Enjoying the ride

Love it wasn't. Lust it mighta been. Being caught up in the emotion of a notion it probably was.
Romanticising the situation I surely was guilty of. Speaking like Yoda for no reason I am.
OK...so I'm at the end of the line; the point of realisation where my fantasies and 'what ifs' have hit the brick wall of the reality that is - she doesn't feel the way I did, she never did - hell I'm not even sure I felt the way I thought I felt.
That may not make a lot of sense, let me try to explain.
I definitely was attracted to this girl, and at the beginning she was attracted to me. That one night might have been the pinnacle of all that we could achieve together on this earth, however, and maybe it has just taken me a few weeks to realise that. That doesn't make it wrong to celebrate a night of passion, even laugh at the humorous aspects of the encounter...it is all good life experience "at the end of the day, when there are no friends, when there are no lovers"...(I love that line from the REM song 'Good Advices')...it continues..."who are you going to turn to?"
For me, that is the key. Who, or what, do I turn to at the end of the day, when I ponder what has happened, or not happened, or might have been?
I found myself wallowing in self-pity yesterday, when I felt I had been treated badly by this girl in question. It is not a good place to be, but thanks to a friend I got out of that space.
Let me explain how he 'played shrink' and argued me through the negative thought patterns I was stuck with in my mind.
He asked me "what did you want, or expect from this relationship?"
I replied, honestly, "I was hoping for more sex, or intimacy with this girl."
He then asked, "what was it that made you want her - were you attracted to the idea of being with a hot, 20yo Canadian girl for purely physical reasons, or was there a genuine intellectual connection? In other words - what did you have in common?"
I thought about it, and decided I probably wanted to be with this girl mainly because I found her attractive on a physical level and that we didn't have much in common, apart from I liked her sense of humour and thought she had a good sense of fun.
So, he argued, because we didn't really have much in common, my main motivation had been wanting sexual gratification, (I think now, probably for boosting my self-esteem), and therefore, since I had already achieved that goal on the first night, I should be satisfied with that, and not expect anything more from the 'relationship'.
The other issues that he helped me resolve were based around the fact that since that first night, this girl in question had not, in fact, made one single attempt to contact me. That cold, hard, reality hit home a bit and made me realise that I'd been doing all the pulling in this relationship, and while it may have appeared to one slightly naive (or hoping for the best) that she was enjoying my company and perhaps wanted more than just a passing friendship from our 'relationship', the truth was rather that this was a 20 yo girl, who I already knew had another boyfriend out of town, and who knows how many guys after her arse like me...
I don't blame her, she is young, playing the field, wants a good time, but has a totally different perspective on life to me and I was foolish to try to make more out of the situation than what I got that first night. But you live and learn, as they say.
And that is that is that. I will move on, and try to just enjoy the moment for all it is worth!

Sincere thanks to Mr L. Cohen (for Alex)

I know that flattery, will get me nowhere
so let's try sincerity, maybe we can go there
but let's not talk of promises and things we can't untie
your eyes are full of sorrow, that's no way to say, goodbye

I loved you in the morning, your kisses deep and warm
Your head against the pillow, like a shapeless, ageless form
You know my love will go with you, like a ship in the night
just take a piece and bite it off, when the lights go out

Who knows where this story ends, in formless, wordless hours
I would hold onto your hand, for an age with all my powers
But's let's not get romantic and hold onto notions of love lost
When there's daylight and joy, who needs pain, longing and cost?

So next time I see your smiling face, your dancing eyes
I will open up my arms to you and feel you beneath your disguise
You know I'll wait for you patiently, I have nowhere I need to be
But always know that I only want for you to always feel you're free

You've opened up my heart to love, and now all the world has colour
I can laugh in the rain with friends and seek comfort in another
So when it comes time for parting once more I'll be all the more wise
and because of you I'll keep my heart warm when I cry into your eyes

When the ship calls me on board to up and leave this town
I'll cast a final glance across the bow to you, but never form a frown
I'll just bask in this inner glow and thank you for your sweet light
You can be sure of one thing, my love, I'll be thinking of you, tonight.

