The eyes are the window to the soul, they say. And not to sound stereotypical or over the top, but the soul you possess would be the ocean I found myself overwhelmed in, the one that I float and sway to the rhythm to. Pardon the words, they have the best of intentions, even if they do sound quite over the top, but really it is your own fault. How was I to resist the mind you possess, the words you craft and the soul… Oh, that soul. The soul that feels like it envelopes my concept of reality with a security none rivalled nor matched, that soul which you possess.
So pardon me once again for staring too long and stating the obvious, but those eyes are the gateway to your soul that I love and adore.
It was a year ago today where I was struggling with what might have been the disorganised mess I arguably called my life. Turmoil and chaos really had a hold of me in such a way, that I truly believed my life was not even worth the breathing space.
But what was a bit idiotic of me was my pride, even when things were really going to shit, I still said everything was fine.
Today is the exact opposite. I feel like my life has purpose and meaning, and that I feel like I am living. I do have a great deal of people to thank, as they really stood beside me when things were at it’s worst and picked me up whenever I was struggling to stand on my own two feet.
Coincidently, today is “R U OK?” day. And today I am. Last year I wasn’t. So maybe today, just ask anyone and everyone how they are doing, because under every surface there may be someone struggling to figure shit out. And don’t stop at a day, make it a common occurrence. Ask away, because in reality, no-one would turn down an ear that is willing to listen in their hour of need.
The definition misses the emotion felt.
An attraction that swells from charm,
Which may start from something primal:
A look. A touch. A kiss.
The molecular properties resemble science,
But everything else? It’s undefined, really.
Is it a series of disconnected ends joining?
Or the explosive collision of two worlds?
I don’t know at all.
All I really know is where my heart meanders,
And where I’d rather reside for good:
Within the happiness that bonds forth,
Between the collision of our worlds.
The clothes are folded and neatly placed within a gym bag, it will be the clothes I’ll use for the next few weeks. It is then loaded into a car that has seen better days and has been aged heavily with every new kilometre added. Everything else is folded and placed to lay dormant in a tallboy cabinet at my parents place. I’ve been crashing and sleeping on a futon bed that folds out of a couch at my sisters house with a razor thin mattress, and maybe occasionally I spend a night with the grrrl on my bed that is in her room. Most of my belongings have spent the last few months in boxes, and have been screened for what can be turfed and what would be valuable to maintain until I find a new place to call home. Anything else just gets dealt with swiftly, almost callously; if important it is to be kept, if it isn’t… it is then disposed of.
This ritual has been the lifestyle I’ve led for the past 9 or more months now.
I guess it stemmed from the ideal of the heart and the partnership that it perches with the home, and how it easily became disconnected and a burden, rather than a form of joy or comfort. I thought I found a home, a place my old battered heart in a young exterior could enjoy the stereotype, but I was wrong. So incredibly wrong. A bitter judgement made through crimson glasses and a mindset of lust proved that error. The dream that most folk had of owning their slice of paradise in the form of bricks and cement was what I signed up for at the tender age of 23, and no more than three years later I was fighting tooth and nail to find the freedom that I once took for granted with a heavy burden that came with a battered ego and a very broken heart.
That freedom was eventually granted, but not without a fight, soul search, realisation and patience.
Sure, this entry is truly convoluted and very thin in context, since the story is one that is truly a very hard odyssey to begin to describe (which I will one day tell, consider this a sneak preview I suppose?). But what I can pass on; is that home really is where the heart is, and even though I am currently homeless (in some form or another) I have not lost the heart that I have with those who are truly my family, friends and soul-mates. Hence with that in mind, I extend that notion and let you know that I still don’t have a concrete address, but I do have a home with the heart I patched up again.
