Posted on Saturday, February 21, 2009

You know those annoying people that ask too many questions?

I am one of those people.


I recently devised a mini questionnaire.

Armed with 5 questions, I took to the streets of Melbourne asking perfect strangers to share intimate snippets of their lives with me.


To put it simply…I live for this.

As one modern day poet put it…

“I want life in every word, to the extent that it’s absurd”

A big THANK YOU to those nameless people who took time out of their day to transform the mundane into something magical.

These were the questions:

1. What is your all time favourite memory?
2. What is it about Melbourne or the place that you live that you love so much?
3. If love was a colour, what would it be?
4. If you couldn’t live without one thing, what would it be?
5. What is it that makes you want to get up each morning?

These are the answers.

Embrace & Enjoy

Male, Age 23
1. The memory is of my sister and me when we were 2 and 3, playing with Lego men in the dirt outside.
2. I love the fact that in Melbourne you can be the person you have always wanted to be.
3. Love would be blue.
4. I couldn’t live without music.
5. The chance that my life will change in a different direction.

Male, Age33
1. Cartoons, evil sensei!
2. I love everything about St Kilda.
3. The colour of my princess’ eyes.
4. I’d like to live without tickets!
5. Nothing in particular gets me up in the morning.

Male, Age 26
1. So many memories, but if I had to choose one, then it would be winning football player of the year award when I was 11.
2. Well I definitely don’t like the weather here in Melbourne! I guess it’s the vibe and the constitution, lots of cool people.
3. Love would be orange.
4. I couldn’t live without music.
5. Again, it’s music.

Male, Age 22
1. My brother’s wedding, it’s a new memory, they had been going out so long, and it was the first wedding of the family and I was the best man. I got to do a cool speech.
2. Freedom.
3. Love would be rainbow for all the different emotions, could be any colour.
4. Critical thought.
5. There’s not one feeling, depends on what I’m doing that morning.

Male, Age 28
1. Remembering a feeling- those moments of clarity where I can pinpoint them- remembering that feeling of ‘oh my god, I’m on the right path’. I just really like those moments, that euphoric feeling, end of one chapter and the start of another….that blank page.
2. It’s the diversity in each facet of life, a mix and influence from different cultures, a tourist hub, the tourist capital of Australia, ever changing, and so are the people. It’s refreshing, this simple way of life if you can tap into it.
3. Love would be pink!
4. I couldn’t live without love and passion.
5. A new day to paint a new picture, and whatever picture you want.

Female, Age 24
1. Being about three years old and standing naked outside the backdoor of our house while Mum picked cactus prickles out of my skin from when I fell into a cactus. I remember the afternoon sun and seeing the prickles look like glitter in my skin. I also remember feeling kind of bad for making Mum do this.
2. I love the space of Melbourne. It’s big and open and I can be anyone, someone or no one. So much live music to choose from too.
3. Blood red.
4. Love and lyrics.
5. A beat and that feeling of infinite potential.

Female, Age 34
1. My wedding day.
2. The pace of the city, not too fast, not too slow.
3. Bright red.
4. Sunday.
5. My work, my passion.

Female, Age 19
1. My first kiss in high school.
2. My friends and the nightlife.
3. Gold
4. My iPod mainly.
5. My alarm clock.

Female, Age 25
1. Playing with my sister on our front lawn in summer when we were about 7 and 10.
2. I love the mix of people here in Melbourne, and how it isn’t stuck up.
3. Sequin red
4. A good book and clean sheets.
5. Usually my hungry cat.

Male, Age 67
1. Playing with my brothers after school on the walk home.
2. Melbourne has retained its character and charm.
3. The colour of my darling’s eyes.
4. An afternoon sleep!
5. The smell of fresh air and coffee.

Thank You


Posted on Monday, February 16, 2009

Falling asleep
touching strangers’ feet
the rise and fall
of another’s chest
both blankets and mind are a mess

Falling asleep
in a defeated heap
a volcano sits dormant in my chest
heat rises and falls
legs and arms in a tangled mess

Falling asleep
I can still hear the beat
reverberating through my chest
festival eyes
see a compromise
self preservation at its best

Falling asleep
with nothing concrete
propositions on tram lines
detonate like landmines

The space between two minds
The faith that I’m only mine
The words that pass the time
The fear that I’m only mine
The sleep that takes its time
A stillness of the mind
The truth that I’m only mine.

