This place was discovered on a lone journey with a camera, a large 6.5 hectare Botanical garden that houses amazing flora and fauna. I came across it one day after just being bored: bored with work, bored with life and bored with just about everything. I then found out about a photography competition that this park was hosting, and I thought “what the hell” and went for it. I jumped in my car and drove over, and blasted through several rolls of film. The photos got developed, and the truth was; they were horrible. I entered a few shots and I can only assume that I came dead last, but what came about that day was an awakening of a place that I loved to discover.
I returned several times to contemplate everything that life had to offer, whilst walking from point to point and enjoying the new paths. Each visit would fuel my mind and give me a new direction. I soaked in the sights and savoured the sounds. I admired the seasons and the changes that came with them. The boredom was slowly fading away.
The blue tree was discovered by accident, and when I found it, I had to stop and gather my breath again. The site of this tree was so foreign to me, that I had no other option but to stare in disbelief. It stood so tall, that it easily scraped the clouds, and on bright days… it almost disappears into the calm blue sky. Yet my mind was split, and it just needed some solace, even if I felt closer to it at that particular moment in time.
Today, I took the grrrl to this park, as we were in the neighbourhood and had some time to kill. I showed her all the spots; the human powered sundial, the view of the valley, the blooming inflorescences, the ponds, the hills, the animals and eventually this tree. And to see her enjoy it made me feel complete. It felt like the love I had for the place and the connection I had with the environment blossomed more-so with each moment that we shared there. She took photos and I shot some super 8 film whilst under the reaching branches of the blue tree, and it all came out brilliant. It was just something uniquely magical, that I still am beyond chuffed.
I then began to think about the first time I visited this place, I then thought of how I was and how I viewed the whole world, but then it dawned on me that most of the time that I spent there in the earlier years were with a soul that felt truly incomplete. Simple.
I can always feel close to home whenever she is around
It’s a Saturday morning, and the new day is slowly dawning under grey dark clouds. It’s not a morning where you feel the cold rattling your bones, but it’s still a brief moment where layers are to be worn to evade the shakes. My eyes are slightly red, sore and tired from work, a job where staring at several monitors daily and getting raw is common place. The exhaustion is definite it seems as I slump into bed, after a foray in burning the candle at both ends it was the time to eventually get some rest.
-“mmm… Hi” she softly whispers. It’s early for her to be awake, especially on a weekend.
-“Good morning Hun” I respond near silently, mostly breath than voice to her ears.
She turns over and curls up into me and kisses my cheek softly before slowly falling into slumber. A sweet little reminder placed on my cheek, a welcoming back to home.
I lay there tired, feeling as though the mattress could open up and swallow me whole, I let my heavy eyelids take over and drift me off to sleep. The fleeting last memory I recall I had was one that was perfect, one that was sweet and comforting;
“I can always feel close to home whenever she is around”.
There’s a brief moment I relish in, that ideal time before entering the doorway home and being welcome by the girl. It’s an instant solace for my mind and a warranted ease in my being. The doubts and worries of the day are just trumped and disregarded, where my mind toiled in whilst driving home.
It’s just perfect.
So now, as I’m about to set foot home, bag on back and key in lock; I can’t wait for the embrace and kiss that welcomes this tired being.
The distance mocks him, as he enchantingly stares at the horizon, the sky shifts colours as the long day fades away slowly. He is wondering about her, imagining her presence, desiring her and counting the hours before dissecting himself from the separation and losing himself within her arms. Never before had he known what it was to miss anyone as much as he missed her, to love so abundantly and exhaustively; like anything else that ever has eventuated ceases to even exist or register as a blip in his radar.
But what occurs to him unwittingly and strikes quickly, in that moment of his despair and contemplation, is how she thinks. If she was there with him, she would casually remind him of the world they exist in. To savour their time and the beauty they interact with so casually and without qualms. She would sit next to him admiring the sun fade it’s light for the day through a kaleidoscope of triumphant colours. And she would sit there happily, just admiring, not saying a single word, smirking as the glow lights her delicate features and maybe chuckle in delight a sound which would warm him. He would glance over and just be without thought and simply happy, lost in her beauty and joy, lost in the moment and awake.
At that point, he watched the final moments of the sunset, where the orb of light dissolves behind the horizon and fades the sky into the night, thoughtless and full of a perfected hope. As the stars slowly peered through the sheet of remaining daylight, he picked himself up and walked away, content in the thought of his love and luck. He then began to count the steps and kilometers before he found himself hopelessly lost in her eyes again.
