watership down

i watch watership down the other day. its such a fantastic movie. when asked what it was about the only way i could think to describe it was by saying its like six feet under, b ut with rabbits.

meme

i just don't get this meme business!
what does the word 'meme' mean?
who thought it up?
where do these meme's come from?

it reminds me of that 'never ever' drinking game - but without alcohol - wheres the fun in that lol

14. Scotch tape and PVA glue

it is always within half receded moments do we reach the truth.

There are those moments when we walk next to someone, down some city street that we come to make sense. We may say something revealing, deep and honest. Other times it is when we drink our beers in the bar, when we make eye contact at a distance with some stranger do we reveal something true. An exemplar for this moment moment would be when we say things while shrouded in darkness. Imagine lying next to our lover at night. Bodies are naked & yet hidden by the lack of light. We say things to each other that we would not otherwise say.

Only when we are not quite in the moment are we able to access our souls. This is paradoxical. It posits that we are 'true' to ourselves only at the moment that we are not completely within the moment. How can it be that we are true to ourselves when we have distanced our 'self' from 'our self'?

The paradox is only resolved through the realisation that truth finds its counterbalance in history. Truth is in our memories. The truth has always receded into the past prior its welcome into the present. The truth is never quite present, but also never quite past.

We find the fragments of the past scattered on the floor. In order to receive the past in the present our task is to pick up these pieces and put them together to make some picture. With strips of scotch tape and PVA glue we stick together our memories. Things without connection become firmly pressed into each other. We mould random events and small little gifts into something more. What we are left with is something between an artists master piece & a child's finger painting. It is the image of our past. Framed and mounted on a fridge in the house of our minds. It has all the romance of Michelangelo's David and all the smudges of an art school sketch.

For Jonas, as us all, history is always written in the present. But the present is a condition of history. Thus history is always in contest. What the past meant is always merely a tenuous allegiance of circumstance & event. Whether we hold our art sacred & kept to precious, or whether we tear it up & start over again is a direct reflection of the allegiance. Jonas withdrew from that kiss. There was a smudge on the canvas. Something glued to the picture that should not be there. It was as if the lights had turned out while he was at work. Darkness.

He could hear a faint voice whispering in his ear. It whispered all the fear, all the love, all the different interpretations that could be - all whispering because the truth is said in whispers. And they are said in the darkness of night. All voices speaking from the past to rupture the present. Jonas receded into memories - into his heart. It is always within half receded moments do we reach the truth, and so now too would Jonas find his.

stuff update

alots happened... heres a run down

this zine thing is nearly finished! hope people have liked it :)
new job starting shortly!!
seems i'll be getting my psych registry out of it too yay!
Jorja is back from the UK :)
i seem to have misplaced my ring which has made me sad
i've been getting better at dancing which has made me happy
i lost kitten, im very indifferent to it
my mental health is the best its been over these past difficult 5 months
still worried about bunny situation, but it'll sort itself out.
Brog's, Zeppo & the twins are all having birthdays - i'm soo broke!
best of all Spunkrat, my ex #1 made contact with me - were friends on Facebook now, apparently hes in Krakow in Poland for the moment.

14. interlude

'We are discontinuous beings, individuals who perish in isolation in the mist of an incomprehensible adventure, but we yearn for our lost continuity. We find the state of affairs that binds us to our random and ephemeral individuality hard to bear. Along with our tormenting desire that this evanescent thing should last, there stands our obsession with a primal continuity linking us with everything that is.'
- Georges Bataille, Erotism

'When Paddington eventually came downstairs again his forehead looked suspiciously damp and there were several pillow feathers sticking to his fur. He had reached a particularly interesting section of his book called TACKLES - AND HOW TO DO THEM, and for the remainder of that day the Browns gave him a wide berth, especially as he kept casting thoughtful glances at their ankles whenever they went past.'
- Michael Bond, Paddington on Top

13. Jonas and the whale

Poor Jonas, caught up in a world of his own device. Poor, poor Jonas trapped deep within the belly of the great beast.

He is trapped in his whale, a cage of flesh and blubber. The whale that both protects him from the harsh sea and condemns him to the darkness. A whale that protects from the darker side of realized emotions. A whale that condemns to the suffocating hug of contemplation and rationalization.

This is the story of Jonas and the whale.

