Charlie.

The sun washes the small world.
Through the clouds,
down the buildings,
the trees' canopy and onto the grass.

The brown in the blades begins with a winter unknown to hopeless reason.

The bashful break between seasons,
tempers your gentle hands,
the safe where you keep your affection has cracked now,
and the stylus inscribes new currents to companion that honey.

We can make the worst jokes together,
but the feeling of being is too sweet to savour,
we'll watch the walking Margate drunks with pride and acknowledge the world as warm and overcast.

For at least the weather to truly change,
a new day is born.

(This poem was written by one of my favourite writers and one of my closest friends.)

Overconsumption.

(Depressing, self reflective, an emotional wank of sorts.)

This last week and a half has been...

This last week and a half has been...

-Friend admitted to hospital.
For some reason this event is meant to have affected me more than anyone, according to the teacher that keeps pulling me aside and asking how I am "coping"? when really... I am not coping. I am blocking out the rage I feel, the hurt and the depression and masking it with my ill-tempered weakness and pitying doe eyes. Sigh... I suppose I shouldn't be this affected. My relationship with this person has changed. But why? I ask myself what I'm so annoyed at, why I am afraid. Everyone seems to have an opinion on the matter except me, and seeing as he'll be reading this soon there's not much I can say. I don't want it to be this way forever. I'm just really... Fuck.

- I am feeling disconnected from my life. Today I did a biology test and instead of writing the answers I drew pictures of animals and wrote "Baa..." in the spaces provided. I don't know if I am having a nervous breakdown or what? I feel most comfortable when I am asleep. I never ever want to get out of bed. I want to scream at everything and throw glass at brick walls. I want to rip posters off walls and punch my fists against concrete. I want to cease being this pathetic, however I am not opposed to self mutilation. I keep smoking, when I don't really want or desire to.

- I AM SUPPOSED TO BE HEALING...
This is not healing.
Maybe this is the reason why I cannot let go of this friend's experience.
I was FINE before all this happened.
I was HEALING.
But now.. I am spiraling and I don't want to blame him because it's the feeling of guilt that I was the reason he went to hospital that caused my initial spiral.

There are only a few people in my life currently who I can deal with. There is one who I tolerate above most. She is young, she is light. She is more light in my life than most have been recently. Instead of the black bullshit fog that deepens my mind, she lets it become greyer until I can almost see. I love her.

Emotional rants have become my forte this past week. Maybe I will try my hand at some form of poetic prose, to distract my troubled mind.


There is,
Salty water in my wounds
Rolling grains over the exposed flesh.
Some form of self mutilation.
I am divorcing myself from my emotion though.
It's much easier to experience,
When old men are getting senile
When your grandfather is getting horny
Over people your age...
There is something specific.
However, it's impossible to pinpoint
Why does it hurt so much to believe?
I think that people were created to exist in pairs,
Because we cannot be trusted on our own.
I'll only believe you if you don't tell me.

When I was younger, I used to believe there was a voice in my head. I saw this voice as god. he told me to jump out of the car whilst it moved. I never did, and he would abuse me as I tried to sleep, until I hurt myself. I used to pray every night. So that he would be kind to me. He never was.

Performance.

Last night my band performed at my drummer's 18th birthday party.

I was already tipsy when we started playing and it was one of the most relaxed gigs we've ever done. There's something I love about performing, I think it's the way I feel when I'm on stage. I don't care if you're looking at me like I'm retarded, I am up here on this stage for a reason. My music is deemed good enough to be performed to an audience, and even if you're sitting in that corner looking at me like I'm a freak there are over ten people in front of me jumping up and down singing the words to a song that I wrote.

I wrote... That's what it is. These songs are parts of my soul. These words are my feelings and people like them. When I watched the audience moshing and yelling... It felt amazing.

About halfway into our set my best friend arrived. He'd been at work and the minute I saw him I felt happy. He came right up the front and sang along to my songs with me, he knew the words, he knew what they meant and I could see in his eyes that I was someone really important to him. He came to my gig, because of me. I'd never felt so special.

Drivel drivel drivel.. I know this is all sentimental bullshit.

After our set I had a blues jam with some old friends I had performed with last year.

This is what I live for.

Homeopathy.

A word for the weary... This isn't a post I'd particularly want to be viewing.

Anger is my drug, Obsession/Paranoia are my chasers.

I want to discuss my experience with homeopathy. When I was 14 my mother took me to a homeopath to try and combat my depression and self mutilation.

This man asked my mother about me, she told him that we were here because I had been cutting myself. This "doctor" asked me if I had been depressed. I (being co-operative and pleasant) said yes. The "doctor" asked me why, and I began to discuss certain situations in which I would feel angry ( friendship problems/ not achieving perfection etc). My mother pitched in saying that I had been angry even as a child, bringing up memories such as, when I was a baby I would clench my fists so tightly that my mother had to use force to unfurl them.

I told the homeopath that my friends called me Tiger because I was aggressive and the scars on my arm were like stripes. He jumped on the use of the word tiger and described to me a former patient who had been a young boy. This boy had been extremely aggressive, biting people and generally being very unruly. The homeopath said that he recognized the tiger in this boy and prescribed him a remedy he called tiger... He told me that this so called " tiger" contained genuine tiger's blood and this would combat the feelings of aggression.