To you, my friend, I can honestly be your guide to heartbreak.
I can humbly and proudly show you my scars, the many tales of woe that shocked my heart and being. I’ll show you those moments where I should have known better, but chose to follow my lust, lose myself and properly follow my heart. I can definitely dictate a lesson in how a human can fall from a great height and come to meet his maker. I can show you the the bottom floor, where a human dwells within his own thoughts so easily, it’ll be like a detailed map of the arteries of our city.
I can honestly show you it all.
But after that lesson in how you fall to pieces, I can tell you how to piece yourself up better than before. It’s in my nature. It can also be yours too, my friend.
The world as you would see it right now, is at it’s worst. But rest assured, that this is the beginning
I’ve learnt my lessons and I had paid my dues, and I created myself from the ground up. I am now the man I chose to be, the one I am proud of, the man that I imagined I would become when I was younger.
All I can say at this point is keep your mind, my friend, even if you feel you’ve lost your heart. Your heart may be missing, but you’ll find it again, maybe when you least expect it. It’ll inspire you to live yet again, maybe to sing, maybe to laugh, maybe to write. Just hang in there. Trust me.
Give it time. It’ll be all right in the end. And if it isn’t right, then it isn’t the end yet.
“That summer eve his heart was light
With lighter step he trod the ground
And life was fairer in his sight
And music was in every sound
He blessed the world where there could be
So beautiful a thing as she”—Taken from ‘THE THREE SUNSETS’ by Lewis Carrol, 1861
He sits on the train, watching the outside world blur by quickly, he feels like he is on a time machine whizzing through important events in existence looking for the targeted day, time and event. Unfortunately that day, time and event is work at 9am. He is dressed in his regular attire, a tailored suit that is double breasted, in black with very fine crimson stitchings, black thin tie and a white cuff linked shirt. He sits with his backpack on his lap, within it is the items he finds more important, his books, his music and his camera. He is currently sitting alone, but he is waiting for the moment where the train is filled up like a sardine can of humans, and he can see her again. Her? The girl for him. His ideal partner in crime, his Bonny to his own Clyde.
The train stops at Strathfield, and the moshpit of humans cram in accordingly. They all look smart in their fine attire, yet not, as they are all squashed in asses to elbows commuting to work. But that’s fine, he understands, it’s what you got to do to earn a living. And that is when he sees her. Standing on the stairwell at the end of the carriage, she is dressed in obscure corporate attire, tight red jeans, white shirt, black thin tie and a silver coat, but that was matched with her long black hair, smooth skin and speechless features. She steals his breath away and heartbeats every time he notices her. He imagines a life with her, running through the beaches of Tijuana Mexico, jet hopping to Europe and kissing her at the Arc Du Triomphe in France and carrying her home through the steeple just to make her laugh, smile and be welcomed home. But, that won’t happen, unless he talks to her.
He’s tried to get her attention, but the train is full and hard to circumnavigate past social faux-pas to profess love. He tried leaving notes; they were picked up by the cleaners. He tried to wait standing up in the doorways for her to board and strike up a conversation; but that never worked with all the throws of sardine humans stacking in asses to elbows. He tried using the commuter newspaper to leave a message, but after reading things like;
“2 da sxy guy wit dredlckd hair ridin da train from Wollstonecraft, we shud get a drink sumtime ;) - Sxy Pants NS”
He decided that that is a dumb idea and he didn’t want to cheapen how he feels about this buxom stranger. He tried to go tech on it all, and turned on his Bluetooth receiver on his phone and track her down, and send her a message, but that idea was quickly quashed… Because he manage to creep himself out, let alone creep out the woman of his dreams also (hypothetically). I don’t think the best way to start a conversation with her is with the remark “Dude, what the fuck?!”.
His station was coming round and he proceeded to an exit. He’ll figure it out, he thought, and sauntered depressingly away. He got off the train and walked towards the automatic gates of Central station. He then saw that she was a few paces in front of him, his goddess, mining through her bag furiously for her train ticket, whilst walking to the gates. She didn’t notice, but in the confusion of it all, she dropped her scarf. That scarf made its way to the floor, landed and emanated a halo with angels singing within his mind.
This was the moment he was asking for quite some time! This was it!
