Eating Flowers

voices to voices,lip to lip
i swear(to no one everyone)constitutes
undying;or whatever this and that petal confutes...
to exist being a peculiar form of sleep

what's beyond logic happens beneath will;
nor can these moments be translated:i say
that even after April
by God there is no excuse for May

-bring forth your flowers and machinery: sculpture and prose
flowers guess and miss
machinery is the more accurate, yes
it delivers the goods,Heaven knows

(yet are we mindful,though not as yet awake,
of ourselves which shout and cling,being
for a little while and which easily break
in spite of the best overseeing)

i mean that the blond abscence of any program
except last and always and first to live
makes unimportant what i and you believe;
not for philosophy does this rose give a damn...

bring on your fireworks,which are a mixed
splendor of piston and of pistil;very well
provided an instant may be fixed
so that it will not rub,like any other pastel.

(While you and i have lips and voices which
are for kissing and to sing with
who cares if some oneyed son of a bitch
invents an instrument to measure Spring with?

each dream nascitur,is not made...)
why then to Hell with that: the other; this,
since the thing perhaps is
to eat flowers and not to be afraid.

Today i found a seashell that is 16 million years old...

I know this because my irish-archeologist-somewhat-insane-geology lecturer tells me so. In conclusion, spending 9 hours on a bus with people who's primary fasciation in life is small clumps of soil...not fun. I stand corrected... sometimes those lumps of soil are quite large. But I say, a rock is a rock...is a rock is a rock is a rock.

But holding this little shell in my pastey pastey hands, I felt a little disenchanted. I don't know if it was the severe lack of sleep due to abusive phone calls this week, or the two cheap beers I had drunk on the bus on the way there (... so, I happened to make friends with the 25 year old guy who had been at a two day long house party prior to the excursion, and arrived fresh at the bus after his last drink. So naturally, we decided the cure for his pre-emptive hangover was to have a few more on the bus, bitch about the subject and listen to some electro-trash for three hours)... where was I? Oh right, so I don't know if it was the lack of sleep or the excrutiatingly cheap beer, but holding the tiny home of a 16 million year old creature in my hands made me think of all the little things that have been niggling away at me for the last week, or even, just that day.

It made me think of the walk towards the beach, when the two guys behind me saw a youngish lady swimming in the water. They decided she couldn't be 'a chick' because 'her tits were way too small'. Apparently the lack of playboy-esque proportions made her no longer even female. So when I turned around to point out to them that maybe they should talk about her like a human being and stop acting like absolute pratts (I must say it was probably my most feminist hour yet), they simply stared at me and continued on.

Which made me think of the petty way in which people have used social networking on the internet to get their kicks. At least five calls last week, from a person on a friends list, calling me 99% of existing profanities and then threatening to 'stomp my face in'? Not what I call networking really, more like, psychotic/ sadistic experimentation. Freud, anyone? ...no?

Which made me think of the mildly insane and homeless man who yelled at me on the train this morning. I'm not sure what he was saying. But I'm quite sure he knew. He wasn't yelling at me. More to me. I sat, relatievly patiently, slightly worried, but nevertheless, attentively. He shouted obscurities at me and referred to the haikus that tragic 49 year old women write and send in to be plastered on train walls...
'sitting on the train
I see the homeless man beg
my inintial response is to write a haiku about it and enter it into a schmoozy arts competition this will really be helpful to him and make it seem like I care wont it?'
And that's not even a typical five-seven-fiver-er...

Which made me think of seashells, and how when you hold them to your ear they tell you the rushing sound is that of the ocean, captured inside and crashing against the walls within... but the sound is just your blood, captured inside you and crashing against the walls within.

Today I found a seashell that is 16 million years old. I haven't even tried to listen to the sound of 16 million years of salty water. I think I will give it to someone who is more careful and caring than I am, and maybe it will last 16 million more.

xxxx

Those Days Are Dead.