Sure, this is a blog about love, romance and the meticulous ways a heart can flutter and attack our lives (a hopeless romantic, being hopeless with romance… if you will). And so to write a birthday message about my best pal should be a welcome addition, even though we’re brothers in arms and not linked romantically… that’s ok, right?! Right! This guy, Tony (right center of the photo), is very close to my heart, as I’ve known him for almost 10 years now and that he saved me in several ways that I owe my life to. I’ll get him a gift that I hope is epic, but for now, this is the message I’ve dumped onto his FB page:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TONY FUCKING KAY! What can I say or wish to my brother on his birthday to make it fucking epic? I have no idea, but lets hope your day begins with a crap load of new guitar gear being stuffed into your tiny shack of a green room and locking you in with awesome, and after you managed to MacGyver your way out, you have to manoeuvre around the elaborately made tier cakes that are littered all over your floors from the front door to the back. After you managed to eat your way to freedom and entered your car, I hope you then drive to what may be the single most greatest party ever known to man. This party will have everyone you know dancing a hot shoe shuffle, heavily tattooed burlesque dancers slapping people in faces with bountiful boobilages, churning heavy metal bands playing a violent form of JUN JUN that will make you weep in joy and all playing on-top of the greatest pile of gifts with your name on it. Holy crap dude, you may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one who wishes you get all this. So, Happy Birthday Tony, cheers for being the greatest friend known to man, and an even bigger cheer for being an awesome brother to another mother. HOLY CRAP BURGERS! THAT’S EPIC!
I think all it missed was a hug and an awkward moment of saying “I love you, man”. But I’m sure the next time I’ll see him that will happen, since we’re not afraid of weirding each other out. Either way, and with that in mind, I find that everyone should have a close friend on this level, that they can spill their guts too and take solace in thought and commonality, so that it breaks up the monotony of existence and cuts reality into fun sized ribbons. Tony is one of those friends. So happy 27th Tony, stay awesome, stay sassy, stay kick-ass!
“Love, she thought, must come suddenly, with great outbursts and lightnings,—a hurricane of the skies, which falls upon life, revolutionises it, roots up the will like a leaf, and sweeps the whole heart into the abyss.”—excerpt from Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
The cats eyes blur into a single line on the freeway to the coast, the night has swallowed everything with darkness and the only thing cutting through are the headlights on the road ahead and the abandonment of logic. The road is fast, curvy and unforgiving; but I forget it easily, as a song churns on my stereo and reminds me of her. The grrrl. The woman. My mind casts an image of her, meeting my gaze with her own. Her brown eyes hypnotising, and her lips inviting.
This day was spent well by her side, but it would have been greater falling asleep in her grasp. My mind keeps thinking thoughts like this whilst it should focus on the road ahead, as the road machinates into a distant memory.
I end up in bed an hour later with my thoughts as company, and it occurs to me that the road was quickly forgotten, solely as my mind was on her.
I wonder what she is up to now. Is she thinking of me? Do I bend time for her?
Distance makes the heart grow fonder, and time has a tendency to slip away in the process.
Blood, bone, skin and life;
She owns what it contains.
A specimen known that beats,
Tourniquets by her desire,
Remains in her possession for now;
For good, and for as long as it takes.
Calcified to the depths of my being,
She could own it all, as it is…
Just blood bone skin and life.
The 6th of August was freaking slow to roll around this year, but it still made it. The year was just an absolute grudge match with grenade gloves and no referee, but I somehow made it through unscathed and lucky in so many ways. So a celebration was needed, and what better time than my 27th birthday. Heaps of booze was bought, food was thought of, crappy fairy lights were strung up and a gas heater was borrowed to keep the masses warm. The place didn’t need decorating at all, since it was at my sisters apartment with an outdoor terrace and seating area, it already had flair and style that no other place could match or beat. Music wasn’t programed or given to a band or DJ, because of this:
People were spilling in and enjoying everything; the music was cranking and dancing was just inevitable. Someone brought a strobe light and were throwing the dice about on the make shift dance floor in the middle of the living room. Outside people were lounging near the heater, and on outdoor couches, chewing the fat and creating more of that buzz that I couldn’t believe would perch on that rooftop. A late night jam was had after the ice-breaker song of “Maniac on the dance floor” was performed by my sister and her boyfriend. The night was electric and it was alive.
So many thanks go out to everyone, for the messages, the hugs, the kisses, the gifts and the vibes; it was by the greatest party that ever happened in the whole entire existence of my life (to the point that number #55 [throw one hell of a raging party…] was crossed off). For me, it was more than a party, it was a full circle return to a freedom I once had taken for granted, and never again neglect. Hence a massive big fuck off thank-you times a billion go to:
The grrrl, Pat, Mo, Jesse, Tony “Fucking” Kay, Stefano, Dans Pies, Montana Velvetthighs, Kev, Matt, Holey Jam, Charlie Craig, Tash, Shaun, Becky, Anthony, Dani Strobelight, Seth Strobelight, James, Matthias, Lea, Ceyda, Eds, Karthick, Jamal, Priscilla, Monica, Gen, Unkle Petey and eveyone that messaged called and fb’d. You people are amazingly beautiful creatures that I am super lucky to share this existence with. Stay the hell sassy.
