Build your cities on the slopes of vesuivus

Live in conflict with your equals and yourselves
Send your ships out into uncharted seas.
-Nietzsche.

All you can do is cling to your obsessions . construct your own personal mythology out of them, follow these obsessions like stepping stones in front of a sleep walker . because if you compromise with your obsessions, that way lies disaster.
-JG Ballard.

What is the weight of your perfection? Does it bend you or keep you easy?
-Me, NYC may 05′

I am doing that thing I do this time of year. Going back through the hundreds of pages that I have written over another 365 days. So this is kinda a “worst of” if you will. Just some of the shit that flew out and king hit me. Most of it is a total load of crap but then again so was most of 05 if I want to have a good sharp look at it.

Enjoy.

Nov 05′
As soon as she saw me again she cracked like a roman statue.
Told me of being dropped onto a concrete floor, beaten to a pulp in front of her children. A son that was in her arms as she was pistol whipped by the last husband. And my coldness may well kill me. She begged me not to do anything. Not to walk in and snap his neck. Not to hunt him and return what he had given her.
As the sunset I asked her what was worth saving and as she sucked on her umpteenth cigarette.
Her relationships now the electric chair her, nurturing public fronted noose. “The children, the Children”. She replied.
Morse code flashing like LED lights red and poison across salted eyes.

..

All I ever do is listen and write. Nothing I could say would match up to the glory and sadness of what is confessed to me. I really wish that I were a crap listener.

Maybe in the end it was never worth anything, life being what you do until you don’t. I dreamt that I was sitting with a hopeless family fat and disenfranchised on the back of a flatbed truck telling them that the drugs would not help if they did not seek council. They listened until the father returned in a drunken frenzy and ruined the meagre home where they dwelt in hopeful squalor. I awoke cleaned and departed before he did.

What a fuckin year. This finds me at the foot of my bed listing to skynard and avoiding doing all the same things that I have been avoiding all week. The house is busy today and it makes me happy. The penicillin that I am taking for my abscessed tooth is wreaking havoc with my neither regions. I hate my corpse. I think that the feeling is mutual.

Seven at nite and the sun is still up. I can see the heat shimmering on the roof next door. I have been paper chasing all day. Purging all that I can of this year before the new one begins. So if it all comes out disjointed its because I am all over the shop. Nothing ever really makes sense. Me first and foremost.

Not getting paid so why should I?

[Late august]

I want to stop wanting. Why do I think that all my problems would be smaller if I could move on from my longing? I know that I am fucked and sick of myself. But if I leave I don’t win. I can’t not win.

I thought that I saw ******* in a cafe. Memories of baguette diamond fantasies in bougainvillea drenched LA.My heart hitched. He would have looked right through me. I look like no one that he has ever known.

I curse all the beauty I love in those stupid long boys that would fuck my sister but blag all my one-liners. How the fuck is that meant to work? Not that I want to be a sub par fuck puppet mind, I think that at this point I have a rather virulent strain of Courtney-it is. I too, long to be the girl with the most cake. And while I am placing orders relating to desire? You can take this extra 25kgs that haunts me and shove it up your ass.

30 days till hospital. You always find yourself waiting on something right? I got fresh batteries in my Discman and black converse. Road warrior! Behold. Saucy rock being.

[After a show in Bondi, early summer]

I am searching for any goodness left inside me. I managed to offend everyone tonight. Myself the most. And there is blood 20 years too late and never as relevant as it thinks that it has to be. They are so drunk. Why am I bothering tonite? I am going to get myself killed doing this.

I feel like I am goading it, tempting it. I am shutting down. I still want it as much as it still wants me. Bondi is seething and I really can’t stand it. I pissed off everyone. I break. I break. Everyone is high and the star of their own movie. It’s never the end of the gig for me.

[If u were here I wouldn’t be sleeping. sept 15th]

[Jan 1st 05.]

I tend not to believe that she was ever aware of me. She did not have to be aware of anything for she was beautiful. I was the watcher, the silent scribe to her follies. I would sweep the ruins that she left in her wake, and emotional seismograph ever measuring her heartbreaking damage.
“8.5 on the longing scale” I would muse to myself ever in her shadow noting the cataract like glaze on her admirers eyes.

This is love as I saw it.
A story of rich love. Fur coated, uninvited. Chain-smoking with a smoky laugh and Italian leather shoes.
Love.

She fucked unsuitable people and thought that she was always better in past tense dragging around her insomnia and her broken heart.

I spoke to myself
I did it because I watched her do it.
She would gather up all of her potions and elixirs and make her way into the buttercup walled bathroom with too many doors, all of which she would lock against brothers and rude uncles. Against the summer at large. She would sit on the counter; feet in the ugly moulded faux marble basin with its poky mission brown taps and lovingly tend to her beauty.
All the while conversing and answering questions to her adoring minions in the mirror.
Alert and witty ever ready with the perfect answer.
She was my eternal bet.
I sat at her feet like the dog I was.
I saw it.
I saw it all.

ALL SINS HAVE THEIR ORIGIN IN A SENCE IF INFERIOTY OTHERWISE KNOWN AS AMBITION.
-Cessare Pavese.1961.

Denial gets you higher than you were when you were high
And it’s about being less
To be more
And 30 hours in
You wonder
How you do it with out smoke and speed
As all the the beauty around you binges
And maintains
And I know
That there are ribs
And hips
Higher woman
Leaner
And break the habit
Eating is habitual
If you quit
[Please tick the boxes] Drinking
Smack
Coke
Vodka
JD
Bad sex
Hard women
Dumb boys and 60 sweet fuckin Marlboros a day
Ask yourself why not food?
There are bones beneath you
Ideal
Bullshit
Ribs
Holocaust in me in me around me holy bones holy bones
I don’t want to know myself here I want to burn
Stress and
Melt
Fit a fist between my thighs
Have people ask if you are ill
GAUNT
Iggy
Mick
Keith
Less less less.

[Written at the dizzy heights of my LA self hatred rampage April 05]

You call him “Daddy”?
Yup.
That’s sick!
Mmmmmm, Isn’t it?

-Conversation late sept.

[On the ocean, sometime in May 05′]

I know that I don’t occur to you if at all anymore.

Still,
I want the crown that has no thorns
It was not the name I was due to recall
Where I came from
I am the shape of what was forgotten
Of all that is unforgiven
Burning into glory
Don’t take it for granted
Strong and melancholy

Don’t discredit the velocity of absence
The ferocity of loss
Angled for penetration
My paranoia knows no distillation
And im fucked

On the wire
Under fire

Till I die
I execute important exercises in brutality.

There will be a test.

That’s it I am tapped and over myself.
Later
SF4L
Michele.