oh my god

for those who dont know me too well, i love film. There are a number of films that i have heard about and wanted to watch. I went down to the video store to see if those films were there. Scarface wasn't (steve informs me that its one of the most stolen films from video stores), AI was not there (i guess spielberg aint that popular), so i settled on showgirls. .....Argh! why didnt anyone warn me! As me and luke watched, we laughed, cried & stared blankly - but not in the way the movie wanted us to. laughed at the so-so serous bits, cried at the flimsy twists, and stared blankly at an unexpected rape scene. Completely out of the blue. I dont quite know what to make of it. I wonder why no-one warned me about it prior to watching? It didnt make sense in terms of the movies plot, but then again, im not sure if the movie had a plot. All in all, a very strange movie.

on the brighter side of things Howl's moving castle is good. A little lovey dovey at the end but worth the trip getting there. Its very much in the them, of kikis delivery service & spirited away. worth the watch even though the ending is a bit sappy

on a final note there are newly added links to garys blog & jon's live journal please feel free to browse :)

currently reading 'the democratic paradox' by chantle moffe

TLC

argh! What do ya do when nice people do patronising/paternalistic things? People act with good intentions - they're trying to 'help' but its done in a manner that brushes away any trace of sencerity. Brushed away as quickly as the deed was done.

My 'professional issues in psych' class is full of ex-teachers. they're studying the subject to become school counsellors. They really are nice people - as individuals that is. But on mass they are a clique of anecdote telling, paternalising, and self-refering cowboys. Very in-crowd & very naieve to the fact. Anyways to make a long story short, they noticed the scars on my arm. And so begins an ordeal of questions 'what happened', polite comments 'how are you today', and and ever searching eyes for another scar. Its nice that the care about my health, but the experience just puts me on the spot. Makes me soo self conscious, and feel paternalised. Argh, just makes me not like uni at all. But i dont blame them, they care atleast.

For contrast, Trevor at work comes outright and says to me 'god. those scars are still there'. He then whips out some moisturising cream & begins to demonstrate the 'magic of vitamin e on scaring'. He rubs the cream in for me. No skirting about, no assumptions of my reasons or muffled statement of intentions. Just the action to show he cares.

on the ball

to jump on lukey's band wagon i just might take a moment to reflect on my breakup from William. I feel that this is best done by sharing persistant metaphor

A persistant metaphor
Recently i've been more concious of my body, i've missed the dance floor & going seriously at dance as opposed to comedically. I've started 7am wakeups, exercising and streching. The last time i did this consistently was approx 2 years ago. As part of this conciousness I have attempted to walk less on the side of my foot & more on the ball. I've realised that this pattern of walking - this small aberation - is part of the reason that i dance so fast, and get a little wobbly. The sides of the feet may be stable footings when walking, but on the dance floor, where things intensify, i really do need the stability promised by using the balls of my feet. In conciously changing the distribution of wheight - the way in which i step - i aim to step more steadily. The process led from not noticing a difference to fatige & tumbles as i began using different muscles. But now i'm noticing this is disappearing and now i'm finding that i'm getting more stable even at the extreme of bodily movement on the dance floor.

dance piggy, dance!

at last! my new zine has been printed - dance pig - a zine about clubs, pubs, boys, friends, puppets and love. to all those who will see me around, you can get yours then. If i wont see you & you'd like a copy then email me. it comes with a free CD of my tacky music

dancepuppet@gmail.com (this is my new email, i'm taking for a test run, my other email will still be used for a while). :)

in other news, i'm my usual excessively smiling self today (which is strange cause its a uni day & it usually bores the fuck out of me). I am currently reading a book called metaphysical horror - very interesting to read, if not a trivial safari into the triviality of philosophy.

zen and the art of bookself construction

i stood in the newtown talking to adrian '...its like everyone's life is changing so much, alot of heart ache,' he nods at me, and offers up an observation 'you know lifes changing all the time, sometimes you just notice it... feel it strongly when the change is also hapening to you'. It makes sense. I think he's right.