HELLO YOU. It's been a while, no? How are you?
Above are some of the pretty pictures I've amassed in the last little while and they make me super happy. What makes you super happy?
These are other things that make me super happy:
-Brand NEWWWWWWW. Particularly Jesse Lacey and his ridiculous screaming.
-Animal Collective, because they make me want to dance like a crazy thing.
-ANYTHING THAT SPARKLES. I went with some friends to the Camberwell Market the other day and everything I bought was covered in sparkles/made entirely of sparkles. HOW EXCELLENT.
-Ridiculous drunken conversations.
-Having a break from uni, OH MY GOSH, best ever.
-Discovering new music.
-My crazy happy music teacher.
-Caffeine, as a general rule.
-Going to ridiculous mental festivals and hippie things with Lucinda, my lovely hippie.
-Friendships that don't disintegrate even when you think they will.

Here are things that don't make me super happy:
-My hips hurt so bad. I ran around the city in heels last night. Mthrfckr. The night itself was a bunch o' fun however.
-That feeling after a night of drunken conversation-OH HELLO LIVER HOW ARE YOU?!?!?!
-My S & O essay. Sociology, bitch please, I don't even understand you. How can I possibly be expected to write an essay on you.

What do you like? I like you.

xx

I Googled 'whimsical picture' and...it was the first result

I feel bad for not having posted for like 100 years, so to appease the clearly enormous and rabid fanbase of this blog, I give you:

THINGS PIGSTILTS LOVES

...because even though it's a rant blog, I currently have no grievances to air that haven't already been aired both loudly and at length this week. But, if it's any consolation, the list probably won't be very long.

AND NOW THIS IS OLD POST but I'm posting it anyway, because otherwise it will languish in drafts for EVER. Oh no.


♣ Coming home to daysleeps and WhiteCat after being away
♣ Greek Gods and Goddesses
♣ Being inspired to make things late at night (earlyinthemorning)
♣ Wings and gold and mixtapes
♣ Summer Glau
♣ Couture week. !!!
♣ Writing stories that begin one way, then take you by surprise and become something else altogether, something new
♣ Kirby
♣ Gareth David-Lloyd
♣ Spreading trees with obstinate branches that present juuuust enough of a challenge
♣ Veronica Mars
♣ Oh my god, delicious cake
♣ Dinosaur Comics, "Attention, enemies! Why not come onto my lawn for a second" and "I accidentally drank 40 lemons!"
♣ Stealth planes, the stars and the universe which encompasses them, and oxford commas.
Current things that I love:
♣ The ridiculous post I'm writing, oh my god, this blog is so not the right place to post it but I probably will anyway
♣ Battlestar Galactica! Oh my god, you guys, I know I rave about this all the time, but seriously...I know a lot of sci-fi is "good if you like that sort of thing", but this is more...it's "good despite being that sort of thing". Put it this way: most TV - most movies, even - doesn't make me cry. But I'm rewatching with my mum, right, and this is how phenomenal it is: it can utterly destroy you with a pronoun. Guys, I love (spoilers? not really, but talk of a mid-season-2 episode...Mr Fancy.) Crazy Gaius, but he's crazy, and he's not the one you look to for those deep emotional sorts of things, which, I suspect, is why it's so very destructive when he says things like "We treat it like the person it pretends to be", and why a robot eating a piece of fruit as he tells her about the woman he's in love with - which isn't her, but they look just the same - made me cry. (And I'm not ashamed to say it, right, because nobody didn't cry.) Goddamn.

Guys is my litnerd showing? I think I lose credits for it being a TV show though. But still. Only Mr Fancy knows what I'm talking about (although I have my suspicions that he watches it for all the ridiculously attractive people instead of the crying business. Pshaw).



Aaaand just so the universe doesn't implode, here are some

THINGS PIGSTILTS HATES

♣ Accidentally alienating friends;
♣ Smug, blindly opinionated jerks (...sorry, couldn't help it)
♣ Russell T Davies. WHY DO YOU HATE WHAT YOU HAVE BUILT? And, on a related note, why do you hate me?
♣ Unrealised artistic ambition
♣ Being awoken by the next-door-neighbour using like a jackhammer or something, what the hell
♣ FOR LIKE AN HOUR
♣ who even does that

Oh how can you breathe little blue? You have hooks, you have holes in you.

