Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part One Hundred and Twelve

i stretched my hamstrings as a cheap australian drama droned on the tv the background - someone loves someone - things shouldn’t be so complicated, i thought to myself - it was cold and dark outside, but i didn’t mind - i was used to it - you see, im the weirdo in the dark jacket who walked the streets at night - i am the reason you’re needlessly afraid to walk home at night— but no - not me - i’m harmless

as i opened the front door, a charge of cold air filled my lungs and stung my body - i run old school - short shorts, light singlet, digital watch - i run ten kilometres every night - strangely, i can’t sleep without it - i pushed through the first step, and begun my stride - light and smooth - up and down the suburban streets - the black night and gold street lights providing just enough to give me a sense of where it is i am, and where im going

i smell the warm curry dinners cooking - i smell the woodfires burning - i sense the soup - every now and again, i get a glimpse of the fuzzy neon blue as families watch their cheap australian dramas - there is a great feeling of satisfaction runners like myself experience - its the pumping speed of your legs and the muscles that fuel them, against the calm flow, the patiences and control of the air in your lungs - in, and out, slowly, while your legs move and act like mad-men on the loose, after years in the hole - but nah, there’s nothing going on here - there’s nothing crazy about me

i’ve been chased by dogs - swooped by birds and attacked by ducks - i’ve been spooked by possums, and sure, i’ve done my share of spooking too - i’ve had near misses and close calls - ive given sweet-girl-p-platers stern shakes of the head as they run their red-lights - i’ve puked outside a church, as an alcoholics-anonymous meeting came to a close - i hear the yells from passing cars - some complimentary, most not - i’ve seen it all, while you were sleeping

though there wasn’t much to that night - a lazy moon somewhere, some fading stars struggling against the clouds - i felt good, though i’d be lying if i didnt admit to feeling a little nervous - it was wednesday night, and with each turn, left or right, i was jolted with a thrill knowing i was getting closer - i was on my way - i was heading in the right direction

her house was down a dark tree-lined street, and it was bin night — shrubs and bushes lined her driveway - as i stopped before it, i felt the sweat on my face and shoulders cool and chill - my breath filled the air in front of me, as i walked up the driveway as if i owned the place - its the only way - my nerves held my breath, but i so desperately wanted to breathe - i wanted to breathe the same air she breathes - but for that, i’d have to wait

upon nearing the back gate, i noticed a car lighting up the dark street behind me - knowing the best reaction was to stay calm, i casually opened the back gate and entered the backyard - i thought i’d blown it - i prepared myself to bolt and run away - over the neighbours fence, through their garage and back out onto the opposite street, just as i had seen and planned on google-maps, in case of a situation like this - i waited for the call and question, but nothing came - i crouched in the darkness behind a small tree in the backyard, and turned around to see a young man, delivering a pizza

i heard his knock on the door, and i heard the quick muffled footsteps inside move towards answering it - hearing her movements warmed me - pizza night, i thought to myself, relieved, but still shaken with stiff nerves - no matter how much i strained, i couldn’t hear their exchange - i so desperately wanted to know what kind of pizza she ordered - my head lowered, my eyes closed, but i couldn’t make it out - margarita perhaps? supreme maybe - definitely not bbq-chicken - eventually i settled, thinking margarita made sense - that was her favourite, i could tell - spiced and scented herbs - with a loud thank-you and see-ya later, the pizza-guy stomped back to his car, reversed out the driveway, and drove away - leaving us alone

i swiftly moved to a more secluded bush - the light from the kitchen window lit the backyard up in dim shades - i could barely make out what was in front of me, but that was how i liked it - the element of surprise

the clothes-line was perhaps four meters away from my sanctum, exposed in the centre of the backyard - as though it were on display - parading - a cool night breeze passed over it’s treasures - i watched their movements and took a deep breath - it was fully loaded - i had planned this well, and felt a sense of pride - i took my moment, and i soaked it up - as if moving on instinct alone, i dashed from my leafy den and took to the clothesline - my altar -  my holy grail - my goddess

i pulled out the plastic zip-lock bag from the back of my shorts as i crept - standing up amongst the shirts, skirts and tea-towels, i found myself surrounded by an intoxicating cloud of underpants - bonds were her favourite - i could tell - while i was in the opportunity to gather many pairs, i practised discipline, and snatched the one pair of black bonds with a small pink pattern, and snuffed them into the small plastic bag, fumbling a little as i zip-locked them up

stuffing the bag back down my shorts, i noticed from the corner of my wide eyes, a temptation too strong to ignore - the matching bra - it dangled loosely by one of the straps, the night air moving it gently - dare i? - it would raise suspicion, im sure, but the feeling of recklessness was too strong, and it excited me - so i took it to some next-level-shit

as i tried to calm myself and prepare for the casual walk back to the street, i noticed the shades and shadows morph and move across the grass - from my hiding spot, i looked back towards the house and saw her standing before the kitchen window - she posed, pouted and turned a little, looking at her reflection in the window - she chewed a piece of the pizza slice that she held in her hand - i still couldn’t make out what type it was, but i was determined to find out - i watched her and felt my soul warm and sweeten - she wore the perfect pizza-night pony tail, and a loose fitting shirt - i wondered and imagined hard, thinking about what type of underwear she was wearing that night   at that very moment— though no matter how hard i tried, i couldn’t work it out - i gave up - those will have to wait

arriving home, i stopped my watch and saw that i ran a pretty good time - not surprising, i guess - 4min 40second kilometres over 10km -  inside the heater felt too warm - on the tv a young woman sat on a couch, being consoled by a woman i assumed was her mother - some kind of heart-break i guess