12...

Many thoughts in so few moments. It was already late in the afternoon and Jonas was still in bed.

'the night was good... it was a good night' Repetitions of the same thought. 'I just didn't feel comfortable thats all... the smoke machines and the lights... the pill was smacky and...' Revisit the moment. Uncover the details. '... it just didn't feel right' Answers that aren't explanations of any sort.

'There was Bastian dancing with his friends... Me with Toby just sitting, and my head resting on his lap. Riding out the rougher part of the E... And Bastian, his body divyed up by the green lights around him. He danced with his friends. With my side ways gaze i could make out his Cheshire smile and his sweating torso. He looked soooo nice.

'And then he walked over... and then we chatted briefly... too tired i was, to up was he... differing places, right time, or maybe the other way around, either way separate ways for us it would be. He leaned in to kiss... and... I just felt so...' Frowning thoughts.

'He looked at me kinda hurt, kinda stunned. But... i just couldn't kiss him there. I just couldn't kiss him then....

...maybe i was smacked out, maybe i was just tired and didnt quite realise what i was doing, i was tired, and its not like i dont love him, i swear i do, and he holds me and i feel so good, but i dont know, the way he danced with his friends, they're such a different world to me... and why didnt he dance with me when i asked, i dont know why, where does my world with him begin and end? what expectations are valid for the ones we love? who decides, not me thats for sure!' a coughing... 'and then i hurt him i think, and i know i didnt mean it, but i dont even know what i meant, what a fucking silly fucking stupid moment, it was nothing, an accident i hope, a glitch, maybe it was just an e induced dream i'll wake up from if i go back to sleep'

Jonas final thought before he fell to sleep what that night where Bastian hugged him so tightly. He remembered the blood, and for a moment even believed he could imagine its copery taste.

11.Tori Amos - Enjoy the Silence

10. the souls of people

There was a line of thought that marked the mind of Sebastian. It was a line to the truth. Or perhaps rather the problem of truth. If one follows this line 'to ' the truth, one inevitably finds that the line has no end. If the line has no end, then there is no truth. But if there is no truth then to where does the line point. It is knowledge - philosophy, science, fact and experiment which measures out this line. A quest for truth that is a profound paradox.

The problem of the truth lead Sebastian to the worlds of fact and science. Unlike religion, unlike faith science could explain and not simply promise. He began a search for the truth, all for the sake of truth. He would read his books on physics and geology, on Einstein and Feynman. But more than this 'strict science' kind of reading, he liked his books of facts. think books on how trains work, and deep readings on the rivers of the world. For all his cute 'ocker' ways he was a very smart man.

He took a silly little pride in him self for reading books that others would simply dismiss. For instance the 'history of salt' was one such exemplary title that could be placed on this list. The list itself would be as random as the images one would see when flicking between Animal Planet, National Geographic and the Discovery Channels on the telly. In a systematic 'bit of everything' kind of way.

A soul that is defined by the search for truth is not willing to settle on the truth of things of the natural world alone. As things are discovered, they turn their attention to those things undiscovered. Eventually they mays settle on the undiscoverable. Physicist found quantum theory. Freudians found the unconscious. Sebastian found Love. In his own idiosyncratic way.


What is the truth of love?

Is the truth in the word or the action? There is the old dictum that 'actions speak louder than words' that words lie, and that it is actions tell the truth. This is the voice of one of two types of people. The person who would speak this phrase is one who would hate words. Words can lie. It is only in action do we reach the truth.

This would not suffice for Sebastian. The dictum is paradoxical. It must fail itself in order to prove itself correct. Instead Sebastian grew to view things differently. It was words, knowledge that were the truth to action.

What is it worth if you have love but cannot say the words i love you? 'The actions would just be a lie' Sebastian hypothesised. 'whats it worth if you cant say it?' Sebastian saw the role of declaration to be bound to words alone. Right or wrong Sebastian grew to be a person who loved words. he was never afraid to say the words 'i love you'.

It is these same words that made Jonas' heart quiver with unease. He had heard the words before and had seen the way words can lie. Jonas had grown to hate words.

Thanks to Mr T, for all his hapless hours of unselfish blog assistance in making a banner for me :) YAY!!

