Myriad

Interpretation is a funny thing.

Intention versus perception.

Take this blog thingy. It's written mostly from the first person perspective (i.e. mine). The tales found within are taken mostly from real life (mostly).

And when I write them down I'm usually clear on my intent and meaning (in my head anyways). The purpose of the piece, if you will.

The only problem is, you ain't me.

Which means that what you read will be understood differently to what the cunt next to you read.

You bring with you all your preformed conceptions about the universe and your place in it, which renders any objective understanding of any one piece terribly difficult.

Chances are if I know you, if we've ever met or crossed paths, then you will most likely end in up in here. Somewhere.

I don't write for vengance or spite. I don't write to get back at anyone.

I write for me.

I write to create and help me deal with my own shit. It's an outlet. A safety valve almost.

So if I let off some steam and you get burnt, tough. Deal.

I'm not here to protect you and I don't print lies. If you can't face the truth of your own, or mine, or someone else's actions well then perhaps you should stop next time before you do whatever you're upset over.

That said, I'm not out to hurt or "get" anyone. That is the last thing I'm looking to do here. Like I said - vent, create.

If I've upset you let me know. I will probably change or delete my stuff to keep you happy (there is a precedent for this). Because, honestly, I'd rather lose all the fucking shitty blogs from now until the end of time then lose you as a friend. Any of you. All of you.

I've never (that I can remember) written anything here in malice.

Thoughtlessness? Perhaps. But never malice.

Gratitude.

Grateful is what I am to you.

Thankful for the place you gave me.

Thank you for the time you wasted on keeping me occupied.

I could never repay you
No matter how I tried.

You showed me around your city
You gave me beer and food
You'll never know how grateful I am to you.

This was never your obligation
I don't know where else I would have gone
Don't know if my dreams would have all come true.

"every addiction is just a way to treat the same problem.

drugs or overeating or alcohol or sex it is all just another way to find peace.

to escape what we know.

our education.

our bite of the apple"

- Choke

Chuck Palahniuk

Through the tears all I can see is the hole that sits inside me.

I'd say that there's a hole in my soul if actually believed I had one.

Things are no longer as high as they were just a day or two ago.

Everything in my brain is messy and I can't shake this depressing feeling that makes me wanna break down in tears everytime I see a plastic bag floating in the wind.

My brain is struggling to correct the chemical imbalance I visited upon it this weekend just past. Struggling.

Deep breaths.

Regrets and actions, recent and ancient, come back as if to say "Look what you have done. You must make amends."

I remember a time, not too long ago. When I was in love with the universe and everything in it.

I was told by a dear, dear friend that in some circles it's laughingly described as "top yourself tuesday." Very funny indeed.

Luckily I'm nowhere near that dismal or desperate. And I fully understand why I feel this way. But jesusfuckingarserapingchrist, it aint a lot of fun.

I spoke to a friend today and there was nothing I could do to hold back the tears. No blame. Just tears. They had a source, this much is true. But they were dragged out under duress.

This time is not like the last time. The next time will be different yet again. I am neither a lizard king nor doctor of journalism. I am a speck. Fighting to keep my head on straight and my knees in the upright and locked position.

There's a ball lodged in my throat and I feel abandoned by everyone who ever pretended to care. All the ones who put on those loving deceitful faces and told those twisted lies. Led me down the garden path. Was I led or was I dragged? Was I complicit in my own demise?

No way! Fuck you! Fuck all of you! All you fuckers that made me feel anything. Everything. You're to blame for all my sorrow. Evil does not begin to describe your crime. You are the worst kind of garbage.

Shudder at myself. I feel bent. Buckled.

Ride the fear and you'll do fine. Just ride it out.

And I hope I can love you again tomorrow or someday.

"And I will risk my neck again, again"

For everything. Truly.

