i have left this journal, and i have no intention of returning. if you wish to follow the continuingly madcap adventures of myself, please go to glasdraad with open minds. thank you, and farewell.

draw a line in the sand, man, take a stand - withhold sex from that flirt-and-tease, that bloomington wench1! - advice given by phone last night. a phone conversation, finally, and my blues are over, and i laughed like i hadn't for a long, long time.

...and then she was tired of talk again, tired of its uselessness. it had never been any more than it was now: whispers aganst the great roar of the world, half heard and less understood.

... my brother was supposed to move in with me this past week, moving down from emerald to brisbane, and we were going to be sharing my room, and eventually we would have been moving out of this fucking hostel, and living together - but two days before he was to arrive, having moved out of his house and everything, he got a job offer that was too ( Read more... )

he came to realise that no one was watching him, no one was listening. the tiny imaginary audience inside his head did not exist; no one watches our life movies.

and so the politics of livejournal have begun, here; the deletion propelled by exhaustion, with living, and my apology, to those who i may have slighted. do not hate me.

a disconnected phone and i feel lost, alone. my friends are across oceans, and now unreachable, foreign. and so i don't eat, and i don't sleep, and i don't do much at all, really.

johnny cash is in my ear, one as an anthem to my misery and my cold hands - it's fucking summer, skin burning on exposure, and i am cold because of our fear of the weather, our bodies conditioned to comfort - and i am clean shaven, a promise made, and paid.

glasdraad is where i am most honest, and most desperate. if you are interested, if you care, please, follow me.

run ragged and exhausted through devotion and travel, i crashed, sleeping fourteen hours after being wide-wake help-me for the past two days. i woke in absolute disbelief and disorientation - the clock swearing that it was 4pm, the overcast and drizzling sky in agreement, and myself thinking oh, fuck off.