mssentient

mood: bereft
(where are all the good adjectives?)

acrid wafts of incarcerated urine on parole in my vestibule. I am offended! tears of stale lemon stinging my cheeks - I had completed my transformation on facebook and now the winds howl like a hyaena (http://www.hyaena.ge/) beneath the boards under wash instrument, and I recoil at the menacing injustice wrought upon my abode. yet again.

wrath. and then the onslaught of bleach will belch from the fathoms, lest reaping success, will be followed by a trampling of wood and wrenching of the stability which suspends my cooking place. arrgghhhh. will...it...never....cease? devastation.

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another morning broken by my head calibrating audibly, cranking its content busily, after only 2 hours 50 mins sleep. revelations, theories previously unthought, blood-letting. tried to capture what may make sense after a nap - there's a research paper in there somewhere. something about consciousness, connection, neural mapping, release of sustained negative emotional states.

last night's party remembered. feel for the double ridge of the sjambok slashes that twinge with regret of not going the triple. the absence of the feeling of having been caned suddenly present. would have been disappointing, given the two weeks of anticipation, EXCEPT for the 20 pinprick scabs lined up butterfly style along my shoulder blades, sparking like infinitesimal electric shocks across my pillow. touch the ones on my chest: remembering witnessing the rapid expansion of pupils and their slow lolling back behind eyelids-inspiration to give it a go.

there isn't an onomatopoeic utterance to translate watching the shadow precipitating the precise penetration of pain, slow tide of endorphines washing over me, shallowed breath, constricted by the firmness of my laced leather top, within which my heart ricocheted, the hot flush of sensation of his inquiring gaze, and just letting myself respond.

enabled by the persistent and oscillating tentativeness that's seamed our friendship, which could have dissipated sooner into disinterest, or, escalated too quickly and automatically beyond me, casting a shadow over my naiive but billowing sensuality, precociously tumultuous within and so tangible on the surface - to those who do not notice the absence of agency; are satisfied with having themselves reflected back - but so stilted and ethereal, frozen, when you get up close. pleasure translated into obscurity, for fear of its loss, thus becoming geography for others' desire. how uniquely precious to have had the space for it to waver and emerge, just a little more.

and to value that quality, once despised in myself, now recognised in another.

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relief and smiles all round as Bob shares the news - the biggest blockage the plummer has ever encountered extracted from #61's pipes: shit and tampons. did we need to know? yes, that is satisfying. apparently we have had sewerage in the inner-city since the 30's, so that's plenty of time to gather a staunch barricade. neighbours shared the smell but I'm the only one who reported. what gives?

heroes of the day: Bob and his plummer.

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another successful night pimping it out. hooked girlfriend up, who will remain nameless - let me call her D - with "gorgeous" local barman, on the pretence of going disco dancing. there was no pretence about the intention to dance but it wasn't his moves she wanted to see.

D isn't the first friend to benefit from the precarious vicarious skills I obviously possess. rekindles my interest in dabbling professionally in the dating game. t, if only you'd listened and taken me up on my offer to proffer, you might now suffer, at least with more fond memories.

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the stench of pervy upstairs neighbour's shower water permeating my apartment, sounds of Bob sucking it out the drain outside, poking around in the hole and then the dripping - the intermittent rain on my washing, and the river-brown water in the doorway to kitchen, filling three buckets. all the while Sassy chewing a mohawk on her speckled dog-arse. good excuse to not do any work, again. will have to get myself a sugar-daddy.
.

struggling to do any work at all - motivation sapped by my almost ex-manager who has withdrawn offers of a reference because I won't be her friend - a professional strategy appropriately underscored by the interminable smell of sewerage emanating from beneath the floorboards. restrained from personal assault upon her pathetic ethics, like a phoenix, I kick up ashes, and open the SMH.

self-reflexive interface: if only I did not have to be so damnably, kamikazily honest in ALL my interrelations. it's like there's only one rule in the game.

and recovering from yet another night of lubricated social engagement. last night a gallery opening of Steven Vella's work in shellac, stains, gold leaf on board - reflected the glint in my eye but refracted beyond the budget of the soon to be unemployed. request to sit for a local painter coyly accepted. more drinks at the duke. more people met. home too late, again, to take this working from home business seriously.

with avoidance, I wonder by what tissue mechanics my head remains fitted obliquely on my modiglianiesque (as-I-fondly-recall-it-once-being-called-on-a-train-in-a-resonant-voice-by-a-mature-bearded-painter) neck; I resolve to set the weekend ablaze and instigate a disco-inferno at some inadequate local venue; I respond to the threat of visual confrontation with pictures of blotchy genitalia, with an extended invitation to t to share it with the LJ world.

I look forward tonight's reviewing of a favourite movie, the tenant, with P - not only for Polanski, piss and pheonix.

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went to see 'the holy mountain' last night, toads in battle costume evoking recollections of a hazy viewing at the valhalla over a decade before. proceeded to drink myself stupid, in good company, but not too stupid to miss the opportunity to torment faceless taxi driver with highschool backseat antics.

in the dark smokey morning an invitation to persist with restrictive pleasures thwarted by volcanic disturbances, and yet another necessity to cut rope. slumber, eggs, and more soft and simple, indulgent emptiness til 5pm. noodles and kill bill volume II - kicks ass - will ensue.

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8:30pm

well, I'm pretty excited cos I just popped my rhomboid in yoga. The rhomboid major is a muscle on the back that connects the scapula with the vertebrae of the spinal column. it is innervated by the dorsal scapular nerve. (I lifted that from wikipedia)

I'm in agony. I had been expecting it. I let that crank couchsurfer loose on me - lucky I stopped him when I did. got my right temple throbbing.

Daz had a good go at dinner last night. and today I felt it in my cheek. I had a burning sensation in my right forearm, which thwarted my supta kurmasana vinyasa out.

but it should sort my whole right side.

need to buy a hot water bottle. sure wish I'd bought that $3G wooden japanese bath.

acchhhhh!

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the big orange billiard ball in the sky on wednesday got me so exultant about the unproclaimed beauty of what just is, it distracted me, momentarily, from my self-consciousness and got me laying in the street talking to passers-by. I was trying to take photos, impossibly, without any sort of tripod, bouncing the nikon around on my knees, neighbour's rubbish bin and my car roof, holding my breath. friend called: a cosmic reminder of why I like him so much, sharing thoughts of ancients and forfeiting our selves to insignificance. all whilst couchsurfer cooks north indian for me in my kitchen, stereo screaming requiem out onto the street. wine matching the moon.

recollection of a solar eclipse, 1977. I must have been 8, shuttered behind venetians, strips of light to fear. don't look you'll go blind! just wait another 11 years, I'll make up my own mind.

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as it turns out, 'even' a masochist DOES get into sisal.

I tied Person into a sisal straight-jacket, the sisal scoring into his shoulder and (already scratched-up) wrists. head tied to feet, blind-folded.

watching him writhing was intense. I wanted to know what he was experiencing, drawn into his anguish with empathic awe.

with less distance this time, something quite noble is visible from up top.

left a rope hickey on Person's shoulder.

back to bunnings...

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