9. the Krebs Cycle

When Jonas asked the question Bastian could not help but smile. 'It's such a natrual thing ain't it?' he began, 'but its so complex its hard to replicate' He spoke with his usual english, punctuated with slang. 'Its like a Krebs Cycle...' and so he began to explain, As he did in his usual round about way.

'The Krebs Cycle. Its what makes us breathe.. its what moves the oxygen in the air onto the red blood cells in our body & moves the CO2 out...' he frowns & starts again 'imagine it, a huge chain of chemical reations, each one relying on the others all moving in unison. One molecule carries a important oxygen molecule, but in order to move is out of the air & into our blood a whole bunch of other reactions need to take place. It all needs to happen in a certian sequence in order for that oxygen to be open to the opportunity to enter our blood.'

'love is like that Mr Jonas. Love is about a whole bunch of little interations going on that we are not concsious about. they move us to a point where we bond. We bond & we stick & we bring life to al that there is. As they say Hemoglobin in the key.'

Jonas smiled & so did Basitian. He had found some b eginings to the science of human connections.

'love evolves from a whole range of interactions, interactions that never know in themselves that they lead to happiness.' he pauses 'and unhappiness'

8. Sia - Breathe Me

7.Pause. And pause again

His hand was on my chest. Once again we had made love. Once again we found ourselves together. His hand remained there as bodies relaxed. Slowly sinking into one another as we had done so beofre. 'I love you Bastian'. I finally muttered. Bastian found his reply in the form of a long & extended kiss. We lay there together for a little while. Finally he rolled onto his back. As he did so he let out a laugh. It lasted only as long as one breath. Why do ya call me Bastian, you know i prefer Seb?' He queried. I paused before i replied...

'Your name, your full name - Sebastian - its soo beautiful. I kinda admire it in a way...' I watched his expression change as i spoke. He could hear my truthful tone. '...well, calling you Seb, i dont really relate to that in the way your mates do... its a bit beyond me... its too 'ocker' and your very 'ocker' Sebastian - sometimes i dont always feel comfortable around you because of that.'

I paused. Bastian took the opportunity to respond. 'Aaawh... babe, whats the deal? Sometimes i see that you ain't exactly comfortable, but im not sure why and im not sure what i should do...' he looked at me confused 'im not that ocker... and your as Aussie as i am.'

Once again i paused. Sometimes all i can do is pause. I recuperate the moment and identify a line of action. I thought about myself. My mother was half Chinese, my father dutch. My features were scattered between to disparate continents and finally assembled on this island that is 'Australia'. I don't quite look asian... i have a bit of body hair that i cling too... I have lighter skin than most. But i also have darker eyes, am short, and my nose is more typically asian(...darn, 1/4 chance & dutch are typically tall!) I pass on occasion.... other times i fail.

I decided to avoid the trajectory Bastian had offered. It lead to no-where. 'I love your name, partly cause i hate my own.' There i said it! 'Jonas - you know the story from Sunday school, the one swallowed by the whale.' He nodded. "I've spent so much time running away from all that - all of my past. The past can be such an ugly thing...' Pause. and Pause some more. 'Your name, i know you dont like Sebastian, so i dont call you that... so i'll call you something cute instead. Something for me and you to share... is that ok?' He nods & he comes closer. He hugs me and i hug him back.

6.kitsch & beauty

I sipped my coffee. Toby just sat there and grinned. I had made my little confession to him, with a few fumbled words. 'affectionate', 'really amazing'... 'just dont know... yeah'. His words seemed to come together easily. 'So so... it seems that my Jonas has found a man.' he said this with an inflection on the word 'my'. He was obviously happy for me, but also a little bit jealous. Most of all he was intrigued. Toby, my one time love, now my closet friend. He couldn't help but to ask questions. 'So how did you meet?' I blushed a bit 'in a bar, it was hardly romantic, more comic.' I said, beginning my account of night and a day and a night.

'It was a trashy night, to be serious - i cant remember half of it' Toby giggles, i continue. 'Anyways... i remember checking out this guy. We made eye contact. And talked briefly... anyways i lost him in the crowd... didnt worry too much about it. forgot it by the time sunday came about. So about half way through the day i get a text asking me who's Jonas? I was curious, so i replied... Here ill read the texts' i said making my way to the phone.

