zero the controls.

struggle for social distinction happens in every field, scenario, space.
it is a tireless competition for power and merit.
legitimation for the ego.
this incessant need for more and better,
is not the end point i want to be.
that is not what i want to look forward to for the rest of my days.

please don't suck me into those controls.

the hole in your roof.

it feels strangely comforting to see people moving on
watching them rise above the fall
aiming for something out there

'i love you.' for a start, we'd better put these words on a high shelf, in a square box behind glass which we have to break with our elbow, in the bank. we shouldn't leave them lying around the house like a tube of vitamin c. if the words come too easily to hand, we'll use them without thought; we won't be able to resist. oh, we say we won't, but we will. we'll get drunk, or lonely, or - likeliest of all - plain damn hopeful, and there are the words gone, used up, grubbied. we think we might be in love and we're trying out the words to see if they're appropriate? how can we know what we think till we hear what we say? come off it; that won't wash. these are grand words; we must make sure we deserve them. listen to them again: 'i love you'... how serious, how weighted, how freighted it sounds.
- Parenthesis, Julian Barnes

strawberry fields forever.

week-long birthdays are the best.
my fav afro-boy presence.
beer sausages and pork knuckles on thurs.
lotus lounge and supermild.
raya dinner on fri.
footy and the bbq at kurralta with the best couple,
dj in the kitchen, good music, good lollies on sat.
vodka bar through the back entrance.
barossa winery on sun.
indian food for dinner.

everyday in transit.
i'm ready now.