I wake up in the darkness, and stumble around to locate my clothes that are strewn all over her room. Its 4:22am and I’m getting ready to head to work. I try my damn well hardest not to make noise, I calculate my steps, I breathe slowly, hold my arms out to find walls and plot out where I thought my clothes once were.
She is stirring in her sleep, just softly, but each time she does, I freeze in an instant, and stare at her, hoping she didn’t wake at all.
I slink my clothes on slowly, and hopefully without any noise. Zips were fastened slowly so they don’t make that regular furling rip sound, and buttons were plonked together within my hands to not make any strange clicks. I made sure not to wake her at all. It was my mission.
"…er… you can turn the light on" she says from her sleepy daze, with her arm limply shifting towards her lamp. "It’s OK; Hun, I’m already dressed, just go get some more sleep". Damn. I thought I was a rogue ninja, who’s mission was to covertly change into a civilian in complete silence.
I then whisper a goodbye, and kiss her several times on her forehead, before leaving for the dark cold outside. My shoes slop through the early morning frost, and soak the canvas whilst I awkwardly shuffle sleepily through my pockets looking for my keys. My phone then chimes, it was a message:
Toodles early bird xoxo
It was way too early for her to be such a lovely morning person, and I sure as hell knew it. It was was too early for her to be sweet and kind, but she did so anyway. My reply:
I’m keen to flex my writing muscles, it’ll involve punishing my brain meats into a fine grey pulp of creative goo, and feeding it into a word processor and trying to create something worthwhile. Would it be worthy? Can it be done? What is the first step to some form of success? What is the last step before failure?
The concept? Exactly like this blog but more in depth. Stemming from the concept of a hopeless romantic being hopeless with romance to… Well, we’ll see.
I really don't mind making an absolute fool of myself...
At the book launch from two nights ago, I was holding onto a Canon 7D with a mammoth lens on it standing next to a broncolor light watching my girl mingle with the other women mentioned in her book, when I was approached by a young woman asking if I was one of the event photographers; to which I bumbled:
Oh? No, well yeah, I mean I do dabble in photography. But Jess is the photographer, I’m her girl. Shit! I mean, I’m her guy! Well, yeah, I’m the cherry on top…
The stranger burst into loud hearty laughter to which I did as well, how could you not? I then just thought of myself as a hilarious idiot, casually enjoying embarrassing myself with no regard to anything else what-so-ever. Nice work awkward mind, well played.
The elf, the grrrl, the woman, the better-half looks deep into my eyes with sheer terror and shock. They are slightly red, trying to slide away from weeping and darting around desperately trying to comprehend what the hell just happened. I am beside myself, panic is gripping my mind like a cold claw sinking it’s talons into my grey matter. She squeezes my hands strongly whilst she quickly exhales breaths through her semi-winded lungs as she groans in pain about what just happened. Her friend Dani was quick to help, as she raced to her and began examining the damage, whilst applying pressure to her newly formed bruise that appeared on the right side of the grrrrls crown. Dani’s boyfriend Seth was also quick to respond, assisting Dani seamlessly, whilst injecting some comedy to diffuse the already hectic situation. It was working, as under the surface of all of us, we were absolutely shitting fucking bricks!
It’s a common thing though, falling over at full speed on a longboard, hurtling down a parking lot down-ramp, only to meet a death wobble and be thrown into oblivion at the very bottom. Right? I would like to believe so. That moment is now so deeply embedded into my subconscious, that it replays at nausea so frantically every time I close my eyes. And without a doubt, it made me think. I thought about all the times I came home with my wrists sprained, ankles swollen, skin torn and bones broken…. And not worry at all about the feelings of my loved ones, as I fought to survive another day being a teenage punk rebel. They witnessed a great deal, and I never knew the feeling that they would feel each and everytime.
Well… Until today.