“good run?” my wife asked, sipping on her glass of wine, sitting on the couch

“It was actually - pretty good time - freezing out there though” - i sat down and begun to stretch my legs out - the plastic bag in my shorts made a slight sound, but nothing noticeable

“it’s even freezing in here! i can’t believe you went out tonight” - she had a blanket wrapped around her

“i’m starving” i said - “have we got anything for dinner?”

“there’s some left of lasagne if you want it.”

“nah” i said, standing up to stretch out my calves “lets order a pizza”

Art Intimidating Life - The Ruins of my Mental Empire: Part One Hundred and Eleven

the eternal fucking sadness of a lonesome highschool girl, sitting on a train

its like they’re realising the burden of their gender

due to modern-day-fuckwit men

staring at them from the distant corner

of their crowed-feet-eyes

i think im missing out on all those weird, yet essential, pre-sleep thoughts and visions that may be vital to a healthy human, being - those thoughts that came to people like paul mccartney - but im alseep within a minute of going to bed - i guess i just have those thoughts while lying on the couch watching repeats of the Wire and Breaking Bad

Food for thought - You can’t hide booze in a tight fitting jacket

my latest regret is not eating a piece of birthday cake at my daughters first birthday - at least i didn’t on the day of her party - i just sipped on my beers and allowed everyone else drag her away from me, as though i'd recently watch the new kurt cobain documentary

my other recent regret is one i found after mapping-out a new running route - it went by my old bus stop, the one i walked to when i was always fucking sick on my way to high-school every morning

anyway, before and after, a girl younger than i used to sit at the bus stop and her grandfather used to walk with her and sit with her every morning - he used to talk with her, ask her about what she was doing, being interesting and ultimately give her a…mighty grandpa wave… as her private school bus took off somewhere down towards canterbury, or somewhere up the mountains - he was always so nice to me, and i was at the fucking peak of my teen self-loathing-content-teen-misery - i had no reason to give this old man attitude each morning, other than it was seven-am and i was a fuck-wit teen listening to the cure, or the REM songs that took themselvse too seriously - i was a real prick to that man, and he didn’t deserve it - i was fucking cold - i now run by that bus-stop and imagine his grand-daughter is probably quite switched on, and living happy - i hope he is still alive as i write this - it may soothe some regret i’m stabbed with every time i run past that bus-stop - but probably not - as i always say, you shouldn’t trust anyone who doesnt have any regrets - they are either lying to you, or fucking boring

behind my mind, somewhere happily lost, floats a void heavy with time and history - everything all together all at once - it beams and pulses, powered by it’s own existence - every time we meet, they collide, creating our encounters as they appear to us - significant, only if we don’t think about it too much - people stare, and people talk - i see them from my hiding spot - walking hand in hand through a pointless life - reading newspapers and talking about it - drinking coffee and enjoying the sunshine whenever they can - i retreat to my sanctum, drinking myself through another day - cars moving around - i can’t believe so many people have so much to do - it’s not possible, not really - the pressure we put on ourselves to spend this time and serve this life as best as possible is tiresome - fuck the sunshine - fuck my youth - i think, therefore i am delusional, deranged - Thoughts unsound - The truth is filthy, and natural - the meaning of life is grotesque - if we were to all leave, walk away, what would be have accomplished? - a couple of sky-scrapers and a whole lot of torture, masked a couple of cheap scented candles - rough sex, start a fire - the poets are angry and knocking on your door, and it’s too late - there is nothing we can do, despite the fact every action we take changes everything forever - and if that’s the case, what are the chances we’ll get it right? - giving up is easy, and the right thing to do - lie down, take to the sky and contemplate it - drown all your aspirations in a sea of doubt and despair - the simplest answer i can give you is that it’s okay to be sad, and it makes sense to be so -  there was the captain, drinking with the band as the ship sunk to the depths of hell - one of them anyway - this fucking mirage - bells and wolf-whistles to a whispered generation

oh warm snug - where are you most of the time? - once in a while, in head, sauce, body and soul - something to live for - sports commentors are history makers and sports followers are the war makers 

a man in his late thirties reading a book entitled "the balkans"

a high school girl sitting alone on her phone

and me -

im somewhere in the middle

and i finally fit in perfectly

how did i get into heroin on my birthday? probably having nothing to do on it, and trying to find something significant

there is one lost art in music-collection that gets forgotten - going into the store, buying a cd, and opening it outside the store, putting it in your discman and walking home - thats how i first heard the dirty three - debut album

