i was miles away

woundedkite.com, i need to share with you something i wrote in 2003. this was the height of my caws infatuation, in fact the year i met him, and is written with him in mind. it pains me, it breaks my heart that i haven't been able to write anything near as beautiful since. i don't know why i keep banging on about writing. i guess i'm just in this magical, beautiful and historical place which i thought would inspire me, but apart from a few hours in bath, i don't feel any different than i have over the last five years. anyway, here it is...

we never had that exclusivity talk that couples who read cosmo together in bed seem to have. it was all just assumed for us. assumed that he would stay the night. assumed that he would stay the next night. assumed that he would keep on staying the night. and assumed that when the lease ran out at his tiny apartment he was never much seen at, that he would move into my house.

when i was younger, i had come into a substantial amount of money. with it i decided to invest in a house in one of the more trendy suburbs of our city. the plan was to live there until i was established, and while it’s charm and location suited me, and then buy a house somewhere by a beach and use the first house as a rental property. i didn’t care where this beach was, i just wanted to be able to see the ocean from my bedroom window. but we still live in the only house i ever bought. and we used to spend our days on its front porch, sipping coffee and watching the hipsters, and the generations around us get younger and younger.

before i met him, before he moved in, my house was big and empty. much in the same way my life was. we both sat there waiting for someone to paint the walls bright colours and to fill the empty rooms with life and song.

he bought a huge second hand book case and filled it with our combined library. except for the bottom shelf which was dedicated to his neatly organised and meticulously cared for vinyl lp’s. although they were jumbled together, one only needed a quick glance to tell which books were mine and which were his. mine were often the “prescribed text,” the army from my long fought battle with education. my fiction collection featured all the safe options, king, grisham, etc, etc, etc. where as he read poetry from dog-eared paper backs and autobiographies written by people who spend their whole lives dropping acid.

i’m not sure why i spend my time talking of our differences. i think it is because i still have a hard time believing that someone so, i’m trying hard not to use the word “cool.” that someone who was so free would choose to settle down with someone so structured as i was. and still am.

my boy was weird about technology, and the wrath of his scorn usually fell on television. while he hated network tv, and harboured many grudges about reality television, he put up with our set because of the nights we would spend, curled up together, watching old black and white movies.

he loved his computer, but wasn’t too pleased with the monopolistic ideals of bill gates and the microsoft corporation, so he worked at a ruby red apple imac. he was quick to connect to the internet, and he relished the idea that it made our lonely little planet a little smaller with boyish glee. soon he had given up on our biased print media entirely and got his news fix from sources all around the world.

and it took me years to convince him to get a mobile phone so i could always be in contact with him. but when he finally got that nokia in his hands, he was in love with being able to call his oceans of friends whenever and wherever he wanted. but his favourite thing to do was to send me text messages while i was at work, cute little love letters in digital format.

sunday night emo

i need to stop waiting around for something awesome to happen, and go out and create something awesome myself.

i need to pull myself out of the rut i've found myself in over the last few days.

i need to stop worrying about money and live in the now.

i need for one thing to go my way so i can get back on track.

i need to send post cards back home and write more in my paper journal.

as ben lee once said, all i ever wanted was to finish what i started.

i am not good at doing that though. i am much better at walking away before it gets hard.

i wish i was a better person. friendlier, thinner, more will power, less spiteful. i wish i had a better hair cut and more style.

i've come half way around the world, yet i have the same angst i did in sydney. what did i expect though?

this nameless generation

i just stumbled upon the australian war memorial's flickr photostream. it's images like this that make me proud to be australian. that make me proud of the anzac spirit and all our diggers did. in 90 percent of the photos the men are smiling, even though most of them have not doubt been witness to unspeakable horror. things like anzac day aren't about glorifying war. war is a terrible thing that no person should have to go through. but the fact is that so many of our boys did, and without question they stood up, and a lot of them died during the process. but still they did it with a smile on their faces. this is what being an australian is all about. the strength, dignity, humility and courage of the diggers. and all the while with gentle humour and grace. lest we forget.

although i am having the time of my life here, not a day goes by when i don't think about coming back to australia, and how great it will be to see everyone again, and having my mum meet me at the airport, and going for a drive with sooky.

my birthday was good. well except for my body shutting down for the weekend. i had an awful cold and then on top of that i got conjunctivitis. but i still managed to go out and drink and dance and have lots of laughs. to continue with my dramas, yesterday i managed to get a piece of glass stuck in my foot. good times. i don't really want to pay to go to the doctor, so on the advice of my mum i've had it wrapped in some magnaplasm, and soon my housemate charlotte is going to try and dig it out.

speaking of housemates, my wonderful housemate gloria has gone travelling through europe, and then back to the states. we had a tearful goodbye in the rain, and now i miss her heaps. i knew i would make friends here, but i didn't expect to make such good friends, and so quickly. and at least when i left, it wasn't that bad saying goodbye because i knew that i'd see everyone again in a years time, and i'd go back to work with vaness, jimmy james and dave like old times. but once i leave wales, i don't know if i'll ever be back, and it's already making me sad that i'm going to have to leave all these rad people.

oh wow. this is all much more emo than i had anticipated. sorry.

ps: vanessa, i promise i am going to send you a huge email shortly.