Sunday, August 28, 2005

puppet vs existentialism

i watched a movie once. two women alone in the middle of no where. one who talked too much, the other none at all. At a point early in the movie the following passage is read from a book:

'all the anxiety that we bare with us. all our thwarted dreams. the incomprehensible cruelty. our fear of extinction. the painful insight into our earthly condition have slowly eroded our hope of an other-worldly salvation. The howl of our faith and doubt against the darkness and scilence is one of the most awful proofs of our abandonment and our terrified unuttered knowledge'

there is no possiblity to disagree with such a pesimistic view. such a view is the acknowledgement of the death of god. no holy hand shall guide us, or to which we can seek refuge in. there is no destiny. only the cruelty of chance. it is the throw of the dice, a throw that can be mystified as destiny. god may exist, but god is in no dice...

so now we are abandoned. alone. the world entraps with no soul to transgress. how we got to this place we do not fully comprehend. but the desire to change is with us. that feeling called hope prevails. within the darkness & scilence i discover that the criteria for all actions is my will to action. my hope. hope is neither faith nor doubt. it underpin's both. faith & doubt is their false maifestations - faith & doubt wrongly search for exterior criteria for legitimation. the final requiem for some higher purpose. hope is only grounded in the nothingness. It is pure alchemy - as lead into gold, nothing into hope. spontaneous production of life without reason.

so i hope. hope into production. i create, i create a world of hope. chance encounters into friendships. casual sex into dance. a brisk touch into love. hope is neither fantasy nor reality. psychoanalysis & materialism need not apply. endless machines replaced consecrated meaning. and thus meaning becomes the grinding of machines. meaning becomes a secular meaning. ever personal, ever shared, like the teeth of a cog. those i have lost i regret. some cog jumped from the machine. those who i have gained i stand in salute. ours is a strange love. note that our communal hope is all we need. it is a worthy condender to nothing, one that may suceed.

Ms emma dont doubt me - i'm the one who left satre's eyes crossed, and dont doubt yourself - you left my eyes crossed. ms liz one of your words is deeper with meaning than 10 of mine. Luke, dont be afriad to cry. Steven thanks for the love, & understanding. Mr justin, fear is not always the enemy. To those others - jorja, aaron, daniel, arq mark and the all the rest - ours is a world of our making, so make it...

Thursday, August 25, 2005

simple frustrations

life feels as if i am on a razors edge, as if i were to crash, to fall, but i have yet to hit the ground. Dont get me wrong - most is good, things are well, but in this crazy world of high flying acts, i seem have lost my safety net. I know the routine, i know myself (enough, at least for this night) but without that net in vision i must acknowledge how precarious my life is. Of course, dear readers, this carnival has more than one attraction...

On the high wire is mr Luke & mr Justin who must now each do their own routines alone. On a tense rope they preform their tricks solo, there could be no other way. Each can only see the other, losing sight of themselves in the process of looking. Walking in oposite directions their bodies obscure their desired destinations. Each walks forward, but to the other they walk in reverse. We do not know if the audience will break out in laughter or tears. beneath them stands a clown with a miniture umbrella. there he waits for the fall. he loves them both. i cannot imagine that what the outcome will be. he just hopes that neither fall, that he need not cry.

In the house of mirrors, (the side attraction that we all love) i make my way. Lost in a sea of reflections. Each reflection is me, yet not me. There are many mirrors, many differing aspects, many differing faces. Then i realise that the reflections are of me but also the people whom i know. This is not so strange. Deleuze & Guattari once commented that our psyche & our social overlay one another. A social repression is a psychic one. A psychic extension is a social one. The 'I' is always already a 'we'. Little parts of me - familiarities & passions - are little parts of them. Yet the people i see these days are less those whom i share history with & dearly love, but rather its the new people & the 'not so causal' encounters i experience. I fully realise that all it takes for me to consolidate my old friends is to walk down the road. But perhaps i like mr bobby with his friendly talks over cigarettes, perhaps i like mr sam with his effortless fun and happiness. Time is limited. Must i loose sight of one to see the other? Perhaps i am making a fuss over nothing, in a moments time i will turn a corner to lead me out, but perhaps i may not.