Bastian: So who's Jonas
Jonas: that would be me. And whats your name
B: lol. Sebastian
J: enjoy your night out
B: yeah, got a bit trashy, till trying to figure out who you are
J: i had a mickey mouse top on, well for some of the night at least
B: lol cute, but no go, what else
J: black hair, black eyes and a bit of fur on my face, mmm... so help me remember who you were
B: so you had fun too lol short red-ish hair here, lonsdale top on too, koi tattoo... me thinks im getting warm
J: mmm... im still a bit fuzzy...
B: think we even shared a kiss
J:lol hope it was good
B:yeah it was, you out tonight?

I bush 'well you can guess the rest.' Toby looks up and smiles a dastardly smile. 'All good romances walk a fine line between kitsch & beauty. Kitsch was the text messaging. He laughs a little & continues. 'The beauty is taking the chance to meet him & take a risk.' Toby smiles with his blue eyes, stands & hugs me. I him back & we continue out talking.

5. an excerpt from a misguided life

I tell him that i am alone. He immediately retorts 'you're not alone, I'm here for ya.' With those words i fall silent. He has acted in a way to reassure me, but he has only brought me more doubt. He doesn't know what i mean when i say i am alone, and thus he finds an incorrect answer in positing that his presence will fill a void of human connection. But of course thats not what i meant.

Thats the funny thing though, all human activity is marked with mistakes and mis-perceived notions. We act with good intentions, but intentions alone cannot forclose interpretation. Instead our actions become 'misguided' a understanding is infact misunderstood, and misunderstood twice! the first time by the confidant, the friendly listener. The second time by the seminal speaker, who cannot help but become bemused by an answer that is misguided.

I stay silent because i dont want to correct him, i dont want to explain what i mean by me being alone. It may lead to more misguided outcomes. He may try to save me, not realising that the iteration is the acceptance of the statement. Or worse still he may not try to save me - the acceptance of an essentially negative statement can commit the soul to the project... a good thing perhaps, but the soul never commits to this world. It is not of flesh. Another possibility creeps into my mind he may find my aloness (which is, incidentlly not 'lonelyness') to be sickening... he who has been in relationship after relationship. Isnt my statement to him beyond his comprehention, or are my thoughts mearly misguided? Agh... but how could he understand the merits (and faults) of being alone without having lived it...?

4. interlude

"it was sitting on an old leather suitcase marked WANTED ON VOYAGE, and as they drew near it stood up and politely raised its hat. "Good afternoon" it said. "May I help you?"
"Thats very kind of you said Mr Brown, but as a matter of fact we were wondering if we could help you?"

- Michael Bond, A bear called Paddington



"I believe that truth has only one face: that of a violent contradiction."

- Georges Bataille

3. the keepsake

Bastian came home to find Jonas asleep in bed. Bastian smiled as he undressed. the boy had waited. He had made peace in his home. Jonas relaxed into the passing of time... a passing that so many people find to be an unbearable state. As he climbed into bed he noticed a red hat & blue coat held tightly in Jonas' hands. Ever so gently & ever so slowly he removed the bear. He then proceeded to fit his own hands around the body that meant so much to him. Jonas moved in response - still more asleep than awake, and together they found (half by chance & half by direction) a position that fitted them both. A sleepy embrace, a situation where bodies relaxed into the other.

--

This embrace - the embrace of Jonas and Sebastian would become the template for their relationship. For any relationship to work, we must be able to find our way to 'fit' into the other person, both literally and figuratively. For the person who jumps & clings to their lover while listening to the sounds of their chest has a different love to the one who likes always to keep their partner at such a distance that they may always see their face. Sebastian & Jonas held themselves in a way similar to they had done that first night... in that first embrace. Only not so tightly as to wake him. Sebastian held Jonas, and Jonas tilted his head back to find his Bastian hear him... only this time the embrace was more mutual, more relaxed.

