trying to formulate sentences and atm there is a mudlark hopping around the backyard EATING BEES.
4pm: Christopher Reeve is dead.
[there was a political comment here but I was horribly ignorant and parroting things I’d heard without researching them for myself. I apologise to myself.]
there is a DVD JAMMED IN THE PLAYER. it’s behind the tray so it can’t even close. arrrrrrrr.
well. at least it’s not a rental DVD.
k I had to take the player apart ’cause i’m a technical genius and have screwdrivers AND A HAMMER. AND NAILS. I bought them the other day.
for the next week or so i’ll be doing nothing more than working on two essays. I spent all day researching one.. and am having trouble. tsk. it’s the same professor I had so much trouble with last semester and only got a credit.
round-toed shoes are back in fashion, hurrah! however so far they’ve only reached flats, which make my feet look absurdly (read: slightly) long. plea to Ana-Onne, goddess of fashion: high heeled round-toed shoes soon, please.
Felon’s cute quirks:
I can’t wait for this election to be over. election campaigns are worse than pepsi commercials. but? I plan to vote. I never actually have as a form of PASSIVE PROTEST. well I just put in an empty ballot… to avoid the fine.
haha. i am so political.
what one does is only one
of several things she might have done.
one must know the things rejected
to appreciate the one selected.
got this today:
is your name jessica meek? because my name is jessica meek too. i just did a google search for my name and it took me to your blog. i don’t know if i’m ready to share my name with you. i’ll have to think about it.
um, k! let me know what you’ll be changing your name to.
oh &. also several suggestions for that elusive c-word mixture of placating & patronising. aw thanks. but i’ve accepted by now that it doesn’t exist.
unless it was placating or patronising and I just got caught up in it beginning with C. which is entirely possible.