The grrl is in good spirits, but she can’t move so fast. Her head is sore and her tailbone was luckily bruised and not fractured. The whole moment of her collision with gravity had torn open a massive wound within me, where I feel I need to try to protect and help her as much as I can, but all I can do is what I can… Even if it is for now nursing her back to health. Maybe I feel partially to blame, but I sure as anything can empathise greatly. But at least I gained a new perspective that makes me feel like I need to apologise to all those I love, that I really managed to place a great deal of stress on everyone for being so destructive. Jeez, what a pain I was (and still am)!
I’m just really beyond and shadow of doubt glad that she is ok, and fighting fit to see another day.
If she doesn't know, then she sure as hell know's now!
We were driving to her house, just to pick up a few items before retreating to my abode. We were fresh from dinner and driving over the Anzac bridge listening to Owen Pallett and Primary, talking about how much has changed in both of our lives over the last few months. It was a conversation that resulted from dinner that continued to the very moment as we were driving over one of the greatest landmarks Sydney has to offer.
The very core truth to it all, was that she took an incredible risk months ago in wanting to partake in our relationship, since where I was hailing from, the past was rocky and financially catastrophic (I’ll fill you in on the saga soon my fellow follower). But once past that hurdle, we have something we both felt so privileged to contain that it became something godly and completely out of this world. So on the way back to her house, in her car, I thought it was the right moment to express my gratitude.
- “Thank-you baby-doll, for it all. I know that a very long time ago you really took a great risk when it came to us, and I know the situation that I was in was a difficult one to endure. But you endured it all, and you were perfect in all ways. You were sympathetic, patient, calm, relaxed, vibrant and ideal at every chance you could be. I know that if you were someone else, you could have been the exact opposite, but you weren’t. You were the right woman for me at each and every moment. And I guess that’s what makes you the grrrl. So, yeah, thank-you”
I really couldn’t describe any truer words without being an absolute blouse, but I felt I made my feelings heard. And sure as hell if she didn’t know then, she sure as hell knows now!
He is at the bank, waiting for his turn to be announced from the automated cue system. His number is one away from being served, and he waits patiently on a flat red recliner. In his hands he has a ticket and a loan release form, filled with financial jargon that his mind cannot properly digest without shrieking for help, something that really isn’t ever in his scope of interest at all. Yet he feels like as if he is on the precipice of being free, to begin a life that he deserves, and the only thing that is holding him back is the very form he contains in his hands.
A bell tolls within the bank, “B 15-12 please proceed to counter….2” exclaims the automated system over loud speakers contained in the ceiling of the branch. He gets up and walks towards the counter where he is met with a bank teller. She is young, most probably in her late 20’s, with hair that is pinned back into a bun and thick glasses in a contemporary frame perched upon the tip of her nose. A professional look amidst a place that quietly extrudes financial dominance.
"Hi, how can I help you?" she asks casually and formally.
"Oh… Yeah, hi, I have this form that I need to fill out, but I’m really stuck, I was hoping you guys could help me out" he asks sheepishly, embarrassed by the situation he has found himself in.
"OK, so this document is to cancel your home-loan account? On what grounds is your loan going to be settled?" the teller asks.
He describes it all, how the defacto relationship he endured spawned a crazy move of buying a house, and that one party is now buying out the other in what might be the only reasonable thing from an unreasonable relationship, one that he never wishes upon anyone, not even his enemies. And finally he describes calmly that this form is the only matter that is holding up the legal process of his freedom; “Uh huh…” she says, slightly perplexed from the situation.
"This must be the hardest part of the whole situation, having to file such paperwork and having to deal with the legalities?" she asks.
He replies almost jokingly and quickly, “I thought the hardest part was having to move all my things out! Do you know how much removalists cost?” She snaps her head up from the paperwork with a slightly shocked look on her face, “Oh….I am so sorry!” she exhales embarrasingly with a hand over her mouth. He is starting to joke about the car accident which was his life a year ago, and it felt good, since now he can move forward to face better days. The lowest point was far behind now, and the highest points are just about to be reached, and he knows within his heart and soul that life is giving him the second chance he needed.
“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect – you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break – her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.”—Bob Marley
I’m not one for shameless plugs, but when it comes to the grrrl; exceptions can be made. Well, if you hadn’t known already, you must know now, that I’m lucky enough to spend time with a really talented individual that is probably one of the most amazing photographers to ever grace this side of the freaking planet. Check out her new blog, it won’t disappoint at all.
