Sleepwalking my way through life: November 2006



C'est la vie

Tuesday, November 28, 2006
“Ha! And you called yourself innocent!”

She looked at me incredulously. “Excuse me? You’re not so innocent yourself young man.”

“Of course not,” I smiled, “I’m seedy.”

I kissed her.

“I’m insidious.”

I kissed her again.

“I’m ominous.”

Kiss.

“I’m odious.”

Kiss.

“And you’re a thesaurus?”

What are you waiting for?

The rain thunders down onto the dark road, bouncing up in flashes of yellow and white before turning into black. I walked patiently down the path, feeling the rain drum rhythmically on my head as it hissed on the ground, accompanying the solid beat of my feet. It washed over my face, running over my water logged clothes and landing in smaller drops on the pavement.

Drink up baby doll.

I breathe in the liquid air and swallow the pure refreshment. A smile creeps on my face and I slip my bag from my shoulder, gripping it tightly in my hand. My knuckles are blazing white and my fingers scream a cold numbness as they wrap around my drenched bag. Everything is so wet.

Are you in, or are you out?

I suddenly break into a run, my feet slamming into the ground and sending sparks of water from the puddles. I run faster, feeling the rain hammer into my face while the wind whips at my skin. I run faster still, swinging my arms and bag in time with my long strides. My trousers cling to my legs and my shirt is one with my soaking skin, my hair flat against my head.

Excuse me? Too busy writing your tragedies?

Cars roar by me, their blazing lights dancing over me for moments before carrying along their way. My shadow runs circles around me as I try to control my breath, willing my legs to go faster and faster. I can feel the cold seeping into my shoes as I race through another puddle; throwing a cascade of water into the air.

Let go.

I run faster.

Just let go.

I turn off the road, leaping over another puddle and landing with a twisted thud. My ankle was wrong, but I kept running. I steered my thoughts away from the pain and increased my speed, faster faster faster. My shadow passed under me, surrounded by flashes of yellow streetlight as I pounded my way below their gaze.

Jump in.

My ankle fell to the side and I twisted, falling down to the dark below. I skidded to a stop on the flooded ground, wheezing and keeping my head up in an attempt not to drown. I shakily pushed myself up on to my hands and knees, every ounce of me aching and dripping with cold rain, and threw up. I emptied myself onto the street and stood up, using a nearby lamppost to support myself.

There’s beauty in the breakdown.

I was shaking, I ached all over, I felt sick, and a trickle of blood was being washed away from a cut in my hand. It was as if I was coming down – having withdrawal symptoms from some wonderful drug. It hurt to breathe, every gasp feeling as though it would burst my lungs. But I smiled.

Let go.

The sickness was already being washed away, being carried down a drain where it was lost forever. I wiped my mouth and smiled. I am alive, my screaming pain can testify to that, and I am happy. My bag was drenched like I was, and I picked it up with my frozen hands and limped the rest of the way home.

It’s so amazing here.

I was almost sure I would take off this time.

Not a good day.

Monday, November 27, 2006
I've slept in, I cannot find a pen anywhere, and my straighteners exploded a few inches in front of my face.

I think I may cry.

Did I mention irrationial?

Friday, November 24, 2006
Ten minutes ago I would've written all about the bashing I received in Sociology, how apparently I am part of a gender that are not much more than an unfeeling, childish, violent bastards.

But right now I am having too much fun pretending that a friend's crush is actually gay, with his permission of course.

Ah. Life is very good.

And...

Thursday, November 23, 2006
Happy Birthday Jules.

Sneak peak

Tuesday, November 21, 2006
When I was younger my parents would take me to the coast to see the ocean and relax on the beaches, but I was never interested in swimming or sunbathing. The first chance I had, I would run off to the jagged cliff edges, jumping over rock pools and sliding down little slopes of scree in eagerness as I reached the looming precipice. My arms would stretch and pull, carrying myself higher and higher up the face. I’d
leap from ledge to ledge or make a risky grab and feel my heart pound with exhilarating intensity. There was a small part of me that knew that I could fall at any moment, that I could plummet down the cliff and lose myself forever.

When I reached the top I would stop and admire the scenery. The world was stretched out below me; my parents lying together on the beach, younger children making sand castles in the sand, and the sea gently lapping at the shore. The sun shone on my face and the breeze cooled my sweaty brow as I lorded over the land at my feet.

But when I had taken in the scenery enough, after I had beamed at everything under my gaze, I would move closer to the edge of the cliff. I would stand on the fringe of my throne, the tips of my shoes hanging over the edge, and I would look over. The land fell away far down into oblivion, into black shadow that hid from the shine of the sun. I would lean over, dangling over nothing as I gazed into the dark. The wind blew and I teetered for a gut wrenching moment before I regained my balance and stepping back breathless, my heart thudding harder than at any point during the climb.

