leaves

I wake up in the rain and it doesn't sound like stopping. It sounds like its gonna keep going for three days straight. I feel like staying in bed for three days, too. A contest of patience with the rain. My boss calls. I am already late for work. The rain will win, this time. "You've won this time, asshole" I tell the rain. Outside, there is an involuntary moat around my house. The autumn leaves have choked the drains. A rain-lake is trying to make me loss my job. Shouldn't have called it an asshole, crosses my mind. But I won't let it win. I will be like Carl Lewis and I will jump clear over you, rain puddle! How silly you'll look then. I run and jump, with perfect technique, planting my front foot only millimetres from the water's edge. I am flying and then I am landing. With a splash. "You win again, asshole!". My shoes and socks are soaked through. I am late for work. I can't go back and change, because I'll just have to jump again. My whole day will be coloured and damp and off from this. I will have to work late. The blockage is only going to get worse throughout the day. I'll have to jump harder and further when I get home. Some days, it feels like even the leaves hate you.

smokes

Life would be a lot easier if I smoked cigarettes, thought Mary, as she sat in the gutter waiting for her bus. She was more sitting on the edge of the footpath, with her feet in the gutter – this is more accurate. Mary thought that the people in cars driving by must wonder – what is that girl doing sitting in the gutter like that? If she had a cigarette though, people would just think “Oh, there's a girl smoking, how perfectly normal!”. Mary sat not-quite-in-the-gutter because the bus stop had no seat. A steel sign strapped to a wooden telephone pole was the extent of it. Sitting is easier then standing, or leaning against the telephone pole.

I should start smoking, thought Mary.

I could stand outside at popular social events, awkward and alone and no one would know. They would just think “Oh, there's a girl smoking. That makes sense”. I would not have to talk to anyone, because I would look busy and occupied. I could smoke so intently that people would know I was unable to focus on anything else at the time. I would ask a cute boy for a lighter even if I had one in my back pocket. Our small talk about progress to meaningful conversation about things with the prefix post-. He would become my boyfriend. He would seem awkward and self absorbed at first. I would change him. O would teach him to love. We would lie smoking and talking after sex. He wouldn't just roll over and sleep, leaving me with nothing but messy sheets, low self esteem and serious questions about my appearance / life / taste in men. We would sit outside at cafes drinking black coffee and eating bagels. He would know every second person walking past, and introduce me to them.

Yeah, thought Mary. Life would be easier if I smoked.

crucial unit

here are some more exciting lyrics, to provide a counterpoint to the stark and serious tone of the previous offering. we are working with opposites here in an attempt to stumble upon bold new flavours. crucial unit:

zines killing trees, littering our scene, nothing is unique so they better be free! let's wig out at kinkos! GO! photos of the cool bands for this season. political advice on how to commmit treason. regurgitated bullshit xeroxed for the masses. these rags would be better for wiping asses. do something new and make it real funny. otherwise, don't ask me for my money.

**

i'm throwing a sleepover this next friday night. just like any sleepover i'm going to invite one kid that we all hate just so we can fuck with him. i'm going to invite that lousy snot nose God. sure he'll eat all the munchies. sure he'll talk through the movie. sure he'll fuck up truth or dare. but it will be worth it once he falls fast alseep. SO WE CAN teabag God!

**

don't burn down the churches. because they are still useful buildings. that could be used for show spaces or skateparks.

**

riding my bike and i saw such a mess. hundreds of white people in protest. i rode a bit closer to see why they were pissed. thought they were buying barry manilow tickets. they weren't coming from playing tennis, but they had a picture of a giant fetus. i knew it was time to round up the kids so we could lock arms and fucking resist. wall of death the chain of fucking life.

**

tape goes in, kids go nuts. we're not here for kickin butts. we don't need a band with an amp. just don't break the goddamn lamp. moshing with the d-boiz - won them on the air, stage dive off of steev's reclineable chair. living room mosh pit! coffee table GO!

**

thrashin' is our business...and business is mediocre at best. go!

RIP.

dystopia

i spent an hour after coming home listening to dystopia and shuffling paper in my room. this is not a metaphor. the most gut wrenching / fucked up / make you want to get back on the fluoxitine you stopped taking / h8 u life / oh duuuude lyrics ever.

i dont have no one
i dont want no one
and i show no love
to anyone on the other side of the gun
what have i become
a threat to me and the ones i love
stare at the mirror and spit on my reflection
tears stain my bed
i write a letter to my mom and dad
telling them their son has failed them once again
gun in my mouth
i pull he trigger
the same story
a dead son
a fathers gun

-------------

lying bastards
decieving fuckers
you are a curse
violation
kicked in the head
when i hurt the worse
my body boils with
both anger and confusion
thorazine is such
a bitch to endure
i wanna rip your
fucking head off
you desecrate
all that is pure
stab me in the back
enemy
and to think
i fucking trusted you
you never cared
like a fucking doormat
you wiped your feet
on my dignity
so what
you caught me
when i was down
i must have been blind
to think your actions
constituted any love
liar
apologise till your
throat is sore
youre not sorry
cover your tracks
like you did before
no not any more
the drugs im taking
dont calm me anymore
i sit in angry depression
im worse off
than i was before
you fucking pig
i dont forgive
i dont forget
my minds set
i hope youre proud of
what youve done to me
you never fucking cared
backstabber
are to me in many forms
my best friend
hitler. jesus
christ. the law
fuck all you cunts
you shat on me
i hope it happens to you
maybe youll understand
how fucked it
really feels.

Feeling posi about life though. Everything is relative.

45 rpm

Too fast cars drive by, and smoke from the house on the corner of Hope Street flavours the air. The midnight streetlights are my only company, but I try writing letters to ghosts in the mist of my breath. Before reaching home I am swallowed by the warmth of fire and friends. We watch trailers for bad movies and drink cheap beers. I soon leave, returning home to refresh Facebook and listen to slow records on 45.

sometimes

sometimes when i'm typing stuff on the internet i make typos and spell 'yeah' like 'yeha',
and then i pretend like what i actually meant to say was 'YEHAW'.
just so i can start talking about something that i am more interested in.

Dan says:

yeha

Dan says:

**yeehaw! just saw some lions and some crocodiles fighting over a wounded antelope.

But, by god that Lift would have been refreshing!

Just want to tell people that I need to look extra hot tonight, because my personality's gonna suck.

And then text them in the morning saying that I don't remember anything but I'm an asshole so probably said something horrible and i'm sorry.

Then I want to walk to the dairy and buy a can of Lift.

And try to remember what I did last night.

Then I want to get declined buying Lift because I have no money,

further adding to the mystery and making me think I probably had more fun than I actually did.