Pimpin' Tahhhme!

This is my pimpin' sister.



And me on the phone. Typical. Merry Christmas everyone!

I strongly suggest you check out Daniel's latest (and second latest) blog, which will direct you to photos of our housewarming party. The link is in my links list, under Check This Out!

We will be having NYE drinks at the House of Hussy from 9 pm. All welcome! It is even rumoured that my pimpin' sister will be making an appearance...

Come celebrate the New Year with us in Hussy Style!

After the Storm/Before the Storm?

Life comes around in a circle to meet its own tail, like a snake. I wake up with the ghost of travel beginning to creep around me, and I curl back into sleep with a cautious push of the snooze button. I cannot sleep in today.

Leaving alone. No one to see me off this time - it's only a short trip anyway. Pack bags, wear a pretty dress; pale antique blue for the summer and the colour of my mood today. Get ready, don't forget anything - Christmas at Dad's.

Fragile on the edge of come-down today. A shivering leaf, poised to fall. Tip-toeing past myself in the mirror; I am pale, gaunt, drained, a quiet smile and hesitant heart. Eight hours sleep in four days, and a scare. A bender. A flirtation with darkness that I am not ready to face yet... Anyway.

Your body - half in my bed, jeans still on, asleep on top of the covers - is beautiful and unselttling. Now, while you sleep, it is peaceful and I feel calmness and affection. Pottering about as I pack and get ready to go, I stop a moment to trace my hand through the air above you, noticing the sharp curve of your back as you lay on your stomach like a little boy.

Time passes and gets away from me a bit as I am packing. I realise I must wake you now. I try and I am gentle; I touch your neck, run fingers through your hair, whisper to you, tap you softly. I try to be so gentle, to be soft. You stir but will not wake. My time is running out...

I squeeze your earlobe once. Bad move. Suddenly and fiercely you uncurl and strike out at me like a scorpion. I fall back frightened and ashamed. Tears fill my eyes and I feel even more ashamed.

I cover my face with my hands and try to breath. I hate myself right there in that moment, as if I could die because I feel like a failed person, wrong, deformed. As if I somehow managed to miss the part where you learn how to touch other people, how to play with other children, and no one will play with me because I am strange.

I leave the room to calm down, write you a note, finish packing and head off alone make the bus with no hug and no goodbye.

I have hotcakes for breakfast, a coke, a cigarette and cheack-in in perfect time for the coach to EDEN. Waiting to board, I am haunted by the past; years of bus trips up and down the south coast of NSW. Pies from the Nimitabel Bakery, teary goodbyes to dad, mum, brothers living elsewhere. Happy trips and Christmas reunions, excitement, nostalgia, the firey naive passions of my teenage journal writing. Tears on pages of greif, fantasies, confusions, a dead butterfly on the highway... That me: A secret girl, wild and delighted inside her own universe in the far back seat of the bus.

Every trip is always that trip - city turns into land, fences roll over hills in all colours, cold now becomes hot and cold again, and the searing sun becomes a moody, humid storm-front as we decend towards the Victorian boarder.

We pass the place where the Narooma fair is heald each year and I remember the rides and dodgem cars, the beautiful sunset turning the sky orange over the sea as we reach the top of the feris wheel. Three boys are playing on the side of the road with no shirts, no shoes, grubby, laughing. Now at the sea a group of kids is fishing under a bridge over the bay. The mountains now frame one egde of the world, mistly and blue. The bush and sea and many shades of green complete my view. Sydney may be home, but I have come back to something, some deeper home, some older truth...

I am quieted. Begin day one of detox - from many things, but mostly from all of you. This distance from distraction.

And of J? I left him sleeping in my bed - not an easy thing for me to do - and I asked in the note if he would call me. Just to reach out, just to re-assure. Just to lighten the load of beginning to care.

Some people are more like hedgehogs than others and getting close can be risky business. This little hedgehog is bruised and unsure at the moment. Scarred and definatly fragile. Still - I like to play with other children... I'm sure I can learn the rules.

Does it require me to kill the wild things I keep inside?

....

Fuck!

The weekend just gone: a whirlwind of working a good number of hours, coming into some merchandise ;-) pushing my flirtations with gay-boys further, and pushing my flirtation with g to the furtherest edge I'm willing to go to...

Fuck!

I regret missing Louise's drinks and hope I can catch up with her and do something nice. But fate had another plan for me this weekend. She left me stumbling into Wednesday, waking at four am with bruises all over my legs. Brian said like a dalmation, and he was exactly right. I've never had it so rough, so all consuming. And the culprit? Unexpected, but not a complete surprise. I've been watching, waiting, feeling my way around. And what a little mongral - quite an interesting piece of work. Strangely romantic, passionate, hot, intense, strong and yet, in some ways so fragile.

Still too soon to record the details of these two encounters but here's some "feeling and sensation words":

The first time: Edgy. Delinquent. Dangerous. Surprising. Sexy. Dirty.

The second time: Calculated. Overwhelming. Consuming. Passionate. Challenging. Filthy. Exhausting. Charming. Fascinating.

Fuck! Eek! Anyway.

That's all for now. I'll update more soon. Daniel's and my housewarming party is on this saturday. Looking forward to that.

We Get Knocked Down, But We Get Up Again...

We all depend on the kindness (and the campness) of strangers...

We all grow tired and need a little help from our friends.

We all crave love like children, a kind word, a reassurance, inspiration, the respect of those that we respect.

We all must earn these things, and we must ask for them. No (wo)man is an island.

Today WAS better. The poetry of life, the poetics of it... The symmetry - throwing me into despair to pull me out into the sun again. Emerging stronger but cautious. The kindness of strangers! The healing power of meaningful, mutual exchanges. The value of an invite, a sharing, a small gift, a ear to listen, arms to hug you.

