Analyse my stream-of-consciousness if you dare.

There was always going to come a time when you had to make a choice, but how could you ever expect it to be so hard? The last thing on your mind that night was the view from your bedroom window, and the first thing you remember when you woke up was the cold numbness of my hands in the soft morning. The kaleidoscope life wasn’t for you, but you couldn’t help but twist. The last time you felt this way was watching the sun rise over the bird’s flute solo, the gold light bouncing off tomorrow’s hope, the tear in your eye drying in the wind on Hobart Street. It wasn’t a beginning and it wasn’t an end but at least the sound of your heart beat in time to the steps on the asphalt.

The scarf around your neck held on for dear life, but rigor mortis had already set in on your coat. The pockets wept out your belongings. The dizzy gypsies followed your futile fluted song and wept tears of disbelief. The salesman looked on in disapproval, adjusted his tie and stepped backwards on to the train tracks. The train danced by and stole his soul. The salesman got up, dusted himself off and ran a hand through his toupee as if combing a camel. He had to get to work. Yesterday the children ran through the streets singing kindergarten songs and beating up Arabs. Tomorrow the songs will have their revenge.

The balcony crumbled inwards as I scrunched up the piece of paper. The words on the page were already sure of their fate. Theirs was a cruel life. They were born knowing. They weren’t bound for glory, weren’t bound at all. Not even stapled. Just tossed, but saved the indignity of shredding.

Blake went down to the grocery store but nobody loved him so he bought a razor sharp pineapple and sat in the aisle trying to eat it skin and all. The spines stuck into his face and he looked like a puffer fish, if puffer fish could bleed. He died there but no one noticed. The old man complained but he couldn’t get the discount he rightfully deserved. Just take my own damn money old man. Just take it and shut the hell up.

They can’t do this to me. They can’t do this to us. We have rights and we will march into the streets and shout It in the faces of the clocks. The babies will be peeled from the prams and shaken, shaken, shaken, not stirred. Fuck the hell off with your headscarf. Go back to your own goddamn country and just shut the fuck up. Circumcise your women and sacrifice your lives for nothing. Live in fear and ignorance, just stay the hell away from us. We’re innocent.

Power to the people. Power to the masses. Power to the dangerous lunatics. March on. Don’t let the dogs catch our heels. Gas them, shoot them, hit them with your riot shields. We’re not stopping for anyone.

Billy fell in love. He couldn’t believe she felt the same way. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve someone so precious but he couldn’t waste time thinking about that. They ran away and got married. She was unfaithful and he knew but he loved her so he learned to deal with it. Once he was unfaithful too and then she left him.

Why can’t I write anything happy tonight? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I get my head on straight?


Just writing a 4 letter word and my heart goes bang bang bang like it’s trying to escape. Pericardium. What are the odds of two best friends from Perth both falling for girls from the Midwest that they met in Europe? I’m not copying him.

Why is she different to the rest of the Americans I’ve met?
She seems honest. She laughs at me but in a good way.
I can be myself around her.
When I talk to her I feel good about being Australian.
She listens and pays attention far more than most people.
She is so sexy. It’s like a crazy energy field I can almost see in a glow or taste in the electricity in the air. It’s something about the way she carries herself. She exudes… something.
She’s passionate about life.
She’s confident but not at the expense of other people.

But what do I really know? Julia thinks I’m crazy to have feelings for people I barely know. But how the fuck else do you ever get anywhere with people if you don’t start somewhere?

Keep your mouth shut. Keep your chin up. Take heart. Smile more. Don’t be afraid of getting hurt. Take more chances. Don’t take risks. Keep a regular diary. Have a plan. Have goals. Have a Career. Check that you have your wallet and credit card. Don’t look at anyone the wrong way. Don’t look at maps. Don’t look lost. Don’t start trouble. Watch out for dog shit in the street. Don’t fall for the scams. Don’t admit you can speak English to anyone in a train station. Don’t get too involved. Don’t let it get you down. Take deep breaths. Take time to yourself. Take care. Mind the gap. Don’t have hurt feelings. Don’t worry.

Will this clear my head, focus my thoughts, level my head, ease my mind? Maybe I should have just got drunk tonight.

One thought on “Analyse my stream-of-consciousness if you dare.

  1. So this is my response to those of you who mentioned my blog this week: an indecipherable mess. Actually I enjoy reading over this, trying to figure out the parts that are me and the parts that aren’t.It might freak people out to know that almost every day I write something that comes out as crazy as this.

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