In her tent the gypsy reads the palms of passers by. She sees a figure. She cant seem to make out his image, his esence, yet she knows he is not a menacing figure. Rather he is a tense figure of survival & dreams. She explains that he is a kind of totem - some animal god - some kind of deep expression. 'the lone wolf is one who has yet to devour...' and so the wolf remains hungry, & the prey remains living. She offers some advice 'the wolf is a pack animal, if it walks alone it is not seaking to hunt but is searching... some great obsession, once glimpsed, forever desired. the wolf is strong but between hunger & desire, the reality principle & the pleasure principle, it must know when to walk alone & when to walk together.' And those cryptic words is all she can offer the passer by who seeks a clue to their future.

Caught up in a range of simple frustrations, little problems with little solutions, that i have yet to solve... that we all at times hope to solve

Saturday, August 20, 2005

the drinks stay sipped

Sometimes all the moments, that we savoured for the last,
Get crushed between the good & bad, from pressures we have had,
But you know I can’t conceive the day,
when feeling run too high,
To work out all the stale terrain,
emotions try to hide, when I try,

Lately I can’t seem to colour what we’ve lost,
it all seems like bad means,
When lovers turn from lust,
then I try - try to smoke alone

These shattered ties with no comprise,
fall through this fragile hell,
The drinks stay sipped ’cos we’ve lost our grip,
too exhausted to rebel, then I try

Lately I can’t seem to colour what we’ve lost,
it all seems like bad means,
When lovers turn from lust,
then I try - try to smoke alone

lately, skunk anansie

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

leather me up!

After trying to convince myself to have a quiet weekend, i found myself desparately in need of clubbing... and so in an instant i was out on oxford, again.

After crashing at mr lukey's house on saturday night we went off to day club in the morning to celibrate manicle's birthday. there was a fantastic mix of people, not just the normal arq-aholics who appear on the monday morning but a whole range of gloss stars, divas & freaks. fun was had. the dance-like-crazy kind of fun. the pink-love-heart brand of fun. and the amazing-people type of fun.

a new friend of mine, aaron, came along. a friendly westy type, who me and luke had met at the newtown that week. at 18 he's alot more confident and together than i was at that age. even when his insecurities show. i got to know one of ms emma's friends, the compelling conversationer mr daniel, that is, before he ran off into the daylight. then while on the dance floor i bumped into steve - a kooky boy who quickly explained he had been without sleep since friday night. trashed, dazed & confused he could think of no other place to be besides dayclub.

To top things off i won a birthday door prize, a voucher for radical leather! considering i have no leather so far i am quite pleased that i can finally get something to go with my boots :D
any suggestions as what makes a good first piece of leather?

in other news i have been off the solain for about 2 weeks (its an anti psychotic) and all is good, with nothing major resulting. because most of my symptoms were fairly mild my psychiatirst reckons that while its recommended to stay on it for 6 months as long as i watch myself i should be cool. yay!

maybe nows a good time, while on a high, to take a relax from clubbing & focus on things like study... but considering its lukey's bash this coming week i think i'll have to stay in the ruckus a little longer. ah the hard life *smirk*

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Ms grace, the rhythm

I should have realised that today would be unusual. As i left the house a grace jones disco classic began playing in my head. I was in one of my day-dreamy moods, staring more intently on the horizon of roofs along king street than on where i was walking. Incesant grinnning at passers by & making brief twirls as i waited for the trafic lights to usher me through.
When Im feelin lonely, Someone telephone me, Its gettin hard to pass my time.

earlier today i had conspired to go the anti VSU rally at sydney uni. I made my decision not so much because i agreed with the politics of the action, but rather cause i needed some form of political outlet. It's been a while since i've been politically active and a rally, even one of questionable politics, seemed a good oportunity for reasurance. As i dashed through the crowd, i saw a whole range of familiar faces. Old friends, ex lovers, infamous hacks of student politic days gone by & current aquatences who i had not quite expected to be there. I met each with a small deal of difficulty & delight. It is great these things bring us together, but it is these things that we find ourselves ever more difficult being part of. its nolonger our politics, its not our communities, its not our passion. In times like these i'm sure Marx would thoroughly endorse Aufheben, some creative distruction. destroy the old to make the new, dance on the ruins of the world, if here is not possible then we will make an else where.
Well, Im underestimated, Highly underated, Can there be another way?
So as the rally came to a halt at town hall i decided to do my bit for the cause. On a whim i ventured into the local book store to see what it had to offer for the young aspiring anarchist. I came across a copy of 'queer wars'. a book about the rise of the gay right. Dynasty meets politics maybe. $50. i made my appropriation in true westy tradition. i put it down the front of my pants & walked out the store.
Gettin tired of lookin, Wastin all my cookin, Ending in a dreadful row.
Ended up at the newtown hotel, with Jon, not the usual beer buddy but was most grateful for his company. we talked of boys. we came to many agreements about the needs of people in relationships, about closeness & distances. About the importance of having multiple dimensions to your life & the difficulties to keep them. i dont think i'll be doing anything too serious in dating terms for a while. i'd like to find other boys for some scandolous clubing. (not that my current friends arnt fun, i just want something to challenge me similar to emmas current snit of clubing escapades). i also realised that i really was 'single' - and all that ment: the ups, the downs & the all-over-the-place!
Can somebody tell me, Say to me, oh tell me, Why Im feelin lonely now? oh!.
I need a man, perhaps a man like you, I need a man to make my dreams, And I need a man.


