Fairytruths...

Bleeding for Breath.
Drug drunken eyes.
Fearful of self-portraits.

We roll on beds like infants. The high ceilings concealing our identity:
Our bones made of snow, not ready to melt.
Our skin of blades of green grass, not ready to tear.
Limbs of remorse.
Home is non-existent.

Procelain Goldfishes Hanging from the Sky, they glower.Towering. Like Gods and Constellations.
These are to replace our shooting stars.
We wish upon each others roast marshmellows, under electric blue flames.

Before we blow it all out.
Hearing the light-weight hissing. It is not from the bon-fire.
Pagan. Witchcraft - almost.
Triviality - Death is seen in every photograph.
Static now, that was then liquidating.
Every particle, every frame, every strand, every smear.
Every untangible smell mixed in the atmospheric palette.
Every gap amidst the threads - the in-between's of the blacks and whites of the compressed glitters in one's now immortal, forever locked eyes.
Let ourselves fall out.

Beneath the stills.
We wish. and wish. and wish.
and dance.

Don't care what you wish for.

Poetry Dog Tag - 09.09.05

Begin, Beyond, With, Word, Behind, Blues, Heart, Here.
Fool, Never, Exit, Night, Eyes, Fragile.
Feel, Nectar, Fall, Fast.
Begin, Behind, With, Word, Beyond, Blues, Heart, Here.
Never, Exit, Eyes, Fool, Fragile, Eyes.
Muse, My, Most, Naked, End.

Recipe for a Good Evening

Favourite Hoodie, favourite, black flared sleeve-fronts.
Favourie scarf.
Great Hair with new shades gradulating through.
$3 earrings.
Visit Uni Stop (the Fairytale of Dairies) to get cash out, along with a Lift Plus I won't finish. Chocolate Biscuit: Cookie Times' New "Chocolate Fix" - "The Biscuit that thinks it's a Chocolate Bar.." with Golden uncrumpled packaging.
Hmm...it says to make it from Great to Marvellous, Shove the Biscuit in the Microwave for 15 seconds...except there's no microwave at the bus stop. Will have to try it at home next time. Except who eats large chocolate cookies at home?
Death Cab for Cutie compilation playing, easing my ear-ache.
Words that past like waves past me.
*Shhhhhhh* it seems to say. Or is that just the wind.
Waiting for the bus, getting colder and more still.
Grocery shopping, choosing hams and cheeses and pickles.

Looking forward to my own sandwich tomorrow.

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

I started reading my first Jodi Picoult today.
The heater blowing and shuffling repeatedly at the pages.

"There are some dreams that get stuck between your teeth when you sleep, so that when you open your mouth to yawn awake they fly right out of you."

It is the funniest thing I've ever heard. It almost makes nightmares seem that easy: like a bad breath, from forgetting to brush your teeth before bed because you are all grown up and who needs their mother to remind them...and with one toothbrush and paste, and cold fresh morning tap water, the scary chilly remains will be shed away. Those white Halloweens and Blue Easters and Maroon Christmas Trees and Black Wedding dresses.

Birds started to chirp at 4.47am... Insomnia is my best friend again.

A Simple Week...A Simple Life...

First week has gone by so quickly, upon return from NYO tour.
Good days are ahead. Suddenly feel light.

Sunday...
It started looking bright, on the bus ride down South.
Tears running down my cheeks to music seeping from my ipod, and farewell text messages from another soul running dry at the other end of the island..
Feeling a big gap forming, excited at the anticipation of what will fill it up, wee bit fearful of the unknown.


Monday...
Had no trouble getting out of bed, strolled down to Courtnenay Place for blood test, later to walk around sporting a trophy on my arm in the shape of a rather attractive, colourful looking bruise that didnt cease for days.
Time passed in a flash, lunch in the sun, with happy company and favourite salads - spicy kumara. *yummy*
A comfort in complete exhaustion, and self-satisfaction in seemingly making no effort to meet deadlines and obligations, from Monday Showcase to some empty sight-reading at Debussy, to the non-changing chronic approach with which we render Symphony Fantastique at youth orchestra, everyone pretending to be oblivious to the insult we place on an ancient artist's creation.. Who knows it is corroding us bit by bit by the minute...
Though only had own bed for one night, tonight was spent at another's. Falling asleep over domestic yet touching story of "Spanglish", and a brief encounter with the strange singer flat-mate who seemed desperate to be discrete at the same time finding it hard to resist eves-dropping. He is weird. Or I am easily persuaded by general prejudice. (Not so bad if it gives the 'prejudiced' more freedom?) I find humour in the awkwardness and find it hard not to smile in my sleep as my friend speculates and observes his discomfort.