The Harold and Maude soundtrack must be one of the most perfectly compiled albums of all time - I remember listening to a lot of Cat Stevens, and most likely the Harold and Maude soundtrack, during the increasingly boozey weekends spent while living alone - It was during these weekends I found myself thinking more and more about getting married, which eventually i did - My window was open at all times of the day - The air was always so cold inside - I layered myself with blankets and madness - Kept strange hours and wandered my room until something presented itself - A book, an album, a weird-movie, a thought – Years later, I heard the vile words of a postie who's bike had tipped over and scrambled the mail he was to deliver that day - Rarely had i heard such cursing preceding such anger - Everyday was overcast, but it never rained - These people would follow me home, and i swear i saw a gun resting on somebodies brick fence, but i chose to ignore it - I always get a little thrill out of seeing familiar places on the news - A little old lady went missing down the road from here I live - Concerns her dementia led her into the nearby lake, I guess – I’ve slept out there myself – Walking, wandering, meandering, rambling – Finding myself here or there – I slept as the possums echoed through the trees – Small branches and large twigs, stretches of bark falling to the ground, breaking a silent night wide-open – You may find it surprising that ducks are quite nocturnal as well – Ducks are night-owls, good friends at least

We walked into a dumpling café/restaurant – we had been there plenty of times before – it’s surrounded by plenty of others like it, though this one is small and less flashy, less neon and less popular than the rest – but it’s cool –we’ve formed a small sort of tradition out of the place – late Sunday lunch – stop off at the bottle shop a couple of doors down and come out with a couple of ginger-beers in a brown plastic bag – anyway, we walk in and sit down and the first thing I see is a young girl in tears – she is sitting opposite a young man with long black muso-hair – he looks like the gentle kind of outsider – he is holding her hand and remaining silent – simply allowing her to cry – it’s hard not to stare, and I don’t – when they did come into my line of sight, I didn’t get the feeling they were breaking up– I thought maybe it was a death, but I couldn’t be sure – I couldn’t imagine either of them were enjoying their dumplings, and inside my mind I was pleading for the young guy to insist they leave, so he could get her somewhere more comfortable – yet they just remained – her tears falling over her red face, his hair hiding half of pale face painted with concern – eventually the young man asked the old waiter for their food to be packaged to go – the girl insisted on paying for their meal, and so the young man waited and stood near our table, holding the remains of their failed lunch in a weak plastic bag – we had our kid with us, and being so inquisitive by nature, she sat and stared directly at the young man waiting beside our table – she was unwavering – the young man gave her a small baby-wave, which brought a smile to my face – I gave him a quiet discrete nod, which I think he appreciated – I felt a sense of respect for this young guy – sticking it out with this girl in such a miserable state – in public, and he didn’t care – more news of the earthquake in nepal spewed onto the news later that day – the focus of the story confused somewhere between the 2500+ people killed in Kathmandu, and a handful of Australians who may have lost their lives in a related avalanche on everest – I couldn’t help but think about my time in Nepal and all the crackly and loose buildings throughout it, and how little it would’ve taken for them to collapse – let alone a 7 plus pointer on the richter scale

The answer to all the problems in this world is an easy one – basic, and could probably be summed up in one word (by someone more articulate than myself) – the one main problem with the world is that people are too far gone to recognise how simple the solution is, if we want it to be –people are too far hooked on their religions and politics and opinions and conflicts - john and yoko understood this – an alcohol low, the sun-rise –a greater understanding of the things that cause us to be outraged, and a greater awareness of how ridiculous those things are – wipe away this desire to simply prove people wrong and this desire to win, and help and educate and inform, peacefully – compete with no-one, and where did this idea of “attacking the day” come from? – our interaction with daily existence should resemble more of a lone-dance, or an afternoon nap, rather than attack

Raising a child is easy, except for when it comes to getting them to wear pants – Where does this aversion to pants come from? It’s like Wrestlemania trying to get those things on them - The best thing about raising a kid, so far, as been seeing her reaction and retaliation to the continual zerbitts/rasberries I give her on a nightly basis – Her retaliation consists of putting her mouth on my leg and screaming at it – It’s the best she can do

A messy-hair Monday morning

Sitting on a train,

Telling myself I’m a good person

2am, Sunday night

The television talks at me

-A bad influence

I imagine a catastrophic train-accident

Two trains colliding - maybe

And the subsequent carnage

What would happen and where would I end up?

I brace myself for a stabbing

A punch deep in the stomach

Every time I walk past two men 

Yeah, bigger and tougher than me

I sit down at a café and I imagine a sudden explosion

Ripping the street and store-fronts apart

A deafening blast and the screams and moans and panic that follow

I look forward to the day when a new warehouse opens up in an abandoned café.

When I read a book, I often shake my head in amazement over a certain phrase or sentence, but there is always this small sting that makes me think, I should’ve come up with that.

When I listen to music, I often shake my head in amazement thinking to myself, “How the fuck do they do this? How do you write something like that?”