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Four seasons in one day
Lying in the depths of your imagination
Worlds above and worlds below
The sun shines on the black clouds hanging over the domain

Even when youre feeling warm
The temperature could drop away
Like four seasons in one day

Smiling as the shit comes down
You can tell a man from what he has to say
Everything gets turned around
And I will risk my neck again, again

You can take me where you will
Up the creek and through the mill
Like all the things you cant explain
Four seasons in one day

Blood dries up
Like rain, like rain
Fills my cup
Like four seasons in one day

It doesnt pay to make predictions
Sleeping on an unmade bed
Finding out wherever there is comfort there is pain
Only one step away
Like four seasons in one day

Blood dries up
Like rain, like rain
Fills my cup
Like four seasons in one day



Upon my return, I heard this song. It touched a nerve in me that I can't even begin to describe. Pain. Joy. Sorrow. Warmth.

"Four seasons in one day"

Emotionally speaking I've really run the gamut this last couple of weeks.

Although even on the bottom end of that emotional scale I still found myself in more bliss than I could bare.

"I will risk my neck again, again"

It initially seemed like a gamble. Go and meet some people. Internet people.

The questions, the hesitation. "Will they like me?", "Will I like them?", "What if they're a bunch of real cunts?".

Luckily for me they were a bunch of cunts and we got on famously. Like old friends coming together after years apart.

"Smiling as the shit comes down, You can tell a man from what he has to say"

I feel like I've been smiling for days on end. It's been a real blast. I know I've said it before and perhaps you're sick of hearing it but, thank you. Each and every one of you.

"Even when you're feeling warm, the temperature could drop away"

Leaving them is hard. It's kinda like breaking up with someone who you still really care about. You know you should go, but every instinct is telling you to stay and hold on.

"It doesn't pay to make predictions"

There's no telling what the future holds for my new friends and I. Will we ever meet again? I fucking hope so. I can't imagine my life without them now. But even if we don't, at least we'll always have Paris (or in this case, Brisbane).

"Finding out where there is comfort there is pain"

Happy. That's what I am right now. Even through the tears. And thankful too.

"Fills my cup"

And my heart.


"Like four seasons in one day"

I did NOT write the following. It's stolen. From who or from where I dont' know. Just read it and remember. (And try to ignore how emo it is. Fuck sometimes I make myself sick)


Tell her you think she's cool ...

Tell her why you think she's so cool.

Smell her hair.
Take her to shows of bands she's never heard of.

Hold her hand in the pit.

Talk to her in movie theatres.

Pick her up and pretend youre going to throw her in the river;she'll scream and fight you but secretly, she'll love it.

Hold her hand and skip.

Hold her hand and run.

Just hold her hand.

Pick flowers from other peoples gardens and give them to her.

Tell her she's pretty.

Let her pay if she wants to.

Introduce her to your friends as "the coolest girl you know".

Sit in the park and talk to her.

Just talk to her.

Take her to the library.

Take her anywhere.

Tell her dirty jokes.

Tell her happy stories.

Tell her sad stories.

Tell her your stories.

Tell her anything.

Tell her stupid jokes.

Write poems about her.

Just walk with her.

Throw pebbles at her window.

When she starts swearing at you ... tell her you love her.

Let her fall asleep in your arms.

Call her.

Call her back if she calls you.

Sing to her ...no matter how bad you are.

Carve your names into a tree.

Get her mad, then kiss her.

Give her piggy - back rides.

Go see her band play even if they really suck,and tell her they were great.

Give her space if she needs it.

Push her on swings.

Stay up with her all night when she's sick.

Make up pet names for her, but cool ones ... not sappy ones.

Teach her guitar.

Lend her your cds.

Write on her.

Write about her.

Make her mixtapes.

Write her letters.

Take her to cool shops ...and let her take you to even cooler ones.

Just hang out with her.

Listen to all the bands she mentions.

Don’t tell her that her favorite bands suck.

When shes sad ... hang out with her

or

Stay on the phone with her ...even if shes not saying anything.

Buy her ice cream.

Let her take all the photos of you she wants.

Look into her eyes.

Slow dance with her...even if the music is fast.

Tell her a secret.

Kiss her in the rain ...

kiss her hand ...

kiss her neck ...

kiss her forehead ...

kiss her nose ...

Just kiss her.

Hug her.

Trust her.

Love her.

Be yourself around her.

