this week.

it has been very ‘eventful’.

but that’s ok.

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Happy Monday.

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its a funny thing, coming home.

Thanks to Lori, and a small Asian genius called Tam, i am back.

my blog, which was hacked and subscribed 200 ‘authors’ in 3 months, started writing posts about Justin Bieber and Weight Loss pills today. why am i telling you this? im sure you all would’ve received the notifications.

i am incredibly sorry for adding to what must be dozens of useless spam-shit that already litters your mailbox. these bugs were so good that they had blocked me out of my own settings, so i couldn’t get in and fix things.

oh, bugs. why you do to me.

so here i am. new lick of paint, and a lot of poetry and bits and pieces i’ve had to use a pen and paper to write.

i am really, really sorry for the inconvenience.

40 day dream.

one day you will know
that you never know anyone.

you dont know if at night
in the heavy darkness above their beds
their hearts leak out of their throats

because of the weight alongside them
or the absence of.

you dont know the atrocious lies,
old lovers they’ve dismissed,
all the dreams they once had, the wishing.

you’d never meet their younger selves,
the wine-dark passionate sighs, the sacrifices,
the ones that got away.

the people they once were
are now dust and broken bits of bone
shed carefully like old skin.

there’ll be a minute, a moment,
when the water pulls away from the earth
and you see the remnants of love, and plans, and loss.

you open your eyes and you see your open hands
holding on to nothing at all,
but air.

and i, am the arrow.

i saw my life branching out before me like the big naked tree out the front, the one you led me to that wonderful summer night, where you chose to kneel down on one knee. from the tip of every branch, like a fat, bright red apple, an array of scenarios beckoned and winked. one apple was a husband and a happy home brimming with books and movies and children, and another apple was a famous poet and another apple was a quiet reader – calm and comfortable. another apple was salty and tanned and speaking the beautiful language of home. another apple was Spain and South America and wrinkled suitcase clothes, you and i passing red wine in a glass cup between us. and another apple was tired and lost and hurting. another apple was a pack of old lovers with unknown endings, and beyond and above these apples were many more apples i couldn’t quite make out. i saw myself sitting in the crotch of this big, leafless tree, starving to death, just because i couldn’t make up my mind which of the apples i would choose. my usual reaction, i suddenly realise, the bated breaths before the staccatos of my 30 years – the un-decisions, the weighing, the silent ‘oh!’ at the end of an event. i wanted the ones up the top, but how do you climb a tree exactly? i wanted most of them, and definitely didn’t want certain others, and i knew choosing one meant losing all the rest. and, as i sat there, unable to decide, the apples began to wrinkle and go black. and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

sylvia. rewritten.

you read.

the finest thing.

this time last week, i was in church witnessing the marriage of two very good friends. the readings were full of words such as love and commitment, and i was surrounded by my bestfriends, cocooned in the summer heat, and i was happy. i thought – what more do you need really? but the word of someone you truly love, and their company, and good friends, plenty of wine and laughter and all will be just fine.

the next evening, hungover, and walking the dog before midnight to escape the oven that used to be our apartment, M and i ended up at the park across the road. along a row of humongous, fairytale trees and lampposts and sky, M got down on one knee and gave me the biggest surprise of my life.

with koko running around in the empty green, his smile like the moon lighting up the entire park, it was very perfect, and very unexpected and very us.

there was no other answer but yes. and ‘fine’ became a million times finer.

lola.

one day, you will say
(maybe without speaking)
and i will be silent, and listen -

there are fields inside your skull:
mangos and chaos of 9 beautiful children,
love songs in the kitchen
from a static-y radio;
a rocking chair in the corner of a room where he sat,
a portrait of yourself in sepia
when you were 19 and smooth and bewildered.
curtains of a particular shade;
chocolates hidden in sock drawers.
how the least favourite child
became your keeper and salvation.
All your private dinosaurs – in a language
which has become my old one.
you, the first
woman.

all i need to know
you will tell me,
just as it was
from the beginning.
and something magnificent
will come full circle.

happy new year, everyone. i hope all sorts of wonderful dreams come true this year. x

ok, melbourne. we get it.

George Bailey, I’ll love you ’til the day I die.

honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’.

it has completely taken the top spot of the Favourite Most Awesomest Movie Ever; taking that place and all the rest i can count with all my fingers.