The homeopath also jumped when I told him that I felt inadequate compared to others around me. He referred to the periodic table, discussing with me the element Palladium. He told me that the element Palladium is situated next to Gold, Silver and Platinum. These "more important" elements made Palladium feel inadequate. He therefore also prescribed me palladium tablets. This was to combat my feelings of inadequacy. 

I am now eighteen. The last time I cut myself was a week ago. I have felt rage recently, I feel inadequate constantly. I did take the remedies prescribed to me at first. I however had no faith in them after they failed to cure me of my "conditions."

This year, I went to the doctor ( the real doctor) by myself and told her that I needed help.

Inked.

Purpose of trip to Sydney

- Meet baby cousin William John. (This was the main priority)

- Get a tattoo. ( This was decided quite spontaneously)

So perhaps deciding to get a tattoo was.. Well, too spontaneous for what it is. However I wanted to do this now, it was important to me and I thought it was time. I finally can see some clarity starting to emerge from the fog that has been my life for the past five or six years. I want to celebrate this sudden vision, in the only way I know how... Self harm.

And so the decision to get this tattoo was configured with my parents, who really didn't have too much to say about it except " You are 18 now, it's your choice" and so after careful deliberation. I decided that the most fitting image to have permanently inked into my skin was the symbol devised by the guitarist Jimmy Page of the band Led Zeppelin. 

I like this symbol, it represents a band which has been present in my life for as long as I can remember. Led Zeppelin is most likely the only band I can listen to no matter what mood I am in. 

So once all that had been decided, I asked my aunt about it. My aunt has three tattoos of her own, and she is very close to the owner and tattooists at Sydney's tattoo parlour " The Illustrated Man." She told me the job was fairly simple and that it could be done, and so it was all arranged.

So this is "The Illustrated Man." The guys inside are all really nice, they all seemed somewhat surprised and impressed by this little "baby-faced" 18 year old coming in for a Led Zeppelin tattoo. My tattooist was Brett, and first he placed a stencil onto my foot. Then rubbed some gel stuff onto the stencil and got the needle ready...

I closed my eyes when he put the needle onto my foot for the first time. I didn't know exactly what to expect. Even now, I am having trouble describing what it felt like. It hurt, I knew that it would, but I didn't scream and I didn't cry. I clenched my fists and looked away. 

My aunt sadistically took photos throughout the entire process. This was actually helpful because it kept me from expressing any pain I felt. I smiled instead and as my tattooist sang along to Devo's "Whip It" which was playing in the background, I felt calm.

After Brett had done the outline of the ZoSo symbol he had to shade the centre parts of the tattoo. This was painful like the first touch of the needle had been. My aunt told me after that this was because the skin has already been "hurt" and the shading was the needle being dragged along the skin.

The whole process took ten minutes. 

After it was finished Brett rubbed some gel onto the tattoo and put paper towel onto it, he then taped my foot up. It hurt a little at first to walk but not for long ( this was lucky because immediately after getting the tattoo, I had to walk to my aunt's apartment, walk to the trains, catch a train to the airport and fly out to Canberra). 

That night when I was at home, I took off the paper towel so that I could clean the Sydney grime from around the tattoo. On the paper towel there were specks of blood in the shape of the ZoSo symbol.. I thought that was hardcore.

So I am expecting it to itch and scab for a few days, currently I have the bandage off and have to apply paw paw ointment twice a day, I usually rub ointment into it whenever I feel I should though. 

I don't regret having this done. Will I when I am eighty? 

I don't really expect that sort of longevity.

CBT.

Taken from wikipedia...

"Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) is an umbrella-term for psychotherapies that deal with cognitions, assumptions, beliefs, evaluations and behaviors, with the aim of influencing emotions and behaviors that relate to maladaptive and dysfunctional appraisal of events. The general approach, developed out of behavior modification, Cognitive Therapy and Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy, has become widely used to treat various kinds of psychopathology, including mood disorders and anxiety disorders. The particular therapeutic techniques vary within the different approaches of CBT according to the particular kind of problem issues, but commonly may include keeping a diary of significant events and associated feelings, thoughts and behaviors; questioning and testing cognitions, assumptions, evaluations and beliefs that might be unhelpful and unrealistic; gradually facing activities which may have been avoided; and trying out new ways of behaving and reacting. Relaxation, mindfulness and distraction techniques are also commonly included. CBT is widely accepted as an evidence- and empiricism-based, cost-effective psychotherapy for many disorders and psychological problems."


This is what they want to do with me..
I don't keep fucking diaries.

Reinvention.

I used to believe that I would rather be penetrated by a pitchfork before I posted my pathetic thoughts and ambitions onto the internet for all to read.

Then I became affiliated with a farmer's union and somehow blogging seemed almost satisfying.

This is...
Your spine,
Stacked disks, arched
Slide upon one another,
As two lovers would

A virginity,
Rubbing disks..
A dull ache
Loss of senses

You have become no more
Than a teenager,
Whilst your spinal cord
Makes love

You are paralysed.


This.. Is.. A.. Poem..

for my mother.
but she will never read it.


My name is Katherine.. Hello.