Cherish her...

and when you fall in love with her

...tell her.

This is the last thing I ever expected to happen.

I was planning on a party. A getaway. A break. A vacation.

I wasn't expecting this kind of emotional mindfuck.

I wasn't expecting to fall so hard, so quickly.

Is this how addicts feel the first time? Drawn, compelled, overwhelmed.

This was just supposed to be a holiday. Just like all the other holidays I've ever taken. Relax a little. Maybe swim. Drink. Eat. Sleep. No stress. No Drama. No complications. No chance.

My mellow hiatus was not to be.

I don't remember how we met exactly. There was 36 hour drug binge and when I came to she was there.

And she was close.

And even though I couldn't remember all the details I knew why she was there. She was there for me.

She was mine and I was hers.

The question was, who was she?

As I stared down at her face I started to cry. No trinkle of tears mind, but rather a torrent. Was this pain? Joy? Who could tell?

She was Maria. And I loved her.

Body and soul.

I remember her first words to me as she awoke, "Don't leave".


So I didn't.

I need your love.

I need you to lift me out of the ashes I find myself in.

I need you to give me just some small semblance of hope, of joy, of not pain, of not sorrow.

You are the imaginary friend that keeps me breathing.


In this life the possibilities are endless.


It is possible I may meet her someday.
It's possible that she may even exist.
It's possible that this is as good as it gets.

Every action has an equal but opposite reaction.
Every joy has its sadness.
Every meeting has its goodbye.

I've just had a goodbye.
At this very moment I'm feeling quite sad.

It's come on gradually. It's been 2 hours since my goodbye and the emotion has been building.
It's like breaking up with someone. Like saying goodbye to old friends. Old friends who I met for the first time three days ago.

Fuck it's been a good weekend. Exceptionally so. Expectations were met and surpassed.


Big red is the bomb. If she didn't have a boyfriend I would rape her to within an inch of her life. Wonderful human being, pity she has poor taste in men. Heart her.


Her man. Fucktard. The Frodo Baggins of comedy. Never a backward step, never a wayward thought. If I thought he could survive it I'd rape him too. Heart him also.


And finally. Slutbucket. She is an amazing woman. She is without a doubt the most awesome, coolest person I have met in a long time. Possibly ever. She is the one from whom I would require permission before raping. I bow before her. She may have thought I was joking, but I meant every word.


I feel like the little kid you see yelling and crying as he's getting pulled out of the toystore by his mother.

Can't I stay just a little longer.

Or maybe forever.

So it's 20 minutes to midnight and I'm walking the streets of Brisbane with a smile on my face the size of my head.
Truth be told, I'd fallen in love. And the beautiful thing is it was with more than one person.
Sure we were all on drugs but, as a great man once said, "Drugs have done good things for us."
I have just spent 24 hours in the company of these people and now all I can do is smile and be grateful.
I just want to grab someone and tell them, let someone know why and how and when. But the streets are dead and empty. It's the calm serenity of a Sunday night in Brisbane. There aren't even any cabs on the streets.

Just me and my joy.

I love you.

Really. I do.

But I'm also on drugs, so I'm not sure what that means exactly.
Ecstasy is quite potent.

It's been over 36 hours since I swallowed those two little pills and I'm still feeling the effects.
But the important thing is, I love you. All three of you. Even number four. The disappointment.
All of you. Deep, chemical, passionate love. I'd rape each one of you from now until eternity if I could.

I'd do anything you asked me and more just to make you happy. Each one of you exceeded each one of my expectations by a measure or more.

The three. You brave three. Love, Joy, Happiness.

Words fail and the mind can't comprehend the magnitude of the occasion.
After so long and so many promises, the sense of relief is overwhelming.

The smile on my face has been locked in for over 24 hours.

Thanks to you.

Thanks to us.

Even without the narcotics my feelings would be the same. Are the same. You are, each and everyone, awesome.

Excellent human beings, every one. And I thank you.

I'd not done ecstasy before and doing it with you made it an unforgettable experience.
Sitting here now, alone, all I wanna do is hold you and kiss you and lick you all over.

Sober or not, I still heart you.