He would scoop up the scarf and tap her on the shoulder and say something smart and funny and she would say something like “Hey, you’re that guy on the train who left me notes and decided not to track me down via Bluetooth! Did you want to go to Mexico with me?”. Oh man, that would be fucking amazing he thought.
Let’s go for it!
It’s going to happen! Let’s pick up her sca…
But in the haste of it all, where he escaped into his mind and dreamt of her yet again, someone else snatched up her scarf and gave it to her, right in front of his eyes.
Maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow, he told himself.
The embers burn slowly as the fire exhausts itself out, it’s a cold night underneath the scattered veil of stars. The words spoken are distractions to seeing their breath, like think plumes of white smoke erupting from within their lungs. They’ve been awake for hours, the pair of them, discussing everything, conversing so easily that it seemed nothing was overlooked. Except for the very obvious though. Night has forced them closely together, sharing light and stories, warmth is what they have as well as common comfort, and they truly both desire the night to have no end at all.
Yet in a few hours, as scheduled to some, the sky will paint a story otherwise.
Their clothing has the aroma of the fire that is fading, and their bodies have a yearning that fails to contain; A flint of what it is to be alive. She slides her hand up his back. A pulse of energy hits his spine and clenches his fingertips slightly, he cannot contain how it makes him feel, he truly loves her… Ever since the very first moment they met.
"Can I tell you something?" he asks sheepishly, lowering his head slightly, as though the weight of the question itself hangs on his skull and applies pressure to his neck.
"Go ahead" she responds sweetly, gazing towards him, as he stares towards the fire. She doesn’t mean to, but she cannot resist hanging onto the lingering moment, as though this very moment will change the very fabric of her existence as she knows it.
There are words to be said. He knows it. But he just can’t figure out how to say them. He’s worried about saying them wrong, about their context being confused, about the premise being misaligned, about the devastation that may arise, about an existence without knowing she is in it. “Well… Umm.. I” the words he had known within himself and rehearsed time and time again are failing him, leaving a mind blank and verging on panicking.
She gazes towards him, the fire reflecting tones of light on his features that she feels compelled, mesmerised even, to just look at for as long as she deems normal… Before looking away and back again. She knows she feels the same way as he does, except she can’t think of the words at all. She is certain that he adores her, as she adores him, except… Oh man, how can she find out? Is this the moment? Fuck. She feels flustered and confused, still lingering on what he has to say. It’s been ongoing, something that can’t contain any moment longer.
"Umm… Well, I really lov…"
He finally said something. But it was too late. She crash tackled him off the bench that they were sitting on and lovingly kissed him, throwing her body into an embrace that pins his whole chest to the lush ground behind them. Shocked, he didn’t know how to respond at first, but eventually realisation hit… And he embraces her back through the fit of passion.
The night draws to an end, as the sun comes up slowly, radiating the fields with warmth. They interlude for a brief instant, she watches the sun rise, he watches her. The memory etches itself into his mind, like a tattoo to skin, the moment where he felt love overwhelm him undeniably. She feels just about the same, just more ecstatic that she managed to tackle a guy to the ground for once in her life… Just as she had pictured it a thousand times, and she was glad he was that guy.
Each breath, is shallow.
So shallow that his rib cage doesn’t even rise and fall as per normal. So he just continues to lie down, staring at the ceiling whilst unconsciously looking into the abyss. Each spot on the ceiling reminds him of the complexities of the universe, like that unique spot of black on egg shell white walls could be another universe, like how he alone could be a spot on a wall in some other guys house in the universe somewhere. Instantly he feels insignificant, and weak. It’s too dramatic to say as much, but he feels like he is close to death, though he coughs harshly and blurs that thought out of his mind.
He’s just heartbroken, that’s all; he dictates to himself. He has been in this state for a very long amount of time, to which three seasons passed by almost too quickly. Loneliness and heartbreak, he ponders, is what he has and hates to welcome around.
What a dictation, a semi-transparent revelation of human ineptitude.
A dictation that really seems to resonate loudly within himself, like the waves of a large bell that was just struck, it reverberates this force for quite sometime with no sign of decaying.
He slumps over and turns to his side, finally catching a large cold gust of air into his lungs and looks to the side of the bed where she would usually be. A sigh expelled quickly from him, as he brushes his hand across a ghost silhouette of her frame.
He misses her deeply.