On maturity

Maturity...funny concept.
One minute you're mature, the next you're staid and boring.
I'm not sure where I fit in on the scale...ze gads i know i try to be zany and impulsive, but deep down there lurks the dreaded maturity monster inside the bowels of my consciousness.
Dealing with relationships...now there's a way to gauge such a concept.
How do I relate to friends? family? lovers?
Am I considerate? unselfish? caring? loving? jealous? petty? vindictive? shallow? lost? alone? cold?
I'd wager I'm a few of the above, for argument's sake just pick the good ones and own them yourself. There are more, of course, these just jumped out at me.
Learning about love truly is the pinnacle of what we, as humans, can achieve on this planet.
Love for ourselves, first and foremost, love for another - whether it be your mother or the hobo on the street corner, George W. Bush, or an angelic 20 year old with a body to die for.
You can see where I've been recently...on the cold and ageless road of love.
Why cold? Surely love is warm, hot, burning, yearning, growing, feeding. Maybe it is, but as Michael Stipe once said, in 'Good Advices', from Fables of the Reconstruction (circa 1985):
"...at the end of the day, when there are no friends, when there are no lovers - who are you going to turn to?"
I think we can turn to something at this point. I think as long as we have an innate love for ourselves, our sense of self-worth and self-esteem can withstand any slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that may wreak havoc with our lives among love and learning.
This is the cold love that I have for myself in my strongest hours. It binds me, and holds me tight to my inner strength...it distances me from the trivial and temporary flashes of passion, lust, longing and jealousy, and is there for me when all the lights go out on the horizon line.
I may have a cold heart, but at its core there is love.
I am content and I will survive.

'I wanna be your last-ditch fall-back plan...'

It started with a smile,
friendly eyes in a busy body
I was looking around
for fun in a new country, a new town

You were never on my list
of things to do before I die
You grace these pages of our lives
as life and love pass us by

When you came, you came again
You loved it when I held you close
I wondered what to feel when you said
to me, 'You make me feel so safe'

We lay in the rain, warm and happy
as our lips embraced with the water
You led me home to show me how
you were still your father's daughter

I wanna be your last-ditch fall-back plan
I wanna turn you on when the lights go out
I wanna leave you as a light falls on water
to meet again amongst all this laughter

and if the moment just seems lost
don't feel like you should count the cost
and if you're feeling insecure
i feel the same way you can be sure

when in sober moments we reflect
our love will diminish and dissect
so let's not dwell on what could be
rather feel the now and be free

if you'll love me one more time
i won't care if you're never mine
because shooting stars come and go
how precious you are, you may never know

Of laptop addictions...

Well I'm back.
And I am well and truly addicted to my laptop.
Dell XPS M1330...oh how I love you.
As far as one can love an inanimate object, that is, and that, as history tells us, is pretty far.
I would put this little baby in the blow up doll category...sure it may not have the same holes in the same places, but hell...it turns me on like no other three dimensional non-living entity.
If she died, was lost, stolen, ran away from home, or other such unforeseen calamaties, what would I do?
Get a new one pretty quickly with the insurance money, is what.
So why and how am I addicted?
I wasn't a year ago...I didn't even have my XPS then.
I had a computer at work and one at home, but I wasn't obsessed.
I blame football fanaticism, gmail email, journalism, social networking and the greatest of all evils - facebook and my space.
I used to only have a few of these to contend with, but now I have them all.
And I love it.
It's amazing how much thought you can apply to your day, how many little contributions you can make to hundreds of people's lives around this universe simply by being logged on to the www.
OK, I'm done.
My sleeping pills are starting to work and it's time for a break.
No doubt I will see you again in cyberspace...I look forward to making your acquaintance.

