31.DEC.03
    11.59PM

I could countdown from 60.
Or I could start my year a minute earlier. Happy New Year.


31.DEC.03
    CHRONIC

"Tomorrow is next year." I recall producing high-octaves of laughter over that relevation in the past hour. It was one of those cheap non-substantial noises that arise from the depth of my anxiety in a facade of a laugh. I am by far in no condition to be analytical about the emotional state i'm in. The upcoming year (which i might add, is Tomorrow) brings great conundrums that will indefinitely challenge me from all angles. And, being all noble and humble, i have to confess the growing fetus of fear i nurture within. Uncertainties and agony feast upon my own strengths and discipline to plough through the new year. This infestation causes me to suffer humour-retardation and concentration-lack-there-of. I suppose, we all go through these inspontaneous moments of confusion and chaos as we race towards the closing year. I mean, I have to commence my adjustment of writing a 4 instead of a 3 in my dates. I mean, i have to start telling people that i am 17 when they ask. I mean, I have to remember a whole new timetable for godsake. AND I mean, I AM doing my HSC now. Tomorrow, or if you like, next year, is half the foundation of my education through, and it is the last of my restraint lifestyle. Soon, i will be another one of those librated birds, un-domesticated, soaring into the sky. Flying! Or rather driving...and living...and partying...and independently creating my own world.

This aeon of tolerance and turmoil will test me and i will not fail. For I will conclude this year, (which i have JUST realised is, TODAY) with a positive overtone which will transcend into next year (tomorrow!). And yes i am deeply fascinated with this conversion of year to year with a simple today-to-tomorrow. How can a "next year" be marked by passing one day to the next day? How can 365 days be differenciated by a alteration between 31st to 1st? Shouldnt there be some kind of gap? or break in between? Some form of transition period where people can at least adjust and prepare themselves? Maybe a few extra days to iron their shirts, see a pyschatrist, read tarot cards, or perhaps even write a yearly autobiography recording every event that took place in the past 12 month. Now wouldnt that be more productive than storming into the next year just like that, ungroomed and panic-ridden?

Dont mind me, i'm just nervous about it all, its chronic.


29.DEC.03
    PLACATE

I could not be at more ease right now. Woke up at noon, ran, swam, spa-ed, saua-ed, sun bask-ed and shower-ed. And momentarily, cloying ripples of Moonlight Sonata in C sharp minor is flowing out of my speakers, soothing the air in serenity. I'm enveloped in an aroma of Jad¨®re and theres a cup of lukewarm coffee sitting on my table. Such doldrums make me feel poetic, i just need a few more leaflets of discarded drafts across my floor and perhaps a loose sweeping attire. I shalt get too comfortable though, this complacency might settle in and i will never accomplish anything. (But then again, i never do)
"Thou best the thought canst rinse, the heart attune,
Light as the busy clouds, calm as the gliding moon."
-Ode to Tranquillity, S.T Coleridge


28.DEC.03
    NOSTALGIA

The euphoria of yesterdays' expenditure has droned down to a small buzz. And now i'm left light-headed and slightly defective. I'm as downcast as this goddamn weather. Fleeting days...


27.DEC.03
    AFTERMATH

After all that hussle and bussle...comes the reopening of stores. After all that wrapping and tearing of presents...comes the percentage signs. Finally, after all that money already spent on relatives, friends and co-workers...comes the raison d'¨ºtre...End of Year Clearance SALES (but this time its more self-promoted). Shoving, pinching, and snatching reduced items have become a prerequisite for this seasonal time. It's every woman for themselves. (Although, little surprise was exhibited seeing an increased number of fashion-conscious males who were just as catty as the rest) An utter mess out there, like a battlefield littered with red half price signs and heaving bodies as they swarm towards the possibly-the-last-one-on-the-shelf goods.
For no one wants to miss out. No one wants to fall behind the great leap forward into the year being finanically ample. And no one wants to see their money die of boredom in the pits of their wallet (for that, dear reader, is a cruel cruel thing to do). And so, let the cash registers fill to the brim, and llet the people run wild. Set the green wad free. 2004 i greet you with nothing.

 


25.DEC.03
    WISHES

Merry Christmas.


23.DEC.03
    REFLECTION

This, my friend, lacks substance.I feel lame but I'll prevail...one day.


23.DEC.03
    TRUE FICTION

The other day, i was heading home in my usual strut-past-every-reflective-window pace, occassionally guiding a misplaced strand of hair back and smoothing down the folds of my skirt. It was rather unfortunate that i had to witness such a mishap whilst waiting for the lights at the intersection. There was one of those grungy-locomotive-cousin, trolley collector trucks racing aggressively at 80km/h down the street (i assume, there was a trolley in distress). It made a unpleasantly metallic clattering racket, as the chain of shopping carts jotted wildly against each other. And as the awkward thing pushed faster up the hill, the commotion escalated to a loud thunder, a bit like a storm of metal rain pelting down against the ground. Which, i might add, wasnt far from the truth.
It so happened that, the entire train of shopping trolleys rolled off the truck and went herding off like escaped convicts down the slope. Of course, by now, several people at the intersection gripping onto handfuls of grocery have stopped to gape at this catastrophe. Some of the "responsive" ones began a clumsy yet violent sprint (or tottle) after the trolleys, all the while, holding onto their shopping. Logically their cars were parked along the road on which the stampede was heading down. If you didnt see the previous incident, and saw a bunch of asian men and women and children staggering down the street waving their shopping bags in a frenzy, you would think oddily of the situation. But if you did, and saw two trolleys detach from the group and run off-course colliding into a shiny Honda Civic, you would think it tragic.