16 days till Christmas.

see the sun

a rendition.

we’ve all got broken strings but we try our best
not to think about those kind of things.
instead i find myself wondering about how dark
and swampy your eyes got at the end of sweet november.
i find myself thinking about how the hottest stars
are not red, but instead they’re white and blue.
i wonder about love sometimes, and the bodies
i’ve seen it come in. how, when we hit the light
we never could stay for very long.
(maybe our bodies weren’t built for this.)
but not once have i found myself being sorry
for all the feelings that i bear
in all the places they cannot fit.
sometimes in the dark quiet above my bed, i listen carefully,
and i think i can hear you singing.
maybe it’s just the sound of the wind
hitting our broken strings. i always think how this world could be
such a very lonely place,
if you never learn how to love broken things.

life begins on sunday.

i turn 30 on sunday. that means i’ve lived three decades. i find it a little sad when i was little i couldnt wait to grow up. one of my favourite games was dressing up in mum’s Ferregamo pumps, painting my face with her make up, drowning myself in her perfume and pretending to be a librarian or a check-out chick because those were the coolest jobs.

i had crushes on boys in primary school and married the cutest boy in my year level, by meeting him out the front of the school chapel and holding hands for 5 seconds. i loved punching the ATM keys for mum and couldnt wait to have my own money coming out of a hole on the wall. i used to practice kissing by pashing myself on the mirror.

we should really tell children more, to take their time, that there’s no rush. i find it sad when i see 14 year olds sounding like fake-adults with all the attitude and abbreviated speech and push-up bras, never having heard of Sesame Street or never having seen My Girl. seriously? WHERE’S HIS GLASSES!? HE CANT SEE WITHOUT HIS GLASSES!!! oh, the loss.

then i think about growing up in the 80s and 90s and realise i had possibly the best era for youth. it was pre-internet but there was modem dial-up. so that meant we had Encyclopedias and books that you can still breathe in and books that you had to look for in libraries. which meant we had more quiet. everywhere, there were more chances to be still, and stay quiet.

it was pre-iTunes but we had Michael when he was still black, cassette tapes, and recording on them with the push-stop-push of the record and stop button, and giving them to people as gifts. as declarations of love.

it was pre-facebook and Twitter and our phones were 2D and the only game it had on it was Snake. which also meant we had to actually have conversations to know people. we had Fresh Prince, and all the other songs that came with him. we played outside and ate dirt and our parents didn’t call 000.

after school, when we’d get home, we’d smell like earth and sun.

aaanyway. it was good. it makes me smile thinking about it. and im thankful.

i found this though, which a friend sent to me. this also made me smile. apparently this was first published in ’97 in a US magazine and women loved it so much it became a book.

All of which incredibly true. Although i need to go out there apparently, and buy myself a cordless drill.

By 30, you should have …

1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come.

2. A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.

3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.

4. A purse, a suitcase, and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.

5. A youth you’re content to move beyond.

6. A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.

7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age — and some money set aside to help fund it.

8. An email address, a voice mailbox, and a bank account — all of which nobody has access to but you.

9. A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.

10. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.

11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.

12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.

13. The belief that you deserve it.

14. A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine, and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.

15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship, and all those other facets of life that do get better.

By 30, you should know …

1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.

2. How you feel about having kids.

3. How to quit a job, break up with a man, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.

4. When to try harder and when to walk away.

5. How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.

6. The names of the secretary of state, your great-grandmothers, and the best tailor in town.

7. How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.

8. Where to go — be it your best friend’s kitchen table or a yoga mat — when your soul needs soothing.

9. That you can’t change the length of your legs, the width of your hips, or the nature of your parents.

10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.

11. What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.

12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs, or not flossing for very long.

13. Who you can trust, who you can’t, and why you shouldn’t take it personally.

14. Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.

15. Why they say life begins at 30

listen, little ella.

when you’re young, you think everything you do is disposable.

you move from now to now, crumpling time up in your hands, tossing it away.

you think you can get rid of things, and people too – leave them behind.

you don’t yet know about the habit they have, of coming back.

time in dreams is frozen. you can never get away from where you’ve been.

little girl blue.

‘So, we creep out of stardust into two people falling in love. Leaving it as a worn journal to occasionally startle us in our hearts when the wind hits the pages and they fling open to a certain memory. We self organise from massive bursts of energy into particles, into people who hold each other tight. then cry and scream when they let go. If two rocks did this. If they fell in love and we viewed it from an outsider’s perspective, it would seem like the most amazing thing to ever happen. Matter organising into thoughts and feelings dependent on other matter’s thoughts and feelings. Incredible. But with humans we just take it for granted and move on. it’s all natural and unnatural, the novelty of everything wears off eventually. falling in love for the first time. your first kiss. your first betrayal. It’s amazing though. Don’t move on from the idea of love or soul mates or your mum. Keep sitting back in awe of it like you’re constantly 5 at a fireworks show. Love the shit out of whatever you can. Give everything, and don’t hesitate when you do it. thats all i can give to you. There is nothing else I can give you other than this.’ – march.

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