The concept of the universe is then dispelled, the world is small; so very small indeed, since he only desires the plot of existence that really mattered to him, the tender embrace of the one.
Memories flood and attack him. The precious moments drenched in sunlight of a time where he felt alive. Her laugh. Her smile. Her eyes. Her unique ways with the world… He adored it and horribly missed it. She was it.
“She’ll be back, if i want her. And I… I really do. I just need to get up” he chokes out whilst stiffing harsh tears that stung his nostrils.
He was right.
What he needed was to fight the atrophy and rust that settled on him after she left that fateful day, and shake off the cobwebs of his defeat and become a new man;
The man she once fell in love with.
Because if there ever was anything worth reawakening, it’s the pursuit of love with a destined soulmate. The butterflies when he sees her. The energy of their first kiss.
He didn’t know where the burst of life came from, but he liked it, he threw away his decrepit old self and casually ran a bath and had a shave.
- heart missing?
(Wow. No idea where this came from, but recently I’ve been re-reading a book called “Incendiary” [Chris Cleave] about a woman who loses her family, and I think that has a great amount to do with this latest post)
Conversation wasn't fleeting, it just wasn't necessary
It’s 6:48pm in the evening. I have found myself sprawled awkwardly on the couch, my head is anchored on the armrest, my back is sinking into the couch and my legs are planted on the floor. I fell onto the couch in this position out of exhaustion from lack of sleep and an attempt to dispel time by hopefully catching a quick nap before having to drive to work. Alas, sleep wasn’t willing to wash over me, as I am exhausted but not tired.
So I just laid there. Just thinking and not moving. My body felt like it was a series of rusted and heavy cables that push a machine around, and it was failing and has fallen into a position to forever remain. I felt just like that, a gutted machine with no urge for repair or movement.
She came from the kitchen and sat on the end of the couch, the part that remains not hijacked from the failed machine that I called my body. She resided and ate, and conversed. I found it hard to continue conversation, the rust that took over my body also took over my mind also. So I just lied there and listened and awkwardly hummed what was answers that made no sense at all.
She came along and planted herself next to me on the couch, within the space that was left, and just embraced me.
No words were spoken at all.
Conversation wasn’t fleeting, it just wasn’t necessary.
I still felt like my physical state was close to having death wash over me, but I knew at that exact moment that I was lucky, happy and hopelessly in love with this girl.
The cityscape looks dynamic and surreal, a mess of infrastructure amassed into buildings that scrape the skies easily. The shadows cast during the day collect within the canyons at street level, sweeping an odd cold even on the hottest days. Lit up each night it emanates a halo, it resembles something similar to a macrocosm of success; a value of humanities triumph over centuries of endeavors, a triumph over the grass and nature. Yet the city itself isn’t the buildings, the very buildings that overpower and crush all who dare look upon from the ground-floor of civilisation. No, the buildings remain just the structures, mere stages for the actors who live, breathe and act out stanzas amongst it.
Within these streets I walk, and look upon these spectacles. I feel like another face among the crowd, nothing special and sacred, just another being walking from point A to B. Another actor partaking in the cities finest act, another day in the modern world. The first acts I push through, never minding the ebb and flow of this life and how it truly revolves. Yet, my mind can’t shake the feeling of it all being superficial and unrealistic, even if it is reality and the life we had all chosen. The act is coming to a close, and I choose not to be part of it. I feel the revolt within my being, yet never really decided to take the plunge.
Lives have a tendency to phase out when ignored or pursued without intent, and this trap I almost fell into the cracks with, casually wasting the days into obscurity whilst perusing the bleak streets of this city stage. Luckily for me, I’ve been awoken from the perpetual haze that had descended on me, and escaped from the stage show that was my life and this city. It would be contrary to believe that I was given another chance, but that’s exactly what it was. A new opportunity to shake the callouses that set over my impedance, and to set forth in a new direction within the stage of this city. Could it be luck? No. It was love. I’m sure of it, as I had fallen and chosen never to pull myself back up again.
She took my hand and showed me something that I missed. She is confident and curious, a refreshing perspective on amazement and knowledge itself. She showed me things that I had ignored and forgotten among my world and her own. The angles of reflection, the depths of passion within the streets, the calm of leaving it all. It was the world that I explored and came to enjoy and adore. Something free. Something truly unique.
I was given a new chance to live, away from the spectacle, the one she led me to.
Early in the morning, a motorist is looking like a madman.