Kingston in the Fall

Salut and hi,

Living ici dans a bilingual country peut etre somewhat confusing.
All right, I'll stop with the stupid double entendres now, or whatever the hell I was doing.
While it's a fact that you can pick up random snatches of French just reading the back of the cereal packet all over Canada, here in Kingston we're not really a bilingual town. In fact we're totally Englais round these parts - that is people speak English unless they are frogs hanging out with other frogs.
So I haven't spoken a word of frog since I got to these here parts...it was only on a day trip into the Western-most region of Quebec to Wakefield that I dabbled in a morsel wafer thin de francais.
But Kingston is a town with an interesting past. It was originally settled by the frogs, way back around the 17th century I believe, and I think used to be called Frontenac. Of course I could check these facts on wikipedia, but that wouldn't be half as fun as my half-assed historical ramblings.
So, later on the Anglo-Saxons did their usual thing of pantsing the froggies on the battlefields of North America, and Frontenac became Anglofied and it's name changed to the present Kingston.
I believe this town was in fact the capital of Canada for some time, but again if you want a history lesson you should hop on the wwf and find out that shit for yerself.
So here I am in the 'limestone city' - so called for the local stone base to the land, which has been incorporated into many of the old school buildings around here. Kingston, well the downtown area anyway, is full of nice old buildings, which go right down to city hall on the Lake Ontario waterfront. It's a small city full of character, not a totally pristine and sterile city like my hometown Perth, but an interesting mix of old but stylish architecture and grungy slightly dingy alley ways.
It's now been nearly 4 months since I took up residence here in K-Town, and I'm finally starting to feel like a local. I've got a favourite local haunt - an earthy Irish pub called the Toucan, or the 'Touc' to those in the know. It's full of fun, down-to-earth Canucks who like to drink, eat, carouse, watch a bit of sport and generally act the goat, as Professor Cuthbert Calculas of Tin Tin fame would say.
As well as the Touc, there is nearby downtown Bubba's for your late night saturated fat fix - mine of choice is that renowned heart-stopper endemic to Quebec - poutine - which is hot chips and little pieces of cheese curd covered in piping hot gravy. Hmm...you just need a companion with cpr training to accompany you and you're fine.
Other highlights of the downtown area that I've sampled recently are the Sleepless Goat co-op cafe, which has yummy hippie type fare, and Greco's Greek restaurant, which for some reason serves Greek food. The only other pubs I've frequented are the Brew-Pub, or Kingston Brewing Company, which brews its own mean range of beers, and The Merchant pub, which has good live music on some nights and a friendly, dancing crowd down near the waterfront. I've briefly been inside a more upmarket type wine bar called the Tango, which serves good Tapas apparently and a big range of cocktails, but it's not cheap.
So while I've been here for quite a while, I seem to not have discovered all that much about my adopted Canadian hometown. Let's just say I've concentrated my time and effort on drinking and carousing and soccer watching at the Touc, perhaps to the detriment of seeing other places or sights.
But I'm here for about another month, so look out for further posts on my last-minute adventures.

Sitting on a bench in Kingston, Ontario

It's muggy today. As I walk through these now semi-familiar streets I can feel my clothes gripping and clinging to my body like some long lost lover. The air is still and the sun shines hesitantly, waiting for some cue to release the real summertime.

I'm on the water's edge, a soft mist envelopes the far bank of the lake. A sailboat or two join the birds in embracing the landscape and behind me there is the constant hum of morning traffic.

Where am I now? Where did I come from and where have I been? Does the shapely girl in tight, athletic shorts have an answer for me as she strides by purposefully, or am I just looking at her retreating form out of an obligation to my heterosexuality?

I love the trees here, they are unfamiliar and the leaves have a bright forest green hue not seen in my homeland. I wonder what each species is, and whether they are native to this corner of the world.

Every now and then a fellow traveller passes me by as I sit here content on this bench.

I like the sound of traffic I've decided – it makes me feel at home. Just like my brother finds solace in the stillness, I find a place of refuge amongst the din. I could sit here in the sunlight, with the happy birds chirping merrily all day.

