writing

Things That Stay

They had projected sharpie onto me
Black and smudged and permanent.

Then I lost the label declining in denial
Rifle ready in my hand to cause a riot
Black ink spreading til my lips were sealed in quiet
Detrimental poisoning caused me lastingly riled

Deranged, hopped up, unbalanced, more,
Torn from the bladder,
Left strewn on the floor.
A tag in which was covered in matter.
Burned thirteen times, stamped on, stabbed,
Dragged through wild winds and pinned
Still pinned, and permanent to my skin.

Label

Girls in school were so mean. Girls in Catholic grammar single sex schools were downright nasty.

writing

Three Times Over

This world wasn’t meant for me.

Not for my existence, or my anxiety, or my depression, taking up necessary atoms and photons and neutrons and particles to help make the earth spin on its axis.

This world doesn’t belong to me.

I let it go unwillingly with volatile and timid hands, the very pair that left me maimed and afraid to face society. Instead I developed a habit of losing things.

This world will drive me insane.

By midnight you’ll have loved and left me stranded on a platform with no way to stay asleep and no destination but still nervous of having to wake up the next day.

Nervous

oh, i’m still here.

book review · books

Book Review – Of Things Gone Astray – Janina Matthewson

Of Things Gone Astray by Janina Matthewson

See that guys, it’s a succulent plant that ISN’T DEAD (yet). It’s still alive. It lived longer than my last kid – at this point my old one was leaking water and crying out for help.

Anyway, Of Things Gone Astray is like the type of book I would one day like to write. It’s imaginative, and comforting, and I don’t feel overwhelmed by any type of plot being forced in my face.

The basic premise is that a group of individuals wake one morning to find something important to them missing: the front of their house (yes, really), their sense of direction, their status, their looks, material and immaterial possessions. Told in the form of drabbles, this collection of perspectives is wonderfully unique and funny, and puts a smile on my face when I have shit days (note: every day is a shit day).

At the end of it I’m not even 100% sure what I’ve just read but it’s made me think about all the things I’ve lost, of all the things I hope to gain. It’s realistic in a sense that it’s not realistic at all but just enough for me to feel like, if I don’t hold on tight to the things that matter to me, they could be gone the next minute.

writing

The Reckoning

We escaped in hunger through crowds of amber,
Flames seized your twisted legs and caused
A reckoning, to shroud you in dread and terror.
They descended as a monstrous pack of shadows,
Clawing rapidly at your bleeding soul,
A hole the size of the black spattered universe.

I asked you if we would endure to see blue,
The hue of the sky in our peripheral vision,
The minerals of the earth planting roots in our feet.
Those trolls washed back and drowned in hell,
We healed and floated upon the foamy shore.
They’ll swarm again until there’s nothing left.

Swarm

i am not living i am merely existing.
i am not living i am merely existing.
i am not living i am merely existing.

Things I need:
– new job
– new life

book review · books

Book Review – Strange Weather in Tokyo – Hiromi Kawakami 

Strange Weather in Tokyo by Hiromi Kawakami

I struggled writing this review, not because I think the book is terrible but perhaps because this is just one of those novels with a very Japanese aesthetic, and one of the problems I have while reading foreign translations of things. Sometimes I’m not sure whether I’m reading something the way the author intends, but that’s very minor and arbitrary.

Strange Weather is a beautiful, shy kind of love story between a young woman in her thirties and her Sensei who taught her Japanese in high school. And honestly, it doesn’t read as a love story in case you hate that soppy stuff (which I do). The back and forth interactions between Tsukiko and her Sensei, and the slow development of their relationship is delicate in places and amusing in others.

The only part I was trying to get over was the great age difference between Tsukiko and Sensei, which is about thirty-odd years. It’s a May-December relationship that takes some getting used to, or maybe that’s just me.

You’re drawn into these characters with differences between them (but not exact polar-opposites) and now and then you remember that Sensei is old – he’s very much old – and Tsukiko is in limbo; she never had a ‘successful’ relationship or learned to love. I think that’s what ultimately makes you root for these two people, stranded in the same lonely presence of each other, to fall in love.

Kawakami doesn’t dance around the fact that this is essentially a love story though, and the way that it’s told is so refreshing to readers like me with piss poor attention span. Each ‘chapter’ almost qualifies as a short story, snapshots of the growing relationship between both protagonists.

writing

On How to Grow Darkness

These creases in my palms caused angst to grow.
I planted misery with blood and waited,
Bated breath held hostage in my lungs.
My mind slowly unraveled and came undone
And hesitation clouded sensibility,
Until I ran, I split, I sped and soared
Awarding me that final gulp
Of air.

Packed densely with fear and doubt
And blindly I felt until I soared again
Landing deftly into the darkest clearing,
Disappearing back into the creases of my mind.

Doubt

it’s never as easy as running full force into a wall and knocking the ill feeling out of you. it doesn’t help, it only makes you feel better for a minute.

book review · books

Book Review – A Series of Unfortunate Events – Lemony Snicket

A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket

Every now and then I separate one of these books from their unfortunate family and have a read through some chapters, for want of reminiscing my childhood – years made slightly happier by the adventures that happen within the pages of these books.

A Series of Unfortunate Events is probably one of the most unique series I’ve come across (in my kid-days). They were the first Gothic novels I ever read, but adding to the fact that it’s a peculiar genre for kids, Handler’s writing style and gift of story-telling is darkly humorous, sarcastic, and witty.

For a child, these are all the things you dream of reading, or imagine adult books are littered with. It just so happens Handler does it phenomenally.

These books, if not anything else, taught me from a very young age that adults should not be trusted. Adults are crappy human beings who will never believe what children say. As an adult-in-practice, I’m inclined to believe the lessons I learned are true. Just how many times can you explain to your guardians that there is a bad man, an evil man, a villainous man who is after your parents’ entire family fortune and would do anything to get his hands on it, including murder?

Read these as a kid, or read these as an adult, it doesn’t matter. The unfortunate adventures in this series is worth your time.

If you’re lazy, watch the Netflix show for the kooky and stunning cinematography.