.
In Brisbane...
I'm reading Tropic of Capricorn but won't be getting close enough to it, while I'm here.
I eat sunshine. Gluttonous and ravenous and lustful and in every possible way obscene.
I got a big black box with all of the Sopranos on DVD in it, in a shop, in Brisbane. And you didn't.
I like having old friends. I also like having new friends. I also like old stories with new friends and new stories with old friends. I like making friends who I'll still have when I get old. I like having friends of any sort who don't make me feel old.
I talked with her for a long time and realised I had made no mention of having a girlfriend, either way... now that you mention it. Hey you brought it up.
I swear you did.
I notice the wild life up here. I try not to get noticed by it. We're in confined spaces. Together.
I believe if you say something plainly enough people will read into it. You'll be clever in the attempt. So will they. Everybody wins. Everybody.
I always know I'll end up feeling melancholy and intensely lonely when, and after, visiting art galleries. But intensity of feeling is good.
I took a friend to see the two new Evangelion films. If Star Wars was there in the moral vacuum of 70s cinema, helping kids learn right from wrong then Evangelion was there to prepare me for becoming an adult. That right there is probably the first time I've been able to properly articulate just how important it was to me. So there's no point in saying I prefer the original version, is there?
I don't think it's the big spiders fault that it's a big spider, it doesn't have any choice in the matter except to be... a really big spider. It's not on purpose.
I'm pretty sure it was eating that cockroach on purpose though. I don't know that it was the cockroach's fault it was getting eaten... I suspect it also had very little choice in the matter. No one gets eaten on purpose, unless you start mixing metaphors.
(I am not mixing metaphors).
I missed my tour buddy.
I sent him a text message about the strangely empty seat on the plane next to me. He thought I was trying to write his eulogy, prematurely. He may have had a point because it wasn't the first time.
I made witty statements like "she wouldn't have noticed if the audience wasn't there" I avoid what I would call mechanical details about how I come about these astute observations, and pretend to have thought that up, just then.
I fool... myself.
I know why they call it Bris-vegas.
I am watching 'The Mysterious Cities of Gold" while stating at my friends house. I have the biggest crush on Mendoza. This is not the first time I've had sexual feelings for a cartoon character.
I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable (actually, I'm lying).
I rather like making you uncomfortable.
I make pessimistic self-fulfilling prophecies. I find their inevitable eventuality... fulfilling.
I arrived with with a thirst for conversation, and a lack of self esteem so dense you'd lose a shoe in it.
I clung to them with a pathetically twenty-first century desperation as obvious as a television accent, as wide as the Asian continent, as long as a year in the same pack-straps, and as thick as the Lonely Planet guides for India, Australia and Turkey and Spain, all rolled into one. The kind of desperation you can smell in overly rehearsed casual anecdotal stories about what I've doing in Brisbane. No one wants polish, they want person.
I have nothing in stock to give them. They flee from me like cockroaches from under a suddenly up-ended bin.
I was with cockroaches earlier in the day, for real. We were close, it was quiet, dark and peaceful, my left elbow was aching into numbness, I was wet and dirty, and light by a borrowed torch.
It was beautiful.
I'm not nearly good enough to articulate it. So...
I took photographs instead.
In Brisbane...
I'm reading Tropic of Capricorn but won't be getting close enough to it, while I'm here.
I eat sunshine. Gluttonous and ravenous and lustful and in every possible way obscene.
I got a big black box with all of the Sopranos on DVD in it, in a shop, in Brisbane. And you didn't.
I like having old friends. I also like having new friends. I also like old stories with new friends and new stories with old friends. I like making friends who I'll still have when I get old. I like having friends of any sort who don't make me feel old.
I talked with her for a long time and realised I had made no mention of having a girlfriend, either way... now that you mention it. Hey you brought it up.
I swear you did.
I notice the wild life up here. I try not to get noticed by it. We're in confined spaces. Together.
I believe if you say something plainly enough people will read into it. You'll be clever in the attempt. So will they. Everybody wins. Everybody.
I always know I'll end up feeling melancholy and intensely lonely when, and after, visiting art galleries. But intensity of feeling is good.
I took a friend to see the two new Evangelion films. If Star Wars was there in the moral vacuum of 70s cinema, helping kids learn right from wrong then Evangelion was there to prepare me for becoming an adult. That right there is probably the first time I've been able to properly articulate just how important it was to me. So there's no point in saying I prefer the original version, is there?
I don't think it's the big spiders fault that it's a big spider, it doesn't have any choice in the matter except to be... a really big spider. It's not on purpose.
I'm pretty sure it was eating that cockroach on purpose though. I don't know that it was the cockroach's fault it was getting eaten... I suspect it also had very little choice in the matter. No one gets eaten on purpose, unless you start mixing metaphors.
(I am not mixing metaphors).
I missed my tour buddy.
I sent him a text message about the strangely empty seat on the plane next to me. He thought I was trying to write his eulogy, prematurely. He may have had a point because it wasn't the first time.
I made witty statements like "she wouldn't have noticed if the audience wasn't there" I avoid what I would call mechanical details about how I come about these astute observations, and pretend to have thought that up, just then.
I fool... myself.
I know why they call it Bris-vegas.
I am watching 'The Mysterious Cities of Gold" while stating at my friends house. I have the biggest crush on Mendoza. This is not the first time I've had sexual feelings for a cartoon character.
I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable (actually, I'm lying).
I rather like making you uncomfortable.
I make pessimistic self-fulfilling prophecies. I find their inevitable eventuality... fulfilling.
I arrived with with a thirst for conversation, and a lack of self esteem so dense you'd lose a shoe in it.
I clung to them with a pathetically twenty-first century desperation as obvious as a television accent, as wide as the Asian continent, as long as a year in the same pack-straps, and as thick as the Lonely Planet guides for India, Australia and Turkey and Spain, all rolled into one. The kind of desperation you can smell in overly rehearsed casual anecdotal stories about what I've doing in Brisbane. No one wants polish, they want person.
I have nothing in stock to give them. They flee from me like cockroaches from under a suddenly up-ended bin.
I was with cockroaches earlier in the day, for real. We were close, it was quiet, dark and peaceful, my left elbow was aching into numbness, I was wet and dirty, and light by a borrowed torch.
It was beautiful.
I'm not nearly good enough to articulate it. So...
I took photographs instead.
I was in Brisbane, the whole time.
_______________________________________________
Well, back in town for the launch of Eleanor Jackson's Melbourne Map, an awesome new poetry project, on Thursday 16th, at Loop Bar. (23 Meyers Place -in the CBD)
check it out:
http://www.melbournepoetrymap.com/
should be good. Hope to see you there. (Yes you)
-Peace
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