This morning, I’ve just had fleeting thoughts of my 10 year high school reunion. I’m definitely looking forward to the characters that welded themselves together at an institution of mutual boredom, since we’re all the same formula of inmates at a place that was not entirely dissimilar to that of a mental ward. And all those characters casually found their ways into my heart. Oddly what followed this thought pattern was the conversations in relation to “What have you been doing these past 10 years?”
I was deep in conversation, driving to work before the sun rises, with no-one at all. I was rambling off everything I had accomplished and achieved, I was dictating my exploits and near misses, my failures and my successes. I was philosophising about the future and what I plan from the ashes of what I had created. If anyone was driving beside me, they would just see a guy having an upbeat conversation with no-one at all and automatically assume that he’s almost crazy. Almost, that’s a laugh.
Yet, I feel that if I was asked what I’ve been doing these past few years, I’ll gladly answer with “making dumb mistakes before making the best one in my whole entire life”. Could it be about love? Could it be about life? Could it be about happiness? It’s about all of the above. Either way, at this point in my existence, is the most positive and ideal moment…
And in all reality, that’s all anyone should really know, right?
- Heart missing?
And again, sorry about the time between posts, I’ve been both busy and hilariously lazy. Forgiveness please?
This woman is amazing, the apple of my eye, the yin to my yang and the reason why I have springs in my steps. She is an incredible talent, and you should know this too, so give this site a click. Go-on!
Awake and by her side, after a long night of hazed depth perception, where the drink becomes the social lubricant of conversation and inevitably the pains in my stomach and inner ear. She didn’t need to, and she could have been very welcome at getting angry at the drunk that was her partner, but she stayed with me and tried to make me feel better at the moment where being pleasantly drunk becomes a sobering mess. She was something else. She became the one at the time of need.
She now lays asleep next to me whilst I type this right now, and I should feel sorry for the state I’m in from the over drinking, but it is the choice I made. It is the bed I made and the one I lie in, yet she slumbers next to me and still makes me feel like the lucky drunk with the open bar tab.
The person whom I was was very particular with who I allow to see me at my worst, my most vulnerable, and if I could I would welcome any opportunities for it to remain that way. Yet now, it is something different, I make the exceptions to the right people and easily ask for help when needed. But last night I didn’t ask for help, but she still gladly gave it. And I hope that in my drunken way I let her know that it was very much appreciated, even if it was in drunken slurred torrents of broke words.
I guess the moral to it all is that the right people aid and assist you in the times of need without even asking. Or maybe the moral is to maybe slow it down with the alcohol. Either way, I still feel lucky, even in the moments of perpetual inebriated hazes, since I have her by my side to hold my hair up…
Last night, I had a bizarre dream. It was just strange in all aspects and incredible because of its tinge of hyper-realism.
It began from a fade up from black, and it was located within a supermarket within the fruit section. I was shopping with my mother, father and sister; the beginning of the feeling of oddness as this would hardly ever happen to begin with. We were discussing things that are just inaudible in garbled language, yet it made perfect sense. But then my father, a strong man with a programmed mindset from the 50’s bellowed out to my sister “love does not exist and YOU are living a lie!”. The words from such a sentence stammer across and shock my sister immediately, rendering her speechless and visibly upset, as she would be someone who believes the opposite and lives it as well. I instantly then step towards my father and grab him by the scruff of his shirt, and slam him into a nearby refrigerator stand and sternly get a finger pointed directly into his puzzled face. I was incredibly mad with such an outrageous statement and obviously I took it out in the best way my dream self could, with violence. I then looked my father directly in the eye and said;
- How dare you say such a thing to your daughter? A product of love and the life you have with your wife? What do you think you were trying to achieve by being this mean and cold hearted?
- HOW DARE YOU DO THI…
- LET ME FINISH! Even if you don’t believe in love, doesn’t
mean you have to destroy someone else’s feelings about it, especially your own daughter! And not only that, love is the only thing that keeps this fucked up world from destroying itself entirely, so you better get your mind straight before saying stupid crap like that again!
I push him away and he then falls to the floor taking some produce with him that were on the shelves. Whilst the vegetables were falling and bouncing around him as he fell to the floor, the dream faded down into black. End scene and back to sleeping and dreaming about whatever.
That was an odd moment in my head, I’m sure there is an interpretation about it all, but it seems apparent that I would gladly go to war for the notion of keeping love alive.