Out into your peripheries.

You are, you are the sleep that holds me
tightly to my bed as my limbs are longing to wander.
And you can't hear me through the bad reception
But my voice is tremblin', full of wanting.

"Honey, can't you see out into your peripheries,
that it ain't just you and me now, it ain't just you and me:

Do you hear the sound? Hear the sound? Of the sea?"


CAN YOU FEEL IT ALL?

These are clumsy words.

I will find all my pieces
locked inside the gifts I have given
as I have aged.
Everything you take from me,
shows me I am more whole than

ever before.

English, Texts and Writing at UWS

It seems that the argument is the main event. We need to show that the tone of voice you're yelling in, and the grammar of your speech are the clinching features. The medium is the message. Marshall McLuhan. The form is the creation. A frustrated Mr Conti tries to explain the foundation of Romantic debates in regard to Rousseau and the anti-transcendency that formed modernism. Words are exchanged like "dynamism" and "rapid change". But it washes over my head like the steady weather change that is consuming my home town as they speak.

They claim "WE NEED THE UNCONSCIOUSNESS OF HUMANITY - their stupidity, animalism and dreams." But what of this unconsciousness? The mind numb I feel brings no enlightenment like it had intended to inspire. And what of dreams?

Yesterday - Now

Yesterday

I have this unshakeable sadness. I can feel it welling up in my head and spilling out into my insides, dribbling into and filling my limbs.

This morning

I am in the deli, our only deli, and my coffee tastes more bitter than normal. I find this extremely satisfying. I have begun to enjoy bitter things. Sour. Tart. I need things that assault the senses because I'm afraid that I won't feel anything at all if I go back to the regular. That I've dulled my capabilities. Sensibilities. Senses. I have hot, cold and bitter. And tired, so very tired.

Now

Two phone calls and now I'm hurtling through slow motion. I'm ready.

On a train from Parramatta station

Join me on a train to Wentworth Falls station every time you feel smaller than you are, and I will find a way to fill you up with what you need. Nothing more.
-
Lurching forward into the dark, under stars I could see if I squint harder, I can hardly sleep for thought of you.