Heidi opened the door to her little gathering. She's moved to ashfield to be closer to friends. Our posse of four finds some magical beans. we climb the stalks into the sky. Her new house feels warm, friendly, compassionate - as too is the company. 'oooh, oooh, i'm peaking - were's that soundtrack' stamers heidi. Bolero begins to play. It is a strange moment as i move between the past and the present. Was it also a house warming when i last heard this? I hypothesise that house warmings are strange events that require such magical moments - this entirely new place will become as old and as safe as those other places we've given the same name.

the boys from the shift have come down to kooky. theres marky mark, micheal, arq mark, and a host of other boys whos company i have made. i sit in the conner with the little ones as i sip my beer & pass i smile out here and there. little rach, little arron & not so little arron, those little pups rolling around with fun. Emma, luke & daniel arrive to share some drinks, to make this night complete. for the most part i daze away in my happy home of friends & chats. i leave early, and the next day recieve a text from marky - hoping that i'm doing ok today - it reminds me the words that he said the last night, half joking, half serious, 'your magic, puppet, just make a wish, and it'll be'

as i sat contently in the lounge i looked at the book shelf i had made. 'Zen and the art of book shelf construction' i thought to myself. Enviromentally friendly, practical & warm, dismatable, not-quite perfect, but sturdy & capable. Filled with the pages of the books that had filled my thoughts over time. like friends i have made who have filled my arms over time.

a po mo tortise and hare

the heart played a game with the mind, to see who'd win over this body this one last time. neurons trasmit with amazing speed, quicker than the blink of an eye. The mind was always the first to act, to react, to rationalise & over think. It had the ace up its sleave, take what was given & then make it something radically different. Emotions trasformed into denials, feelings endlessly displaced. A fearce competitor for the prize of power - determination.

The heart could not keep such a pace with its mere beats. Its endless profussion of a fiery liquid so quickly became redirected. From the powerhouse of arteries to the dissipated capillaries. Unbounded emotion wanned so quickly. How could the heart win? it had the strength, the patience, but not the skill, the wit, the speed. And in that moment a plan conspired... the mind could not be beaten at its own game, but it could be tricked into an untennable position. The mind could win, with the prize of loosing.

The mind freted & flipped, it collapsed into a heap. Outdone at last - for once it had nothing to think. The heart won, breaking out of its cage and into the world. To guide its boy toward the truth. Yet its plan had unforseen concequences, unplanned tiddings. It discovered that the minds work could not be undone. The mind had lost, but now so too did the heart. It fell in love, and in a week the heart was broken, exhausted, decieved. The lacerations dug deep. To stop the blood, to seal the wound the mind stripped off its own mylien sheath, wrapped it round, and became infused with the hearts very being.

The heart thinks now, the mind feels, its such a strange thing, to sleep with the enemy, so lovingly.

just for this moment....

after the chats, the beers, the sex. After the night of casual jokes in bed, I can tell that things are changing and soon i will need to look inward & decipher my heart. Make sense of all of this. But for now I curl into his arms and just enjoy the moment. I'll tend to my 'capacities' tommorrow. Save all my thoughs of needs & desires, of fears & past hurts, of being true to myself & being respectfull of others for some time after these arms have let me go. Save all that for later, & just let my arms curl back around him. just for this moment....

love puppet

I leave the mall with my recent aquisition. A copy of 'leather folk'. Accounts of kink, politics & community lie within its pages. I had heard the title mentioned by a friend, and decided to indulge. Tales of leather, fetish, love, pain & other assorted forms of taboo fun.

taking public transport home, a bus to be exact, i watch as a young boy stares at my tattoo's. At the ripe age of 15(ish) this little boy discovers a love for the inked flesh. I cant quite remember when i first discovered my affliction for tattoos, but i imagine the event to be much the same. a glance is all it takes.

When i get home i pin my leather voucher to the wall so as to remind me to get out there & spend it. As i sit, looking at it my roomie justin tumbles through the door offering a recent musical discovery for my ears to hear.