My pen is new and fresh, and I have few obligations for this day. If I look around and up from my vantage point, I can see power lines stretching through the tree branches – doing what we humans love to do – connecting me to you in a concrete way.

The water is still and the silhouettes look at me mysteriously across the bay. A seagull with a piercing gaze appears to come to comfort me. He is my friend and I'm glad that he feels no reason to fly away. But now he patters off on his yellow webbed feet and when I look up again from my page he is gone.

Another gull waddles the same way and with a cry launches his body up, up and away into the sky. A light plane passes directly overhead, as I look up to plot its course my eyes look straight into the sun, shielded only by my sunglasses.

Now a sailboat tacks from right to left with its mainsail spread to catch the growing breeze. I feel it fresh on my cheeks and it washes away all the irrational fear that has built up in my being.

I am so lucky, and so free. I have been blessed with the chance to choose who I can be.

My friends are all around and will never leave me to die alone. I have lived a fortunate life, but I have energy left to give back in return.

Amen.

perth in the autumn time

the rain comes, the rain comes down on me
the sad song, the sad song fades to memory
i knew you, i knew you then
these changes, change will come and go
these skies are taking me, taking me far from home

greetings to myself and any other loyal followers of my inconsistent ramblings!
all is well in the world, at least it is from where i'm sitting. of course it isn't for possibly many of the world's population, who have a daily struggle for food, water and life.
so i am in the position of realising how very lucky i am, and i know that probably sounds trite.
but in jona land all is well and things are looking positive. the rain came last night for the first real time in Perth this autumn...rain it did, and rain it did well.
i love the sound of rain on the roof...it makes me feel all cosy and warm on the inside, like there's someone who loves me or some such. there probably are one or two of these types around, i figure i'm a pretty lovable kinda guy.

I'm posting this now, even though i wrote it ages ago. This is what life was like before I left on my round the world adventure, check out my next blog for the start of my life on the road.

of ups and ups

greetings earthlings...how good does it feel to be alive? if the answer is good and good is what you feel, then that be good. if you are currently low on seratonin feel free to borrow some of mine - i have plenty for the time being.
this won't last - for good, bad, or ugly. i'll either get more and start having my alien visits again, or i'll gradually decline into the inevitable trough of depression. oh well, dem's the breaks.
life though, is good for now. i wake each morning into glorious autumn light, slightly groggy from the cocktail of epilum, zeldox, zyprexa, largactil and the odd fish oil tablet to keep me regular like. then i partake of the odd xanax during the day to take the edge off my mind's wonderings...
but don't get me wrong - this is all cool and i wouldn't have it any other way. i may have dodgy kidneys by the time I'm 60 but I may have already died of heart attack or some other glorious death by then anyway. point is you make choices and you live with 'em.
today i choose life, tomorrow it may be death. but don't be alarmed...i only mean death by chocolate. apparently chocolate is good for depression...a theory i always enjoy testing.
For 4 days now, i've taken to strolling around Lake Monger (see pic below) for a morning constitutional and i'm starting to see what all the old farts and young go-getters get out of such an activity.
The Lake is bootiful...with a bounty of birds and booty and lovely green shrubs, trees, rushes and the glassy surface of le lac itself. Birds fly, land, peck at grubby things and ameoba-like micro yummies...and we all walk, or run or cycle or roller-blade or push prams around this swirling mass of nature. Wonderful. Sometimes you meet your fellow human's eye, sometimes you don't or they don't. Sometimes you say hello, sometimes they say hello, sometimes only you do because some people don't really want to live in a society. Fair play to them i reckon. But they're silly at the same time.
The walk takes about an hour there and back again from my house and my tired old legs and hips can feel it by the time i'm home. I wonder how long I will be motivated to continue this happy little exercise...probably until my body tells me to start sleeping 10 plus hours and the listlessness and negativity of depression curtails my head and heart from venturing far from my bed.
On that happy note let me just say that i can feel the down in the pit of my heart, but I'm not giving in to it yet. Long may that continue.