you are

Posted on Thursday, February 12, 2009

you are not your tattoos
you are not your fancy shoes
you are not your edgy hair
you are not the clothes you wear
you are not the money you make
you are not the hearts you break

you are the stillness in between
all these seen things
you are the choices you make
when your world quakes

you are
you are
you are


Posted on Sunday, February 08, 2009

Monotony pulls curtains over my eyes
Chains that clink and join the days
Games that no one really wants to play
Mediocrity for eight hours a day
Glazed and picture perfect
Busy hands
Joints that ache as i pass the time
Hours that are not mine
Dollars vs time
Theirs vs mine
Waging demands in my mind
Escapism in my sleep
Dancing to my own beat
A picture book full of dreams
Lighthouses on top of seas
Waves roll through me
Starlight soaks into me
In to me
Fingerprints left on my skin
Dreams that stick to my lids
Poems that are painted on my lips
I knew there was more to this
I look around every corner for a clue
But it is my dreams that bring me back to you

Scratches on my Skin

Posted on Sunday, February 01, 2009

This is a story of a girl in a new city.
This is not a love story.
Nor is it a story of achieving any sort of inner clarity.
It is simply a tale of the events that may or may not have occurred one hot Melbourne night.

I awoke this morning in a drunken sweaty haze. My palms are clammy and there are aches and pains where there shouldn’t be. I run my fingers through my hair and slowly begin to open my eyes. The heat wraps itself around me like a sticky second skin. The forecast is for 43 degrees. I look over to my fan as it pushes hot hair around my room. I kick away the pillows on my bed and sit up to face the day. My head throbs from dehydration and my tongue is coated with the bitter after taste of a night where I drank to disconnect. Clothes lay scattered on my bedroom floor. I pick them up one by one and try to piece together how I got home. I find a pair of undies that are covered in sand.

Here is where the flashbacks begin.

Images from the night before appear unwittingly in my minds eye. Images that are as fuzzy and as nostalgic as old Polaroid pictures. Images like puzzle pieces, slotting together to form a blurry timeline from the moment I left the house yesterday afternoon until now. I try to switch it off. I am unsure if I can cope with these still frames of truth on an empty stomach. Relentlessly they come flooding into my mind, whether I want to see them or not.

I stand defeated under a cold shower. I hunch my shoulders and examine my body. On top of the aches and pains are fresh bruises and broken skin. My hands are red raw from gravel rash. The flesh on my knees is cut open and underneath these wounds is fresh red blood. I breathe in the sting as water washes over my punctured skin.

How the fuck did this happen?

I wrap the towel around me and get a shock of a lifetime as I see my reflection. My face….my fucking face! There is a graze from my chin, past my lips, and up to my cheek. It is coloured in an angry red. I am unsure as to whether or not I should laugh or cry. It looks absurd! I look absurd! I examine the damage closer. It’s looks as if I had gotten into a fight with a piece of sandpaper. Correction…several pieces of sand paper, and of the extra coarse variety. I ponder whether or not I will be able to cover it up with makeup. I wonder what my bosses will think. Tears swell up in my eyes but I bite down hard on the need to cry at such absurdity. It’s just some facial gravel rash, you’ll get over it.

I lay back down in front of the fan on my bed. I feel the minute pulses of pain throughout my body as it tries to heal itself. My mind is a mangled mess of a timeline from the night before.

Grassy hills. A cityscape in the distance. A beach littered with a thousand new faces. Smirnoff Blacks. The sound of a new voice. A new laugh. Planes mistaken for stars. A shooting star. Another wish. Another prayer whispered off into the summer air. Midnight swims. Sand in my undies. Swimming in a sea of black. Naked except for my sandy bottoms. Free from inhibition. Recklessness. Actions without consequence. Red bitten lips. Two strangers that kiss. Salty hair. An atmosphere free from responsibility laced the humid air.

Most of this is hit and miss.
Although I know for a fact that there was a kiss.

I listen to the fan as it oscillates. I feel emptied out. It pains me that I can’t remember the finer details of such a night. Was I even myself last night? That part of my personality that rises up every now and then really disturbs me. It is that ruthlessness in my actions that is completely uncharacteristic of my nature. Rarely do I let go and live in the two dimensions. There is always some conscious part of me that is endlessly weighing up situations and anchoring me to something more. I don’t dislike this facet of my personality, but when I wake up bruised and battered with no answers as to why I feel so defeated, I have to question it.

Finding the answers is never easy. They remain tucked away in the moment that was yesterday. Answers to questions I didn’t even think to ask play out in my patchwork memory. Consequence waits patiently to unfold at the right moment. Actions without thought will have their course. I sit still and wait for the answers to fall. I fill my stomach with food but remain entirely unsatisfied. I sit cross legged on a tidy bed, letting the fan cool my sweaty skin. I wonder why I feel so violated when I let someone in. I like my bed empty. I like falling asleep alone. I like it when I never have to use my phone. I like being still as answers rise up during the silent time, when there are no distractions chewing up my time.

I like knowing that I am only mine.

As I said before, this is no love story.
It is simply a story of a girl who woke up with stinging skin.