--

Bastian fell asleep shortly after falling into bed. He was exhausted from work & more so from the desire to be else where. In fact Bastian felt he would have felt asleep much sooner had it not been for Jonas. Not Jonas as such, rather Bastian had been semi startled by the way Jonas had clutched the bear. Had Jonas held this bear as a kind of substitute for him? A kind of keepsake before he arrived? It was a possibility... even if only unconsciously. Perhaps there was no reason to it other than boredom itself... Jonas had spent about 10 hours alone here... Jonas, this not-so-long-ago-stranger-to-my-life! Bastian quickly realised he was making much out of nothing... stil, he wondered why... the red hatted bear... what did it mean to him? Nothing much. It was a present from an ex-lover. the lover had been to London & saw it fitting to bring it back. 'A bear for a bear' he said. He wondered weather Jonas had thought it meant more than it did to him? the thought sickened him. But perhaps the sickness was from else where. The way Jonas clutched Paddington had reminded him of the embrace he had made the night before. The idea that artifice could so easily replace him in the play of passion brought him unease. He clung Jonas again, in a similar way as previously. Only this time not so tightly, more relaxed.

2. the a physics of human engagement

i about the about the apartment, picking things up & putting them back down. i move from object to object as each new item captures my gaze. It began with a framed picture. It caught my attention so much so that i was willing to get out of bed. He stood there smiling standing close to some other man. Possibly some past lover... possibly a friend. Next to it was Paddington bear, sitting quietly in the cuteness of his red hat and blue coat. I waited a second & moved on. Items both personal & impersonal were visited by my curious stare. cologne, an novelty match box car & an old news paper. Heat waves & bushfire's were the topic of the day. I continued my search from the bedroom to the lounge unsure what i was looking for. I settled on a book & opened it up at random. My eyes skim through a description of atoms, molecules, and chemical reactions. 'The whole group [of atoms] is "glued together', so to speak. On the other hand... if you try to squeeze two of them close together they repel.' explains Feynman. His words make me think of Bastian. The way he had squeezed me last night the way i had felt.

I wanted him to squeeze me tighter. It wasn't enough to be anything but broken. But why did i want this, why it not enough to simply be held? We had not known each other for that long, but we both felt a shared love. So many nights together in the last few months had pulled them together. But until they had met they had lived a world apart. If it was in the present that they could be joined them then so too could it be said that it was history that separated them. It was a history of past 'presents' that I did not figure in could not even imagine what they were. How could i even say that i love some one with out knowing someone so completely... But then again how can we know anyone completely? How can anyone be squeezed tightly enough. 'Its all just a silly little doubt' i told myself. But still... isn't it a truth that all relationships are met with challenges, with tests, and our past is one test amongst many. That picture, that other man... I was angry with my self for assuming that it was a lover first before considering the possibility of it being a friend. I looked down at the book again and in a cynical moment & wished that science would turn there attention to determining the a physics of human engagement. A science of love.

1. the beast whos name is lust

Blood on my fingertips. All amidst sighs of pleasure & smells of delight. I can see now red as i draw my index and middle to my gaze. It’s a cherry red that stems downwards as if to find roots in my open palm. A pain grows in the middle of pleasure. Bastian is overcome with passion. He fucks me good & hard. He takes me so deeply that i disappear & it becomes all about him. I live in his presence and thus I am taken to the point where i am revealed to be meek and human. so frail & venerable. its as if i was cursed by a disease where the slightest touch would break my skin and allow to seep out my hearts blood - a profound bleeding that is the expression of love! Thumb & fingers press together for a final wet confirmation, and then they slide sickly apart.

Pain over rides pleasure but i continue with the act. I pull my hand to my thigh & wipe way the blood as he puts his arms around my chest. He holds me tightly, but i want him to hold me even tighter. I remember the blood as he cums. Each of us makes an offering to this beast who's name is lust. Gentle touches ease the passion as well as the pain.

Bastian nuzzles his face near my ear & gently whispers an apology of sorts '...i just get so carried away.... your smell.... touch... didn't mean to hurt ya' i half heartedly mutter a 'it's ok'. I do this not so much cause i doubt his guenuity, but rather because i know that this was my choice as much as it was his. We lie next to each other for just slightly more than an hour. Bastian delayed his necessary departure as long as could be. he dressed as i half slept & half dreamed... every so often i would delay the tiredness so as to look at him... and every so often he would pause from his task of getting dressed in order to look at me. As we look at each other we remember our pact of blood & cum. he fixes his collar & looks at me again with his soft blue eyes 'Jonas?' he calls to me 'i want you to be here when i get home' Its a demand as much as of a request. I of course respond in a yes... it is an answer that lives in the memory of blood.