And now, as Edward took the finger of that man and pulled it back with a sickening crunch, I looked over the edge and gazed with wonder at the blackness that I saw.

Jack lives here

Sunday, November 19, 2006
I would like to add something to my list of geekiness;

Jumping up and own for joy when receiving three advanced volumes of your favourite Manga.

My Dad is over from Singapore this weekend, and we’ve spent the time eating, drinking, eating, drinking, watching James Bond, eating, amazing texting (Rawr), and just so much drinking. For the past two nights I have sat in the bar after closing time with Chris and his friends, drinking down some Jack and laughing at pointless stories of who-wants-to-sleep-with-who.

Also also also I am very drunk right now. Very.

I thank Microsoft for keeping me in track with their Godly spellcheck. And I also realise that I can touch type, and the revelation of biblical proportion has left me very amazed and very dizzy, but that could just be Jack working his magic on me. This is quite a discovery. Whoopie.

I have essays due soon. Three essays in two weeks, and I should be doing them. But I’m not. I’m sitting in bed, drunk, and singing (silently I hope) “ooooh, la la laaa”. Nano should also be a priority, but it isn’t. Kiwi has sailed past the 20,000 mark and (while I am immensely happy for her) I am very jealous. I need to sit and write and write and be happy over the amazingness that I spew from my magical fingers. Hell, I don’t have to be happy with it, I just need it written. Plot holes and all.

But despite the essays, the failing Nano, and the raging headache I’ll have tomorrow, I think things are looking up. University is being fun again, and I can tell that work is going to be less stressful. I didn’t mention, but I had my hours cut – so instead of five days a week, I work two. It’s a fucking big pay cut, but it is more than worth it if I can hang out after class and snuggle up in deep leather couches and brilliantly warm coffee.

I have ten days until this month ends. Ten days to fit in three essays, two online projects and 42,000 words. Ten fucking days. Damn. I say it out loud and things seem hopeless. I have a feeling, no, I know that I won’t finish Nano in time. 42,000 words is impossible in ten days. Especially with essays and university and the fact I’m not entirely sure what to do between the beginning and end. No, Nano is a lost cause for me. I humble myself and renounce my claim that I will do it. I can’t. Sorry.

But

I will continue my novel. I think that the whole point of this exercise was to get a first draft on paper, to get the basic outline out of my head and on solid paper where it stands real and tactile in this world. I have a plot, I have characters, and I know where it’s going. And I will do it in my own time. I will not let it fall to the side as a “I’ll do it next week” thing. I’ll do it. I will.

I think I have become addicted to listening to Modest Mouse and the Eels. It is a wonderful addiction that I do not wish to give up.

Oh dear. I am fairly drunk indeed.

I give up

Monday, November 13, 2006
That is it!

Day after day after day I have deleted any and all spam comments that have wandered their way into my older posts (dating back to as far as early 2005). Sex swingers, devirginisers, bi sexual interracial couples who do it doggy style over lesbians, MILFs and foot fetishes; they have plagued my comment section for almost a year. And every. Single. Fucking. Day. I take measures to eradicate all sign of these pests, these Viagra toting, grammar abusing heathens that think I am the perfect candidate for up-skirt double penetration.

Go on! Have them! Go and rape the comment section to your hearts content! I do not care anymore! Hundred upon thousands of you, I beseech you to flood my site with links to bestiality and vomit inspired voyeurism. Honestly, I want it all.

/end rant.

Unsuspecting sleepers...

Sunday, November 12, 2006
The plan was to go to bed at midnight. The plan was to have a good night sleep and to wake up refreshed and energised to write an essay. The plan was ideal.

Plans like these tend to go out the window at the first opportunity.

And now, two and a half hours later, I sit on my bed wondering on the sexual orientation of my bed. We all hear the calls at night, the seductive whispers of our beds as they beckon us to sleep softly in their protection. But has anyone wondered if their beds have hidden agendas?

I think not.

There's always one

Saturday, November 11, 2006
“I don’t know what it is about him. He just annoys the hell out of me.”

“Mmm,” I agreed, “maybe something to do with how he states the obvious.”

There was a hyena laugh from a few seats down the aisle accompanied by the slapping of a hand against a thigh.

“How can they stand to be near him? Even from over here he makes my skin crawl.”

“They could be deaf.” I ventured.

“It’s possible, but they should be able to sense… it.”

We both leaned back and tapped our pens absentmindedly on the desk, deep in thought. There was another laugh from down the aisle, and a stray pen flew by our noses. We turned our heads in synchronisation and looked towards the offending being.