'hit me, smack me, drag me to the floor,
hit me, shake me, make me want more,
crush me, break me, drive me to the floor,
crack me, whip me, im your .....(dont quite get the word)
push me, love me, play with my strings, i'm your love, your love puppet.
- sonic animation, love puppet

maybe its time i started to challenge myself sexually instead of letting it just fall onto me as is so often the case. maybe its time i seriously challenged my inhibitions & got down & dirty (& safe). maybe its time that fantasy became reality... maybe... all the signs seem to say so. But its one thing to read them & another to follow.

p.s. as i write this 'dance hall days' is playing, & i cant help but give a big smile as i sit in my room by myself. A smile so big the corners of my mouth may be reaching the ends of the world :)

something found caught in the cogs of a machine

'So we'll change, we have already changed. We're doing all right. Some people think we're bound to stay on the same old path. We dream of other things. more secret, more joyful. Compromise no longer because that wont be necessary, and we will always find allies we want or who want us.'
Gilles Deleuze

little soldier boy

It is a cold day in melbourne. Walking through the market stalls a chance item catches my eye. A small plastic toy, a little solider boy. Such a contrast for such a youthful figure dressed to play an adults game. His story unravells in my mind. This worthless trinket develops a fantastic history. A history that may finally give value to its artificial being.

This scared little boy. His dreams were dashed in the ravages of war. Promises became deceit. And what was right became what was wrong. Surviving, yet without sight of what to live for. The world is nolonger the safe playground of his childhood. He shivers in the cold melbourne weather. This brave little boy. He remembers he once smiled, and in that moment he departs. Abandoning all he has, except the hope for some distant home. Taking his first step away from the front line, now he is a enemy to all but himself. Not quite a boy any more, yet not quite a man. No mapped out route to follow, only the cracked face of a compas to point toward the future. Leading him from the present. His mouth begins to smile once again.

I craddled him in the palm of my hand. He was the only thing worth keeping.

its a heartache, nothing but a heartache

it seems that everyone is so sad at the moment, i learnt from my roomie today that a whole range of dyke friends & aquatences have also recently ended their relationships. Its so sad. It seems eveyone is breaking appart.

on another note, a friend of mines privacy was recently invaded. someone hacked into their email. its quite shaken them up. :( while the culprit has been found, it really sucks that this happened to them, and considering the culprit was in their teens, its really made me wonder how easy it would be for government agencies to access, say, my info. Most likely at the touch of a key.

unpoetic uni life

Once in a while i go to uni. this hapens to be one of those times. I'm in the fourth year of a psych degree. Things seem to be going good. My marks are going well, i'm understanding statistics better than i thought i would after 2 years hiatus (its valuble having a mathamatical/science background sometimes) & am taking time out to study. Unfortunately after four years i cant help but be so over it. I dont want to see another text book, experimental design or university campus for a while. I dont want to administer tests on people & i'd like a bit of life experience before getting into course work for professional accreditation. This of course means that next year will be spent learning to hate full time work in order to take a small snit overseas, b4 i worry about carear path. Probably not as long as Ali or Louise, i cant imagine myself being out of sydney for long, i like the sunshine they have here.

them's the breaks

why is it so hard to get over people & move on? I've quit smoking. Thats addictive, something they have support lines to help you through. But that dosent bring you down like a break up does.

i know that emotions are not rational, just talking about it dont always help. justin explains that in time you 'just turn off. You'll realise something and then you run with it'. Rod from work explains 'that you have to get angry at them' (thus make a distance i assume). emma reminds me that 'puppet, you dont believe that people fall in love with just one person, dont let this get you down.'

the brief-therapy text book that i flicked through in the uni library explians that 'solutions dont always come from the problem itself. sometimes we have to talk ourselves into a solution, the way we can talk ourselves into a problem'. im not quite sure what i want my solution to be.

folk wisdom explains: 'time heals all wounds'. i'm better than before, but i've still got a way to go.