The deepening of a couple of new friendships. The holding out of an olive-branch from an "old friend" destined to be new again. Renewed.

Feeling ok. Feeling like there are still people for whom I can want to be my best.

Looking forward to things. Daring to hope for things.

Thanks Chris, Daniel and Liz. Not only, but especially today. And thanks to Dan Murphy for playing a number of new songs today. You all refreshed me. Re-booted me when I had crashed, frozen.

...

Loss...

This afternoon I missed my English Dept christmas party because of a lack of confidence. Realising I had no one to go with - no partner who would accompany me, no Liz Pender to meet up with, my supervisor wants to drop me but hasn't even arranged a time to meet with me to do so, my associate supervisor has cancelled appointments with me twice already and so my supervision is completely up in the air. Feeling neglected and weak I chose to stay home and catch up on my email, which I have had little access to of late.

In good news; Daniel's move into the apartment has gone relatively smoothly. The place looks fantastic and Daniel's get-up-and-go attitude is infectious. I feel like organising myself a lot more, particularly in terms of the thesis. I am trying desparately to get something organised with supervision before the Christmas break.

TEARS

I went to Lander St to get my mail and try to get my phone unbarred by calling optus from there. I felt so out of place, unwelcome, fragile, wanting support, tenderness, welcome. Talking to J left me so upset that I was struck by an overwhelming desire to cry, so I said a hasty goodbye and left, bursting into tears before I even got half-way up the street.

So shut-out from their world, so alone. I miss everyone so much. I've lost everything. I miss being invited to hang out with my friends. I miss knowing everyone and everyone knowing me. I miss ease and comfort with loved ones who've known me for years. I never thought that the price would be so high for making a decision that I needed to make.

I feel like I've messed everything up, even though I've tried not to. I feel like I am out of sight and out of mind, and everyone has moved on without me.

I think I left my mail there in the end... and I had to make my phone call from a public phone. So my phone is still barred (but the bill is paid now, so should be unbarred soon), and tonight I feel so fragile, I could fall off the edge of myself and wander into the traffic to be shattered into the nothing that I feel I am.

I hope tomorrow is better. I hope the years of friendship do not mean nothing. I hope I still exist. I hope that J is not a stranger, and love is not a lie. I hope life is not just a random waste of time. I hope this loneliness is just a phase.

------

Lost? ;-)

Sunday night at Arq I finally lost myself... lost myself in a glorious k-hole... lost myself in you... arggghhh full on! Faaaaabulous...

This is what I wrote when you left:

To get lost from yourself and your surrounds need not be a frightening thing. Bump to get warm. Bump again and you’re hotter. And the third time jump right off… Eyes lose focus, edges stary, a sparkling haze. Sounds change their presence and texture. The dominant sounds may fall behind and make way for timid, more complex aural patterns. New shapes emerge. Things seem closer or further away. The body heats up, speeds up, and yet the mind and time slow down. More concentrated, more laboured, more intense. The small things become all there is. Tension, control, losing control and holding onto it.

But lose yourself with someone else, and the journey into each other becomes all there is. The music a driving force, a script to follow, a set of sign-posts showing you different ways that you can travel together. Bodies move closer, less self-conscious, but no less self-aware – each touch, each movement, together or against each other becomes a music of its own with discord and harmony in an interplay.

I close my eyes to forget the world around, to let myself be here in this experience. Because it is so rare and precious, and may never come around again. I can let go of this control, this pride, this fear… I can afford to let you move me. Take my hand, my arms twisted into yours, stumbling laughing onto the dance floor. One corner to the next, grappling, reaching, pummelling each other with graceful affection, hands gripping the table, a speaker, the wall to stabilise me. You almost pull me down. I reach under your shirt – your back, your skin so soft… I grab your hair at the back of your neck, twist it gently, brush the sensitive skin around your ears with the back of my fingers, run fingertips down your spine, resist the desire to dig my nails in, to push myself under your skin. We go under waves of soft, dark oblivion and come up for air, pausing, laughing, then getting swept away again.

We cannot afford to let such igniting moments pass us by for the sake of self-consciousness. I let myself move with you. You are so sensual, a curled-up spring of sexual energy, passion, integrity. You let go, you pounce, you ravage, you touch and strain and pull back again. A rhythm builds.

A rhythm that wants to consume me – consume us both. An intensity that we skirt around, or simply avoid most of the time, greets us head-on, throws us into tangles of each other. Jump in – the water is hot! Bodies find their own ways of fitting together and moving as one creature.

I feel your hunger, energy, passion, and creativity sparking from your hands into my skin – firm grip, deliberate, tracing the lines of my body from my ankles up, you on your knees like worship, but you are in control at this moment. You humble me with the conviction of your passion. I feel it in the grind of your hips towards mine… Even in something simple like your head upon my shoulder – nestling with intent...

To the outside world we must seem odd, oblivious, out of control… but this fusion is controlled; only it is by a deeper consciousness. We are not out of control, or lost from ourselves, but lost in each other – finding other selves. Magic dust, magic place of lights and shadows and heat and music. I am heaving with excitement, danger, titillation, and delight.

You: a ratbag, beautiful – intense one moment, cheeky the next. I want to possess you, over-power you with domination, delight you with games and make you believe. I want to be worthy of your self-subordination. I want to break you softly, then break for you in return – to rise again from the ashes, wink at you and walk away, unscathed, a vision of perfection. I want…

At one or two points our eyes meet and I am afraid the ‘spell will break’ if I linger too long. Then you firmly hold my head and turn my eyes to look directly into yours. I approve of the gesture, I am surprised, I am impressed by your courage, but I also resist. Yes, I am afraid; not of what I might see (not at all) but of the possibility that I will never see it again.

..........