Thinking back, i was laughing at the time, although behind a solemn and grave face. Carol Burnett once said, "Comedy is tragedy plus time." That was shortly before she was killed in a tragic helicoptor crash, which, in retrospect is kind of funny.


20.DEC.03
    DOGMATIST

I summon a Revolution. It's been a while. Things are getting rather dull here. It was no surprise when a tumbleweed overtook me on the streets and when a lone cricket began chirping sonnets in Latin to a bird. One day, he's going to realise that fatal mistake. With high ambition to make a difference, I went to the Canterbury RSL club, to recruit spirited men and women who wanted Rambo action in their lives besides exercising their index fingers on the pokie machine. Sadly, i was endorsed to few wig-about-to-be-blown-off men and a few extra-long-bloody-fingernailed grandmas. (But then again, it would have been a bit queer if i found them dressed hot pink, grooving about and getting dirty.) Anyhow, it seems as if, everyone was perfectly content with their lives, and was living it up in their own obsecure way.
I guess, doctrinaires cannot cook up a Revolution without serving the rest of the population what they crave. Those RSL hooters were filled to the brink of satisfaction with their free drinks and money-eating-machines. And i suppose, they simply need not turbulence nor disorder in their lives, like i do. Does this mean Napolean, Lincoln, and Mao were as bored as i am now?

      


19.DEC.03
    AU COURANT

On this scorching day, i decided to drag an un-suspecting friend to visit the National Art Gallery of NSW. Decorated like a cake on 2 inch heels, it proved difficult to stroll around the place. But it was pleasant nevertheless, in a recalescent kind of way (considering the wonderous invention of air conditioning). I suppose, there was an undying thirst inside me to be au courant in all aspects. Art galleries being one of the cultural arenas which was readily avaliable to me (and one which was relatively inexpensive). I hoped to marinate myself in there till i was crisp and deliciously conversant. I wanted to be stimulated by the human mind's aptitude to express themselves flawlessly through a vast of mediums. Thus, eventually, it might wane my own incompetence in self-expression.
So was i more enriched? More adroit? I doubt it, but it gave me a sense of direction. An aim in life-for-now. I inspire to become more refined, courteous and charitable. Dont know how those qualities crept into my mind from a few vases and oil dabs, but perhaps im just contingent and just want to be improved.

   


17.DEC.03
    ENTRY

I'm doing alright now. Thanks for asking.


16.DEC.03
    RATIONAL

Upon sitting in an ill-lit Karaoke room today, intoxicated by a dense tabacco cloud, i was brooding over how many people Sydney occupied. From which propagated to the entire nation and later to the whole wide world. And, i was flabbergasted!- There could be a million people like the ones in that oxygen-lacking room i was concealed in with. There could well be a few hundred me's out there, who enjoyed the same music, food, and clothing style, who tuned in to the same daily sit-coms and did-this-with-that etcera.
This ripple of thought dispersed rapidly through my ever-growing pond of brain matter, and i came to realise that grounds of similarity in personality, physcial structure and pysche beliefs will always be found between one being and another. Which then brings me to the "Erase and Replace" theory, where we can easily displace the people around us with others. While, at the same time still be in the same social milieu of physical/characteristic traits as the primary group. To which, i should add, we are subconsciously forevermore doing anyway. And so, thats concludes another one of my senseless theories, but one thing is definitely true, passive smoking affects mental health.


15.DEC.03
    REVELATION

What's it like getting your ribs ripped out, beaten with it till you're gagging out blood and then raped with it? (Almighty useful rib i must say)
Its like "pain". But pain consequents in many ways, you need not to go through rib abuse in order to experience this. Sometimes, it emerges from the mere sight of his distinct delight in her smiles or her absolute adoration in his eyes. (The latter, i must profess the cruder of the two) Anyhow, i shall not dote too much on subjects as such, im sure its been scutinised to the point of being stale.
O hail rib anyday.

13.DEC.03
    12PM

lazy blue,
cloud puffs sail soundlessly,
as summer heat ripple,
in the surburban silence,
sweat drops echo,
caressing icy cans, i sit
a sun kissed carcass,
dreaming of

06.DEC.03
    EXONERATE is defined as:

To relieve, in a moral sense, as of a charge, obligation, or load of blame resting on one; to clear of something that lies upon oppresses one, as an accusation or imputation; as, to exonerate one's self from blame, or from the charge of avarice.

To free from a responsibility, obligation, or task.