Tuesday...
In the morning came a delightful text message from Kate: " Hey Honey how r u doing?How was tour ?Wat r u up to tonight?If ur not doing much can i take u for coffee?"
Three hours of orchestra (haven't had that in ages, hardly needed that much these days) passed in a wink, with a lovely evening to look forward to.
Really doesn't do it any justice, walking into Fidel's for the first time (yes, how can I manage to never set my foot in there for so long I will never understand.) I remember the LOTR phase and watching a documentary where Dominic and Elijah said..." This is our favourite cafe....Fidel's....in Cuba Mall...". How funny! Surreal..
Too close almost.
Had the bestest Mocca. The back, outdoor-sy section of the Cafe was hidden paradise. Somehow, Kate said, on Saturday night, bringing herself with a book, she can find this popular place surprisingly deserted. Walls of grundgy-toucheable-edgy-modern-DIY artworks of metals and woods and nails and paints and meshes and prints.....accompanied by cheap glossy-waxy candles and pot plants hanging down. Needless to say, I feel in love with the place in seconds.
We had great conversations. Confronting, but comfortable. Genuine, slightly serious, but great food for the soul. Afterwards, I visisted her awesome flat of dark red walls, thick wooden panels and thick stain glass artworks for windows on doors. Excited to be taught of a wonderful Wellingtonian singer: Leila Adu who is now a new and regular thing i switch on daily upon my return home. Glancing around, a picture of a dark cross in shadows caught my eye, and questions led to Kate showing me an astonishing collection of abandoned photographs shelved and boxed away by it's owner - one whom i'v heard so much of, somehow he has taken up an idealistic impression in my mind as a once loved young fearless warrior of real, generous virtues. Tangible and reacheable and yet so highly regarded. I was near brink of tears just viewing the images. So much can be communicated without speaking, he has no idea a life is already changed. The pictures left me hopeful again, thinking that I could be doing the same thing, affecting people without knowing.
Now the borrowed pictures sits on my bench in a pile which i shuffle through almost everyday.
"I have come as light into the world.
You are the ocean."
One of them says.

Got home at 10pm so as to charge my phone and not miss a much anticipated phone call from Cat.
Needless to say. My battery continues to run out again and again.
Tonight, reminds me so much of what I've forgotten: how much great conversations with great souls could be wholesome and healthy for each other.
We talked of many things. The trivial, the close to heart. The daily rituals. Coffee and Cancer Sticks. Television and Couches. Nights at pubs and evenings at home. Baking cakes at 11 in the night, when the rest of the house sleeps. Drinking yourself silly, till you still feel like chucking at 11 in the morning.
Lollies and Diets. Movies we saw. Movies to see. Movies we would write. Films....and life without. Love and lack of. Intimacy and platonic friendships. Leaving and coming. Giving and taking. Boundaries. Freedoms. Falling from grace.
Pets and People. Fools and Kings. Musicians and Film-buffs. Unwanted boyfriends and wanted trombone players. Us the straight's and them the not-so-straight's. Writers and motocyclists.
Errogance vs. Passion: illusion of fulfillment at knowledge of the world (as if every piece once known to you is yours), vs. acceptance and the taking part in the infinite mysteries we exist within.
and...
Something so funny that it is too delightful for us to remember. It was secretive, scathing, hypocritical, and far too clever.
Only sad things seem to last.
But still, I fell asleep peacefully. Not lightly. But at least without wishes of not waking up.
A grateful and happy prayer was said in the spirit of best intentions.


Wednesday...
..went by in a blur.
Feldenkrais in the morning was lovely if not painful. Practically went straight to my problem areas.
Afterwards left me feel like I am so recovered I could play and practice for five years straight without a break.
Trust THAT to happen! The only problem was that when I got to bed my neck was in so much pain my pillow was too tall and I could not sleep on it. Who knows, the next day I was to wake and not be able to touch my instrument for the entire day because the entirety of my neck feels like it is twice its size full way round I couldn't swallow solids. and MAN do i sound like a hypocondriac.

