The Fly

Little fly,

Thy summer's play

My thoughtless hand

Has brushed away.

Am not I

A fly like thee?

Or art not thou

A man like me?

For I dance

And drink and sing,

Till some blind hand

Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life

And strength and breath

And the want

Of thought is death,

Then am I

A happy fly,

If I live,

Or if I die.

William Blake.

The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

That, for all they car, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am

Of stars that do not give a damn,

I cannot, now I see them, say

I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,

I should learn to look at an empty sky

And feel its total darkness sublime,

Though this might take me a little time.

W. H. Auden

O captain! my captain!

I.

O CAPTAIN! my captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we
sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people are
exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim
and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
Leave you not the little spot,
Where on the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

II.

O captain! my captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle
trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the
shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager
faces turning;
O captain! dear father!
This arm I push beneath you;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

III.

My captain does not answer, his lips are pale and
still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor
will:
But the ship, the ship is anchor'd safe, its voyage
closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with
object won:
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with silent tread,
Walk the spot my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman

Invictus

(unconquered)

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley.

selection

a

Anatidaephobia

The fear that wherever you are, a duck is watching you.

e.e. cummings

i love you much(most beautiful darling) by: e.e. cummings

i love you much(most beautiful darling) more than anyone on the earth and i like you better than everything in the sky -sunlight and singing welcome your coming although winter may be everywhere with such a silence and such a darkness noone can quite begin to guess (except my life)the true time of year- and if what calls itself a world should have the luck to hear such singing(or glimpse such sunlight as will leap higher than high through gayer than gayest someone's heart at your each nearness)everyone certainly would(my most beautiful darling)believe in nothing but love

inconceivable

The Princess Bride > Jazz

Sorry, but it's true.

hello

Talk to me. Say something. Say anything. I'm curious as to what's on your mind.

Photograph by August Sander

munch munch munch

Yesterday, as I was walking to my house and munching a chocolate chip cookie, I began to wonder what my perfect shopping list would be. Now obviously, this is not something on which I could live daily. It really just represents the weird and wonderful foods I enjoy when I have the opportunity.

My Ideal Shopping List:

1. Bread - preferably multi-grain or sourdough.
2. Strawberries
3. Danish butter
4. Chocolate Chip Cookies
5. Avocados
6. Honeycomb
7. Goats cheese - 'Holy Goat'
8. Pickled Herrings
9. Soda Water
10. Crispy m&ms
11. Peanut butter (an essential)

Ps. Cats are strange things. There are currently two on my bed fighting. But, when one has had enough he'll jump off the bed and calm down for a minute. Then he'll rejoin the other on the bed and start licking him. Odd.

m and m's

Wow.

genius hair

Last Thursday I was introduced to the notion of 'genius hair'. This concept proposes that true genii have hair that verges on the outrageous, and is styled or left unkempt in a fashion which complements their brilliance and commonly eccentric nature. Naturally such genii includes:

Ludwig van Beethoven

Albrecht Durer

Albert Einstein

Ezra Pound

and, Marie Antoinette

Personally, I wouldn't mind having genius hair. There's something quite cool about the fact that you could roll out of bed and suddenly have the hair of true sagacity. I suppose it has something to do with the idea of being able to constantly maintain a calm facade, even when things go a little crazy - even if the craziest thing is your hair.

ps. I particularly like the Pound photograph. Partially because he has a look that if his eyes were to roll back in his head, he'd look just like a zombie. Also partially because it's a Henri Cartier-Bresson portrait, and I can't resist Henri.

pps. Who else thinks that Durer is a poser?

polari:

The lost language of gay men.

Recently I became aware of Polari, a supposedly 'homosexual' language used in the 1970s-80s. Today, Polari is more of a novelty, presenting a style of discourse we would probably consider stereotypical of a very enthusiastic or hyperbolic gay man. There is even a Polari dictionary, written by Paul Baker, aptly named 'Fantabulosa'.

I came across this interesting and highly amusing language in a Self and Other lecture that focused on the identification of gender and sexuality through discourse. What particularly piqued my interest was an example of this 'gayspeak' in the lecture, and then the translated comparison:

"As feely homies, when we launched ourselves on the gay scene, Polari was all the rage. We would zhoosh our riahs, powder our eeks, climb into our bona new drag, don our batts and troll off to some bona bijou bar. In the bar, we would stand around parlyaring with our sisters, varda the bona cartes on the butch homie ajax who, if we fluttered our ogleriahs, might just troll over to offer a light."

Which, when 'translated', means something a bit more like this:

"As young men, when we launched ourselves on the gay scene, Polari was all the rage. We would fix our hair, powder our faces, climb into our nice new clothes, don our shoes and cruise to some nice small bar. In the bar, we would stand around chatting with our gay friends, admiring the nice bulge in the pants of the butch man nearby who, if we fluttered our eyelashes, might just wander over to offer a light."

My favourite word would have to be ogelriahs. It just seems so logical.

Well. I hope you enjoyed my departure into the distinctive lingo of the 'gay male'. I should go finish cleaning my room now.

bah

It's technically the 3rd and thus a new day. I feel justified blogging in such quick succession now. I just wanted to share with you this image of 'thinks-he's-low-maintenance-but-is-actually-high-maintenance' sheep. Enjoy.

I should definitely get over this site already. Thank you for being so quirky.

the wonders of tea

*chuckle*

why...

Why do all the little things seem so important? Why are they the things you want or worry about most? Why are they the things you snap about? Why is saying sorry afterwards so hard? Why is it hearing the 'it's okay' after the sorry so important?


Why do I overanalyse?

rabbit bag

It's so cute.

I'm flying away to Perth on Thursday night so I can go and sleep on my cousin's floor. He's turning 21 and I promised I'd be there. So come rain, hail or viral illness I will be there for his birthday shindig on Saturday. Aren't I fantastic?

new post

It's been a while since I've bothered blogging. A lot has probably happened since I last posted something, but chances are that if you're reading this you'll already know that. The most significant occurrence as of late would be that I am now employed. Unfortunately, whilst employment comes with many benefits (the most obvious being money) it also poses many dilemmas on which I must deliberate. I am currently torn, as most people who suddenly find themselves with an income are, about what to do with it - whether to save it sensibly, or recklessly spend it. If you have any advice about whether or not to be financially responsible (or even what I should spend it on (within reason)) please say so.

Also, whilst on the topic of finances, I found this interesting method of storing financial documents.

'The jars hanging from the ceiling in the showroom ... are filled with their old financial statements.'

credit: The Selby

devastate me

This was an entry in the 2008 PNAN Youth Arts Festival, a competition of sorts which centres around drugs and alcohol.

I'm not sure why I like it so much. In fact I'm not sure if I do at all. But it managed to completely captivate me.

blah blah blah

'sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me.'

If you've spent any time in some sort of school system, you will know just how inaccurate this little mantra is. As children we are all fed the same phrase, essentially teaching us to pretend that the mean words and people aren't there. But as you get older, the verbal sticks and stones grow more accurate and often more painful - and less forgivable as a result. Today I discovered the true extent of just how hurtful and frightening words can be. Of course this wasn't surprising, but it was distressing nonetheless.