Uggggghhhhhhh. Have had an interesting last couple of weeks.
Got exceptionally, ridiculously drunk on Thursday night, at a ball with a bunch of people I barely new. When combined with "many-people-I-don't-really-know" nerves, the outcome was predictable: extreme ranting about various television shows I grew up on, people I hate, stupid things I do, stupid things other people do, plus general too loud talking, yelling, verbal abuse and terrible dancing.
Remedied this on Friday/Saturday/Sunday with: Eight billion cups of tea, not enough homework, immense anxious stressing, eight billion more cups of coffee, pizza, going out more (but minus the drinking, and with the added bonus of gross headcold), panic eating, and listening to Augie March and Maria Taylor while stress texting my good friend Face.
Luckily the damage didn't seem to be too bad today. In general I don't seem to be too much of a social outcast. Moreso I mean.
Our old Anna is probably not All-Australian Miss Popular 2009.
But again, I say the old adage: "kill me if I ever drink that much again."
Of course, it always happens again.
Today I also got hit on by creepy contractors. Wandering through uni, I passed a couple of them, and they fell silent and stared creepily as I walked past, then one murmured "I'd marry that one."
..........................I'm not sure what reaction is appropriate to that.
Possibly: "That's funny because-FUCK OFF AND DIE." But maybe that's too forceful. Sorry. I am not in such a good mood today.
Anyway. I should probably go now, so I can get some sleep and/or beat myself to death before 7am childcare plus another university Day of Shame tomorrow.
I am Good At Life.
Over and out.
xx

So my comic book store is AMAZING!

It maybe just that i rrruuuvvveee the people who work there all the tiem (for privacy reasons let us dub them "Optimus" and "Prime").

Rehashing my exploits of the day:

So i all at work and such at the end of ma 7 hours of working and i gets the urge to mosie through ma weekly order of comic books. Unfortunately this means a lengthy train ride and walking around teh city and all the effort that entails (apparently ma legs just didn't want to move anymore). The overwhelming desire for dericious comic books won in the end (and a quick ponder over what Sir/Vin Diesel would do in this situation) and i hopped a train. It was about 30 minutes in that i realized - once i had finished another chapter of pheadophile sweedish vampire novel - that my bladder wished to expel my last working beer, along with my several working coffees and my occassional working water, all at once.

It was a painful 30 minutes later that ma bladder was allowed access to a restroom - involving an even moar painful miander up the parliament escalators that i was certain were going to rupture my overladen bladder.

10 minutes later - feeling very satisfied - i arrived at my goal to find "Optimus" and "Prime" being fantastic as always. This feeling intensified as "Optimus" offered me tasty tasty cookies as a reward for not wetting myself (after hearing my sad tale of woah). Then "Prime" was all liek "OMGOMGOMG I WAS IN SANFRAN AT THE COMICOMNOMNOMCONVENTION AND I DID ALL THESE THINGS AND BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH" and then ensued fantastic discussion and stories mixed with the two fighting over "Optimus" not buying "Prime" another solo and not giving him his 30 cents bish (ALSO: they fight liek little girls - "IT COST $2.70" "AND I GAVE YOU MORE MONEY THAN THAT" "OH WOW 30 CENTS HAVE YOUR MEASLEY CHANGE BOI" "BUY ME MORE DRINK!" "I SENT YOU TO GODDAMN SANFRAN AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME!!!!?!?!?!") and to top this hilarious encounter "Prime" proceeded to give me so many cheap comics. So many. ended up saving liek $30 because he was all liek "you can pay thiiisss much for this one and thiiissss one can be thiiiissss much BUT DON'T TELL ANYONE!!!")

i love these people.


PS: "Prime" apparently did the very same course i am doing, loves interpol and loves dericious beverages. I HAVE ALL THESE QUALITIES!! WHY DO I NOT HAS A JOB THERE?!?!?!?!?