She casually slinks into the bedroom, with a liquid rhythm of pure seduction. Wearing a black silk evening gown, with an open back, revealing the soft porcelain skin she possesses under what is usually covered in regular attire. He holds his breath ever so slightly as she burned a beautiful memory into his head, in slow motion, as she enters the room. He was trying to knot his tie in front of the mirror in a different way, the full Windsor, rather than the regular askew half Windsor he clumsily and easily creates. This was his 9th attempt and he is close to giving up. But he’s now stopped in his tracks, as he was hypnotised by her entry. She slides up behind him, and places her chin on his shoulder, she casually slips her fringe behind her ear and plants a soft kiss on his cheek.
"Shhh. Let it be", she whispers into his ear. He felt like his heart fell into a pit of pure warmth as soon as those words entered his world, it left him smitten and love drunk. She embraces him, one hand under his arm and the other around his neck and shoulder, and then slowly slides up to his neck.
She unties the broken knot his tie is locked in, and begins to casually make the tie so perfectly.
He can’t help but feel stunned that she did this so easily, and better yet, so sensually. He turns around to face her, where she meets him with a kiss. He reciprocates, kissing her cheeks and soft lips. His hands then slowly grace her back and fiddles with the zip located at base of her hips.
They embrace, as he slips off his tie and places it on the bed head, still tied up for his own sake.
They once mourned their personas openly, toiled over the open wounds that were cut profusely to the core. Two individuals that only desired to live and love within the limits of their endless beings, but were unfortunate in being led down the paths of dismayed connection.
"We all endure such chaos at the worst of times, only to return hopefully to the best…" he ponders, hoping the universe wouldn’t frown upon him in a way so un-relentless.
She questioned love. She questioned the institutions that merit said love. She remained awake and hoping that love will once again awaken her soul in a manner she always wanted.
They found one another, amidst the clutter and chaos this world does envelope. Who are they to worry anymore, as the battles they faced and defeated in their pasts are no longer a burden to endure in their future. As fate intervened and made them meet halfway, yet it was up to them to welcome one another.
They were learned in the ways of the heart, as they were veterans of countless battles and wars, yet they felt for once, that they could drop their defences…
This morning, he set foot out into the open city, the sky was still grey and the rain was still constant upon the throws of people commuting, but it didn’t bother him at all. He was awake and amongst the flow of life, and enjoying what it is to breathe freely, to welcome passion and warmth into his being.
He completely understood the feeling of freedom, and it energised his being and it set him on a path through the people smiling brightly. He was aware of the gifts he has been given, to live, to love, to pursue the greater things… and it was not being set to waste, even on a day like today.
Nothing could bring him down, nothing at all.
And all it took, was just the legalities and protocol filed promptly through the judicial system.
Either way, he knew freedom is well within his grasp…
I find that romance is slowly dying, if people think that wanting to get intimate with someone involves lewd pictures being sent from modern devices.
If those few who send away their naked frames across to some unwilling sap spent near enough time being chivalrous, maybe then they wouldn’t need to resort to sexts.
But you know, at least then political careers won’t get destroyed… Am I right?
We both burned through this book easily. She did it on vacation, I did it months ago between sagas. And as a result we’ve been having fun with top-5 lists, as an ode to Rob and his Championship Vinyl crew. The day before yesterday it was an impromptu top-5 favourite bands list. Mine consisted of At The Drive-In (grouped with Sparta, Defacto, Sleepercar, The Mars Volta and so on) and Alexisonfire (Grouped with City & Colour, Black Lungs, Attack in Black and so on), hers was Air, Death Cab for Cutie, M Ward which then relinquished into a fevered conversation about how forgetful we are mixed with future choices after this discussion/list. After it all, I know it’s just going to keep growing and eventually set root in this place here, the blog about romance and ways of my heart.
So… Today the list will be:
top 5 songs that I’m assuming we both love:
1: City & Colour - the death of me
2: The Pixies - Gouge Away
3: The Beatles - I Me Mine
4: Primary - In Your Hands
5: New Order - 60 mph
I think I nailed it.
- heart missing?
Late addition: You Are a Tourist - Death Cab for Cutie. Should have made the top5 list, but it’s now a runner up.