Appointment with Doctor Susie was boring, disappointing, unresolved. Repetitive , irritating and boring.
Annoying and boring. Boring, and boring.
I do not bear new grudges or wish to have any against another human being. Except I can't help but feel that if I were in her shoes, it's almost immediate and the easiest thing to assume your understanding once you hear the symptoms. I am no longer anonymous, at the same time I am. I am recognised, and subsequently shelved as another case belong to a certain catergory. This I do not like. But at the same time I decided not to let her down (which may ultimately let myself down), and told myself it is her job that she's doing, and she's 'only human' (which I basically just tell myself at times when I wish it to become the ultimate excuse that will leave my brain in peace of any other questions and doubts). Heck. We all have bad days sometimes. And at least, she is still showing passion for her work. Sometimes the two really doesn't mix, and we rub that air off one another far too often.
Or perhaps the conversations last night were just too good, today's seems over-cooked.

Moods took a surprising turn afterwards, as the hour of lesson approaches stress left me in tears again.
I feel incapable to play anything I see on the page. Instead made up my mind that I shall talk my way through the lesson, truthfully. Scary thing to do. But now I could say I've done it. Though not in the most flattering manner, but at least not in the most indignifying way. Bobby was thankfully very understanding and supportive. :o)

Thursday..
can't remember.
Oh. yes. Forgot to eat. Sore. That's about it.
Tried to read. Didn't work.
By 8.30 was shaking and had trouble typing, still not aware I havnt eaten. Got up and made some favourite Vanilla Expresso Chai Tea. What an idiot! By 10 o'clock finally clicked. Bedtime last feed was instant noodles.
(Hah....what can you expect eh?)



Friday...
Finally began Elliot Carter "Inner Song - Trilogy" aka. "most impossible to put together piece of shite for music".
Okay i didn't really mean that did i? It is wonderful. Brand new ensemble experience.
Ingrid is lovely as the harpist. I am sounding like a plain idiot who cannot count.
I have never spent 2 hours on 5 bars of music before. Hmm.....life's new ventures certainly takes me....very far....

After orchestra got invited by Gemma to her 'house' which she's house-sitting for dinner.
Walked in the house and there sits a puddle. Oooops. Daisy the dog peed on the floor. Euuuuw...
Reminds me of Hermie, Cat! The quietest dog you have to go hunting for her around the house calling out her name. And then she'll stroll by almost-90%-silently. *pad pad pad* Most most most shwweetest nose and ears. I suddenly didnt really mind cleaning after the pee....
I want a dog!!!!! Had enough of gold-fish!!! Can't afford turtles... *meh*
(mind you. before i walked in she was barking like peanuts at me....and everything else for that matter).
Afterwards we went to NZ String Quartet concert. They played masters' last works. I've decided I'm in no rush to like Beethoven. Opening work of Mendelssohn was wonderful: they seemed to have lived and breathed together. Bartok changed my life though. Couldn't help but flood myself with tears. So that made it a really beautiful evening. :)


Saturday...
A walk to the Botanical Gardens.
Bought a jellytip ice-cream on the way home (tag "something along the lines of " - line: 50 years of good ol' fashioned kiwi fun!)....it occured to me that the pink in it totally doesnt match the blues and blacks of my outfit today: fishnets, new slippers, and my old blue 60's style wide-flared Levi's...
Hm....so. Anybody gets concerned these days that their ice-cream don't match their clothes?
A white old 'hooter' of a car drove past with scruffy, unshaven weekend youth. Unlike the usuals (of avoiding gaze), it becomes easy to stare back as i take a bite. "so what?!" i say. it's funny what they do to you, demanding the same anguish and draw it out of you in a matter of seconds. Urgh. feels a bit grotesque.
i walk downhill and past a white fence, one which i usually take no special notice (other than that yeah it's white so i know it's white now and shall remember it's white thus stop looking at it everytime i walk past now i know it's white). But today, along with the hums of Beck's "Everybody's Gota Learn Sometimes", I spotted a dark, thickly outlined heart embedded on one of the white fence panels. It's kinda cute. Now I'll look forward to finding it everytime I walk past. Ah.....things we use to secure ourselves.
Going to Zeal tonight, first time. Excited. A Cafe for worship. "BluePrint on Saturday Nights" they call themselves. Next to a homeless gathering ground - Glover Park, and "Checkmate", a gay message parlour...
How patriotic.

