Archive for November, 2007



Posted by Comments Off on “It”

Absolutely nothing. No wonder I’ve been so silent and unmotivated lately. I have nothing. My mind is absent. Tired. Weary. Sleep has been evasive. Some mania has gripped me, holding me fast into wakefulness. Insomnia. Burn out! I’m functioning purely as an automaton in some austere sphere of disentanglement. I need something but I know not what it is. Just some sense that “it” needs filling but with an overriding estrangement of sense, of meaning, of purpose. Desire in flux with fulfillment. How can “it” be filled. It can’t. It won’t. The chase. Absurd. Memory. Fragments. Pieces.

Just little pieces. Little bits and bytes. And in the end…….

What’s it all supposed to mean? No answers….

Keep going. Keep doing. Don’t think. Don’t dream.  Don’t question. Don’t speak. Just keep the ball rolling…..

Category : Uncategorized | Blog

Girls, mares and the pony

Posted by Comments Off on Girls, mares and the pony

Well the Melbourne Cup has been and gone, departing with it the damn twenty dollars I backed on a nag that just didn’t cut it. I don’t know what came over me to lash out on horse race that I have little interest in otherwise. I was mobbed with the madness, it infiltrates the air like an airborne virus, quick to disable the rational faculties of otherwise intelligent human beings with meaningless frivolity and facile complacency. I should have realised the lunatic was lurking in the air conditioning ducts of  office buildings all over when I walked past the corner pub on the way to work this morning, wondering why the fuck there was a girl and a pony on the street wearing a stupid blank look in her eye. For the life of me I just couldn’t work it out, its not every day that there’s a fucking pony in North Sydney. It then dawned on me. The race. The damn race that stops a nation. All and sundry stopping. Forgetting to breathe. Gawking at mares hurtling around an oval field with money flowing and gushing between sweaty hands, women with silly hats and fine dresses flashing their wares. The cup, of course, why wouldn’t there be a pony on Walker Street,  North Sydney?

How strange! And how did I get suckered into this madness? That damn girl and her pony. The meme was in her eye and it passes into my level head (hahha) setting its seed to germinate during my lunch break and in a flurry of I gotta’s, I found myself putting a bet on. Strange. So very strange. The strangest thing is why the hell this race is so meaningful? Why bother with the Melbourne Cup? What makes this horse race so damn special?

Madness! Pure and Simple!

Category : Journal | Blog