of ups and downs

well here we go again...on the upslide of what neil young once called:
'the rollercoaster ride...that my emotions have to take me on'.
for those who came in late, as the Phantom would say, I have bi-polar disorder which rears its head from time to time, in varying levels of severity, and with various effects on my day-to-day existence.
back to neil young - one of my favourite topics - he is pretty spot on that young fellow... the rest of that song 'natural beauty' goes on to say:
'natural beauty should be preserved...like a monument to nature...don't judge yourself too harsh my love, or someday you may find your soul endangered...'

so here i am on the upside of down, not judging myself too harshly, and getting on with the business of life - work, play, eating, trying to sleep and generally taking plenty of sedatives to help that process.
a friend wisely told me yesterday to be happy with my achievement of continuing to keep myself in the land of the living so to speak, in that in the past i have often retreated from my day to day obligations of study or work, thinking that the best way to combat a high episode.
But it is becoming clearer and clearer that the best and only way is to ride on through the storm, taking the medication to help get through the episode and trying my best but not getting too downhearted if it gets out of control.
All you can do is try your best and when that fails, try again. I'm sounding like a self-help book now, so I'll stop.

I had a fantastically relaxing weekend down south in Bridgetown at the folks' property...with the bro, the mum and the step-dad and not to forget the two lovely kelpies Chilli and Jack (see a pic of these cool canines below).
it was uber-relaxing just chilling on the farm in the trees and the breeze, doing a bit of work on the verandah (with its associated male bonding with Sig and John) and eating well and sleeping pretty well most nights and a bit during the day.

I took the bus down, and caught the train back to Perth...the bus(es) were slow but got there in the end (5.5 hours later) but the train was fab...beating the Easter traffic rush with consummate ease...almost as if it had its own track...
I even wrote up a realo story for work on my brand new laptop on the way home... it was extremely post-post-modern of me to do work on the go like that. I was sitting next to a little scamp who was listening to Eminem on his mobile phone MP3 player... I asked him if he liked Beastie Boys - he said yes - so I offered to bluetooth some tunes to him to show how down with the tech i am...he kind of sneered and said he could just download them if he wanted to. cheeky monkey.

Well enough rambling...is this what other people do on their blogs? Self-indulgent rambling? No wonder no-one reads mine. Would I even read past the first line if I read my own anonymously? Probably not.

On that note, I will say goodbye to myself for anther post, and look forward to meeting up with myself at another time.

Love from me

Ground Zero

This is here. This is me. This is what I wanted you to see.
That was then, that is past, that is gone and won't last.
I was yours, you were mine, I couldn't stand petty rhymes
You were here, you were gone, you ended up far from home.

-this is a new beginning of not much really. who knows what the world holds for all those little girls and boys who don't have access to high-speed broadband? i was like them once - lost, alone with my pretentious childhood games of army men and lego...
where did it all go wrong? why can't i be like him, a veritable model of consistency, a bare-faced liar looking away from the light of his own soul. the world is my oyster...a smoked, oily mess that may or may not resemble a bearded clam...depending on whether you've ever actually seen a live speciman in daylight before.
i am not a poet, i am not a visionary and yet i am both if i choose. i am here for the taking, women of the world, unless i am gay, which is possible i suppose but not in the gay sense of the word...ie 'that is so totally gay'...'ah i don't mean gay...i mean pretentious'
if gay=pretentious then i probably am gay actually...totally gay at that.
why else would you start a blog?
self-importance?
a vehicle for self-expression?
to release my inner demons of a tortured soul, bereft of any love and affection in a cruel, post-post-modern world?
a veritable melange of bouillabaisse-like proportions of the above?
any old excuse to use the word veritable ad nauseum...or maybe even the word ad nauseum veritably.
enough wank for one day...i'll see you next time there's semen in town.