Blueprint turned out to be SUCH a great night.
Kate informs me the evening will begin with Matty (flatmate of Travis who brought Kate to Blueprint) playing some new songs he wrote. We found amusement in a story Kate tells, of a conversation between her and Matty on great classical music in which he expressed his love for the "sophisticated" *ahem* piece: "Queen of Sheba" which left me chortling everytime I think of it. What about Ravel! The world is so great out there I shall feel so delighted that he'll have so much more to enjoy, if Queen of Sheba was so much to him already.
Now we couldn't help but refer to Matt secretly as the "Queen of Sheba".

So. The Queen of Sheba sang three pieces. Two guitars. Two singers. One word titles. Naming pieces on the spot. "Honesty". "Peace" ("yeah well, it's called Peace. i mean, it's now called Peace cuz i jus named it Peace jus now. that'll have to do")...and something else i cant remember but which i like the most, asking God to show him things to see that will continue to break his heart.

The talks that evening were amazing. I feel refilled again.
One thing I cannot forget was the two girls painting in the background.
The cafe has modern, red lighting at the bar and other dimmed stage lights. Behind the stage, was a canvas on the side. Two girls were using white and blue paint to work with. Later we find out, they were painting a "hungry person". A person in need. Would you call it exhibitionistic? I'm not sure. But the amazing thing was the generosity in being exposed of to others and inviting everyone to take part in observing the intimate workings of creating a painting. The other thing I loved was the communication without words, two people not talking just painting. There could be reconciliation, or conflict, and millions of other things. But suddenly I have an urge to do this: instead of asking friend out to a movie, why not extend an invitation to "paint with me"?
Oh well, just a thought.

Later that night, talked with quite a few people. The party intended to extend the night to Havana, but we ended up invading Fidels again. We had the best hot chips.Got invited to a day-trip next to the beach. Catch the train. Fish n' Chips. And a Mongolian BBQ/party. It was nice, awkward, tiring, to be around so many people of varying calibre.
Overwhelming and strangely familiar.

At the end of the night, when i got home, Kate prayed for me.
Thank you so so much Kate!

Cup Of Tea

Date: Sunday 28th August, 2005
When: Afternoon
Where: Desert Road, On the bus, Sun Shining Through
What: Bawling my eyes out

We had such an awesome NYO tour. It was so sad to see it end. Especially saying goodbye to John at The Occidental in the small wee hours of the morning...

Hugs. Promises to keep up the emails. Plain and Simple.
It was easier than I imagined.
Sadder than I would like to comprehend.
I was still angry and caught up in my own cobwebs, confused but didn't want to be. Failed to notice so many things.

Got to bed eventually at 4am. My mind couldn't sleep, my eyes forcing me to, while my heart ponders.

Then a lovely morning came, and a lovely day...
I was happily exhausted. Dunk'n Donuts, Bus-full of tired, hung-over musicians.
On the move, infinite views of vast fields of land and land...and land..

Beep. Beep. My fone says. I picked it up and is suddenly so overwhelmed tears have been coming and going ever since. How much I will miss a dear friend. It has finally hit me. So many things left unsaid. But aren't goodbyes always that way. Somehow makes it difficult to start writing emails again. Oh well, it'll happen soon. Promise. Even though life runs away with us....at least that's what we say. I shall think of you everytime I listen to Brahms now. Funny aye. Can't help it. I'll always smile through the tears at the great times we've had, and how inspired I will always be by your simple ways and wisdoms.... :' )

Poetry Dog Tag - 03.09.05

Nothing, Outside, Over, Us, Yet.

Existence, For, You, Move, Time, Forever, Morning.

Hurt, Imagine.

Wretched, Under, Sun, Omen.

They, Still, Tell, The, Sweet, Taste, Their, Strange, Rave.

Hang, Happy.