“You know,” she said as he settled down and looked blankly ahead, “it’s possible that he’s really just depressed. That he’s putting on this show of bravado and merriment so that no one guesses. Maybe he’s really messed up inside, and the only way he can deal with it is to pretend it’s not there.”

“Boobies!” he exclaimed from down the aisle. The people around him laughed and even the rows in front giggled.

"I have to admit, that was perfect timing." She said beside me.

I let my head fall forward and land with a thud on the desk in front of me. “I think I’ve lost my faith in humanity.”

S&M

Thursday, November 09, 2006
There’s a soft swishing of metal against metal, the light glinting off the bright silver blade. It twirled around my finger, spinning elegantly and slicing through the air with no effort at all. My other hand was on the table, feeling the cool smooth surface under my palm. Without thinking, with no logic or hesitation, I brought the scissors down in a decisive swipe. It slid into my hand, stopping at the bone and shuddering with force. Blood ran out of the base of the metal, blooming over the back of my hand like a rose before flowing over the edge in little rivers. I kept my hand as flat as possible on the table, focusing on the cold top rather than the burning wound. I smiled a forced smile, my mouth trying to twitch itself into a grimace.

Keep smiling, just keep smiling you fucking bastard. Put yourself all the way through this. You are better than this. Face the fucking facts, and smile like there is no tomorrow.

I pull the scissors out, making a sickening squelch as drops of blood and flesh fell about my hand. The perfect silver is now bloodied, the shine now turned into a deep red glisten. Hot blood drops everywhere, and I keep on smiling.

I keep on smiling.

Except not as messy...

It snuck up on me, quickly and quietly when I least suspected it. I was relaxing in the brief ten minutes I had before work began, sitting back in the semi-comfy chair and burying myself in a non-university related book. I was totally unprepared for it; my mind was in a completely separate place when this little beauty came up behind me. It whispered quietly in my ear, a soft whisper that lit up my eyes and made my mouth curve into a smile.

I had an epiphany.

It started on the edge of my mind, hiding tentatively, but sprang into the light oh so suddenly. I looked up from my book, my eyes shimmering with hope. I held the thought delicately in my mind, racing upstairs to my desk before I scratched the idea into my notebook, making sure I did not miss anything out. Recently my Nano progress was slowing to a practical halt, and I was becoming more and more frustrated with my lack of progress. But last night I wrote nonstop for an hour, pouring out ideas into my laptop until sleep overcame me. My character is easier to tackle, the plot begins to make more sense, I can write in a certain style, and I can give something that English students can analyse the crap out of.

It was so… amazing, to finally find something that works. All my frustration and annoyance was washed away in the relief of this little orgasm of an idea. Hell, I might even need a cigarette.

Jules Verne has nothing on me

Saturday, November 04, 2006
It was pitch black down there. No light could work its way through the twists and turns needed to reach this god awful place. I reached out and inched my way forward, squeezing myself between the rough ground and the solid ceiling. It was surprisingly warm too, despite the cold weather on the surface, and I carefully wiped a bead of sweat from my brow. I couldn’t see a thing, and that made me nervous. I could feel my flashlight in my back pocket, but the power was low and I did not want to risk being left in the dark with no reserve. The darkness was everywhere; it permeated everything – even dulling the sound – to a point where you were unsure whether you were grabbing solid ground or solid darkness. I reached out and grabbed another hold to drag myself across, but this gave way. I squeezed it, feeling the softness, the furriness…

There was something alive down there. I fumbled for my flashlight in a panic, hitting my head off the hard ceiling as I did. I winced in pain and clumsily dropped the torch, my hands flailing wildly for it before it plummeted into the never ending darkness. I grabbed it and twisted the top, the light bursting into life and shining the way ahead. I looked forward, terrified of what lay ahead. But there was nothing. The way was clear, and I could see to the end of the tunnel. I breathed heavily with relief, sucking in the cold air and breathing out again.

I couldn’t breathe. I gasped and choked, but there was something in my throat, something warm and furry. I kicked and writhed, hurting my hands and head off the side of the tunnel. My flashlight fell from my hands and rolled away, leaving me in the horrifying semi-darkness fighting something inside me. Something was holding my ankles, a firm grip around them. I made a rasping sound as I was dragged back the way I came, being pulled out into the open air and to my probable doom. The light blinded me, and it was too cold. I shielded myself from the light and huddled over, still grasping for any breath. I looked up and saw Jules standing over me, a wide grin over her face.

“Finally cleaning under the bed then?”

I rolled over to the other side and hocked up the dust ball.

“Not anymore.” I wheezed.