Welcome Back; I Hate You.

Hello. I went back to uni today. Yada, yada. Here is my list of things I like and don't like today.

Dislikes:
-Rediscovering the part of uni I hate (most) eg. see this conversation I overheard today:
Girl One: Oh WOW, we, like, SO have to travel EVERYWHERE at the end of the year.
Girl Two: Oh, I KNOW, I KNOW (pulls out Iphone), LOOK! These are pictures from my last trip to Milan, and Spain, oh it's SO beautiful, we have to stay in some great hotels!
Girl Three: OH! I'm going to make a plan!!! Look, we'll start in BarcelONAAAAAAHHHH, and then go to Madrid, then to Milan, Paris, oh and then we can finish in PRAGUE!!!
Girls One and Two: *Appreciative giggling and hair flicking*
Girl Three: Oh and I know that it might be hard for you and Zoe to get the money, but it REALLY won't cost that much.
-Oh yes, let's all get on our private jets and go to MILAN, I hear the fashions are just DIVINE. Kill me. I had this for a whole lecture. I wanted to gouge a hole in my temple with my pen, tear out my ear drums, run screaming through the building, turn into the Hulk and destroy everything. But whatever, I'm sure they could just rebuild it with daddy's money.
I hear money is the ony way to get into uni-OHWAITASECOND.
(P.S. I apologise if you are rich and lovely. I just hate people as a general rule, particularly the ones that can travel to Milan for their Summer Holidays).
-Rediscovering the part of public transport I hate (most) eg. This conversation I overheard on the train today:
Girl One: What did you want to tell me on the tram??
Girl Two: Oh yeah!! That guy sitting across from us was TOTALLY checking you out!
Girl One: I bet he wasn't!
Girl Two: He was!
Girl One: No, he wasn't!
Girl Two: He totally was, he was like, looking at your two animals on a mountain (NB: apparently this is code for "tits", but fuck knows why, because I can't see a moose and a duck sitting on top of Everest looking like boobs... No, wait, okay, they COULD look like Courtney Love's boobs, potentially, but most people aren't Courtney-psychocrazybitch-Love).
Girl One: Just because you have mosquito bites!!! (NB: Also code for "tits". God, I can't believe I've said "tits" three times now.)
*Girls giggle hysterically*
Girl Two: But he totally was!
Girl One: He was not! He was probably just trying to work out what I was! He must've thought I was a gorilla!
Girl Two: What??? But you're not HAIRY!!!!
Girl One: I know, but I'm like, soooo ugly.
Girl Two: No you're not!
Girl One: Yes, I am! I'm uggggly!!!
Girl Two: Noooo!
-And so on to infinity.
-Anxiety. Bitch please, I hate you.
-Stress Rash. If I get another anxiety symptom, I will do what I mentioned above about destroying everything in a Hulk-esque manner.
-Feeling lonely. Whimper, sigh, whimper, self-pity, whimper, teenage poetry, and I'm spent.
-The "K" key on my keyboard doesn't work very well. Like, my life is so hard man.

Likes:
-The bizarre lecturer I had today. "So, this weekend I took my five year old son to the beach, and there were jellyfish and crabs and a big rock, and it was so peaceful... and then I saw a Rottweiler - you know those dogs that bite you and kill you? Yeah, so I saw a Rottweiler running towards us and I picked up my son to protect him, but then I realised it was going for me, so I picked up a rock and hit the dog over the head and it died. *growls into microphone* DIE DOG, DIE!!! Now............. how was it that I knew that that rock had the right qualities to kill a dog???"
-And this was for my lecture on Identity.
-The kitschy tote I bought today. It says "Love, Hi" on it, and has anime pictures of a boy and a girl sitting on a loveheart.
-Coffee. Mmmmmm.
-Bowie. MMMMMmmmmm.
-Lipstick.
-People who wear fake birds in their hair.
-Half Moose, Half Woman people. How I wish I were as brave as you, MooseWoman.

Anna
xx