travelling the world

i'm bitting my lip. i fills the time while i figure out what words to say. i look at him. he's so cute, that cute little nose, beautiful eyes, the hint of a few frekles... I just want say the right thing, not that there is a 'right' thing to say.

Serbian huh? Gez my parents would be furious *smirks*. I can see that you love to smile as much as i do. cute teeth, kissable lips. Though i must admit he talks alot - almost as much as i do. Darn competition, lol. Yeah... sooo, you're like... um... built?... grrrowl. makes me feel so meek. A strong spirit, analytical, thoughtfull, he speaks his heart. he excites mine.

i'm smiling babe, this night, this moment... its fantastic.

puppy dog's tails?

Arms arised. feet apart. bend my knees. My hands fall as i turn left. My face goes red. I've turned the wrong way. I turn the right way. as they say 'life's full of wrong turns...' i'm tempted to add that these turns are '...coupled with many an embarasing moments'.

Going to dance class is a frustrating thing. It really is starting from scratch. You learn set styles, to specific beats. Your feet & hands play different games as the music referee's. Dont matter what you could do before. Now there is only this. The trick is not so much learning to dance. It is learning to be taught. Learn the dicipline.

I remember a connection between mr foucault and dicipline. he showed how dicipline as the practice of correction, as the body of knowledge, and as the conditioning of the body all came together. I appreciate his words as i step, shuffle, march. body, knowledge, power. I soilder on.

I enjoy it. I like dancing with the additional classes of yoga and of course the gym. its a challenge. the good dancers inspire me. a shyness brought on from unfamiliarity is a hinderance slowly lifting. Gary mentions that 'its most difficult for you beacause you're not used to being taught, to restrictions. Your freestyle, this isn't' He places the emphasis on free. 'sometimes though you gotta take 2 steps back to go 3 forward'....

...and step 1, 2, 3



I saw my baby, crying hard as babe could cry
What could I do
My baby's love had gone
And left my baby blue
Nobody knew

What kind of magic spell to use
Slime and snails
Or puppy dogs' tails
Thunder or lightning
Then baby said
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Put that baby spell on me
Jump magic, jump (jump magic, jump)
Jump magic, jump (jump magic, jump)
Put that magic jump on me
Slap that baby, make him free

I saw my baby, trying hard as babe could try
What could I do
My baby's fun had gone
And left my baby blue
Nobody knew

What kind of magic spell to use
Slime and snails
Or puppy dog's tails
Thunder or lightning
Then baby said
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Dance magic, dance (dance magic, dance)
Put that baby spell on me

what gay am i?

i think i answered in the positive too often...

You scored as The all-round cute gay guy. YOu are a cute guy who many would die to be with..........lucky!! The all-round cute gay guy 90% A Big Bear 70% Straight Acting 70% S + M guy 70% Raging Queer 70% Straight 10% Straight Queer Basher 0% What type of Gay are YOU? created with QuizFarm.com

deviate!

I wanted a quiet night. I could have done with cheap weekend. But some how... some bizzare act of fate it all went sideways. I deviated.

It started with dinner at Don & Andy's. A quiet dinner. A nice side of pork belly. A few glasses of wine. Maybe it was the pot smoking started the trouble. Or the little pash that found me a lift to manicle. Alas, whos to say?

A few beers at manicle, a chat with emma. A little dance & some flirting with the boys. Not too dramatic... till i found myself in the posession of a half price pill. As the sounds became hazy & my sight blurry, i suddenly couldn't tell if i was at manicle, or shift, or phoenix, or bent. I lost a nice t-shirt, and found myself in the company of unexpected aquaintances.

After leaving the home of some trade on sunday evening i met up with Will for a drink. A cask latter i crashed, getting enough sleep for an 8:30am start. I borrowed a cute shirt off Will.

I laid on my bed for most of monday evening, not sleeping first time home since saturday. Just lying there. My mind buzzing. Amiss from the weekend. 'ok, next weekend is really going to have to be a quiet one this time...'

family

Matthew & Paul are my younger brothers. Twin brothers. They've grown up so much. With their little tuff's of hair growing on their upper lip & broke-in voices. They're so cute & now taller than my sister! You cant see it in the pics, but they have rosy cheaks, that blush easily. Its so cute & sexy. (mental note: next boyfriend will have rosy cheaks).

I hadnt been home for a while & was happy to see them mature. I was happy that Teresa (my sister) was looking after them. Giving them love, in her own way. Teresa was lookin wogtastic herself.

Dad was nowhere to be seen. His absence has apparently become steadily more present within the house. The house itself is run down. In need of a fix. Half restored, half desroyed.

Joseph, my older brother, was withdrawn. Finding comfort in solace i guess.

Mother was... well, mother. She still doesnt leave the house. She is like the house. I miss her i guess, but i just cant seem to cry for her. I remember once talking to my sister about how in a way if she was dead things would be better than this. We could grieve then, instead of stuck in this limbo of emotional turmoil. I've lost my hope to see my mother again. I dont even know if i'd recognise her if she was with us.

Wait.

Maybe i would. I think i rember her laughing once. And she hugged me once. Read me stories from the bible before i went to sleep. Maybe i would... if it could happen...

Henri

Henri Bergson was born a jew, but over time grew sentimental towards the roman catholic faith. At the time (30's) jews were being persecuted. He chose to remain a jew to show his solidarity to their cause. When he died in 1941 a prayer was read out by a catholic priest, on his request.

to have compassion above faith is truly a blessed thing.

short term

babes gone. i new it would happen. the use by date was in clear view for all to see. it has happened. all those little chance encounters mean a little too much now. Its all thats there. Evenings into mornings, mornings into evenings. Prolonged departures are the template for all our joinings.

'yer a diver huh? well, dive in deep then'

just my luck. 'me' see 'you' go, never really an 'us' to cry about... but im still sad.

bye babe, enjoy the trip.

history of madness

Finally, its more than any little foucauldian could wish for. After reading all his major works, most of his minor works, & briskly attending his lectures, what could make me happier than the history of madness, in english!

This book was actually Foucaults doctorate thesis. It concerns the rise of madness in western society, or rather how one could come to be known as being 'mad'. Madness & Civillisation was the early version of this work. A book that was in need of a makeover. M&C was a translation of the abridged french version of Foucaults text. While the book gave some insight to his ideas, it was also a shocking piece of literature. References were deleted, translation whas poor & 80 pages vanished in the transition to english. The final verison of M&C was two fiths the size of the original.

I cant wait to read this book... *sigh*

game boy

the boys are out, & they're playing games. It can be in the form of a semantic challenge, or just a plain old polemic. Romantic lead-on's that end in cold dismmisals. Emotional manipulations are everywhere, in many different forms. Mind fucks seem to come by the dozen. Its always a case of you vs me. The game is taken so seriously and you play to win. Its a war baby, but what you fail to see is that like all wars no one ever wins.