Part Expert Kisser

You're a kissing pro, but it's all about quality and not quantity
You've perfected your kissing technique and can knock anyone's socks off
And you're adaptable, giving each partner what they crave
When it comes down to it, your kisses are truly unforgettable

Part Passionate Kisser

For you, kissing is about all about following your urges
If someone's hot, you'll go in for the kiss - end of story
You can keep any relationship hot with your steamy kisses
A total spark plug - your kisses are bound to get you in trouble

Saturday, August 06, 2005

think of it as a verbal tattoo

I have a new name now - puppet. Its cool if people call me davey, its still my name too, just want kids to know that i think of myself as puppet at the moment. It is not a name that i will have for ever, it will have a use by date. Its just a name, not some surmise of my identity. I was not on drugs during the decission & like getting any new tattoo i had some thought to it before i went & appropriated it for myself. Changing my name - playfully or serious - acts as a catharsis. Too often we tell ourselves 'i'm a this person', or 'i cant do that, its just not me' etc a new name is the possibility (& only the possibility) to bypass this. I knew i felt different & was changing. Mainly due to my relationship with Will & the resulting break up, that was the catalyist but not the sole cause. I went numb for a little bit post breakup - a calm before the storm. & in a flood of emotion it was done.

Why puppet? Thats a little tough to explain. The name 'came' to me intuitively, not reasoned out, but it felt right. On rationalisation the name 'puppet' could be transcribed to 3 areas of my life. In my love of dancing & my experience of the scene - cute little boy with crazy body movements. In my theoretical underpining of post structuralism (performativity, subjectivity etc). In my break up with Will (the strings to my heart were pulled). Of course there are other incidental reasons. I like performing & so lends itself to performance, its a cute
name, it gives something for my friends to gossip about, its blogesque, its fun ;)

Why puppet? Even i had to admit that i too am a puppet to my emotions. And the name 'davey' while it represents much good it also has much bad. I spent too much time refusing to show people i loved them. Refusing to cry. Always keeping people a distance away. Being 'davey' meant my breaking down in hysterics with my knight josh(cause i couldnt handle sex or getting close with anyone), then not even trying to date for ages. it meant me cutting up (or burning) my wrists, groin, & face at times in my life cause i wasnt quite emotionaly stable & didnt know how to be. this is what davey became, better or worse. challenged or unchallenged. Hopefully puppet will avoid these painful pitfalls. Hopefully puppet is a name that assists me in being more open, more honest.

finally 'puppet' is not so much a play thing, but rather can be interpereted as the motif of a little boy. a motif that haunts my writings from time to time. it is of a little boy who's own spirit is circumvented by a harsh landscape that imposes itself upon the boy. The boy's own reality is under question as he deals with forces beyond his control. But it is through this questioning of who he is that he can truly determine his own existance. He can save his self.

Monday, August 01, 2005

jamais vu

alas, davey is no more...
& how could it be any different, the forces that pulled him apart were not of this world.
dashed into a 1,000 piceces. scattering across the floor of the night club. frantic hands jerk to save what was. a hopeless task, yet an inevitable endeavour. an inadequate number of pieces are rescued. with no guide to show how to stick them together!

frantic hands work to fashion a jamais vu. davey is no more. this familiar face is something else. dreams, hopes, memory & passion are the same yet utterly different. davey is no more...

he is 'puppet', noun proper. baptised with fire. 7 scars added to his collection. davey/puppet was transformed both Willingly & un-Willingly. poor little pup, brave little puppet. not quite a little boy anymore. for better or worse. let us hope wood is less brittle than bone