Turn On The Bright Lights

I've realised I seem to have comedic timing, otherwise known as luck, when it comes to encounters or general happenstance.

I was walking on ecstatic organs last night in a bar.  Later on, after tears, have a 1am "how's your night" from a soul who is a snake.

I am wondering if this is to happen again tonight.  I've worked real hard on keeping the waters under the bridge.  I want them to stay that way.  I don't like watching bridges burn so I'm not thinking about it for the better part.

I'm blowing time here waiting for my friends to reach the club.  Aforementioned reason, as well as some other people, I hope not to cross alone there.. I'd like to enter knowing my friends are in siren's reach, ambulance for awkwardness that could ensue.

Today was..... merry.

Us three ran around like years hadn't passed.  I came second in a racing game even though Seng kept hitting me with his car.  

I tried to win a dog but the claw wouldn't pick it up.  We all tried and failed there.  It's rigged.  I kept having flashbacks to dreams, Grundies (shudder!) and Intencity.  T was a bit strange all day.  He is still kind and loving as a person but he seemed to maintain a distance towards me all day, and to what do I owe this?  We were once thick as thieves, best friends.  I wish we had that again.  But .... me thinks he likes me... why is this a trend lately?  Why can't I have my guy friends back?  Maybe if I dressed like a dag it would be okay...

Seng told me over lunch he used to think I was into Nirvana and a wild child when I was fourteen.  One of those rough kids, really out there.  That made me laugh.  I was so straight laced, high collared, giddy and dorky back then.  I'm not any of those things these days, but I've never been some rebel punk kid.  Hilarious.

Lots of hilarious happenings.  Dancing dolls that had me wetting myself at the markets, and trying on of wigs.  I should have been born with pale pink hair, for sure.

So what the heck.. it is exactly midnight.. my friends were meant to be at this club half an hour ago.. I'm chewing on going or not... It'd be three hours, max, of dancing... and again.. possibly avoiding certain people.  Lalalala

This morning I ran around and did some photography, will do some more tomorrow as well.  Have a picnic and catching up with Kay.. should be nice.  No getting stoned thus far, but it's not been missed.

I ordered some hippie/Lennon style glasses.  They're awesome.

At twenty five I'm changing my life.  

Either:

Moving to the country to live on property... i.e a possible running away to Tingha for several months for the remoteness, to focus on writing..
Moving to America to travel and work
Starting a new career, in anything! 
Getting a car and moving to another city in Australia

Until then I will:

Work to save to live out other dreams for the next 730 days
Consider working with animals..
Selling/publishing/promoting/performing my work
Travelling more around Australia
Putting a kitty aside for these vacations.. I need to hit the fucking road.
Taking more photos
Do water colours again
Fall in love with something.. a new hobby
Don't date anyone for several months
Get a tattoo down my right arm
Learn a musical instrument.
Train my voice
Be an awesome aunty
Get a car
Visit Cairns again
Have more girls nights in
Move on
Stop feeling hurt/affected by people who aren't worth the thought
Tough as nails
Being 100% involved in whatever demands my attention at work and personally
Being resolute

Who drew the skeleton on your hand?

She’s been rescued

The pressure just changed.

I like love letters
Old form of romance
love the smell of rust, of must, of lust
Blood and sex and sugar
why does that sound so good?
it's been done before
in countless sheets
but my hands are too soft for violence
in a world of vultures
I want to be a saint of sinners
and to melt your ice and still the waters with a kiss
but maybe if I bit down hard enough I'd taste what I fear
to enjoy

Sometimes I just want to be bad
To saunter that way
your way
his way
her way
grab a collar
grab fistful of hair
grab the space between legs
which is the doorway to closed eyes and held breaths
want to be bad
Like 13 is a dirty word
Bad luck scrawled over cracked mirror in lipstick 
sometimes
I want to fuck in corridors
want to be seen 
shirtless
by a neighbour
Sometimes
I want to be caught
held down
Pushed against a wall
I want to be told it's okay
even when it's not