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@georgielevi
safer in the forest...unofficial mantra.
greece. circa 96. will never stop travelling. this was the beginning of it all.
hated the donkey ride though.
float // fight
when i surfaced, everyone said i seemed to float in the air
none of the others could, it seemed
it made me feel like i had superpowers
i don't though, i just have a little more grace and a little less body weight
along with the praise when i surfaced, i also realised i had cut my leg
even that small reminder of my frail form and thin skin wasn't enough
to shield my consciousness from a full-blown, float-away-with-the-current
epistemological crisis
or my mortal flesh from a sharp stick amongst the reeds
but ultimately what i left with was this
i did a somersault off the roof of a boat and it was really fucking cool
this little guy, the smashed otter, is the beginning of an amazingly exciting new project. oh fourteen is shaping up to be pretty flipping exciting.
practice makes patient.
it's not the drawing that i'm practising
it's the sitting still
i fidget, i stretch, my mind wanders and my feet follow
but i'm working on it.
i will touch an orca before i die. this i know for sure.
in hindsight, it's really fucking lucky none of us were struck by lightning.
who the hell galavants about in a playground on the beach during a thunderstorm?
we do. because we're pirate sailors and we ain't scared of a little storm.
to build a home
i want to build us a home
like the song but for real this time
reclaimed log cabin in the wilderness
wild is where it's at
wolf as a pet
owls at the door
deer leaning in through the kitchen window
because you left a piece of pie on the counter
fire place and persian rugs
books line the walls, they are the artwork
i want to build us a home
and plant macadamia trees because i know
we'll stay for years
sometimes everything is better without words.
can't look yet
i have a telescope but i haven't used it
i'm afraid of looking into the future
or back through the past, not sure which
spying on stars that have already died
sensing super novas that may envelope me
at any given moment
on clear nights i find excuses
on rainy nights i breathe a sigh of relief
space scares the shit out of me
shock
i didn't realise it was an electric fence
when i grabbed it
palms open, so honest
clay arrows dotting my arms, i'd been playing
see...
we were the engine driven explorers
the automobile adventurers
fuelled by caffeine and a skerrick of sunshine
well, not so much sunshine as it simply stopped hailing.
windy roads, windy too
same word, two meanings and two ways to pronounce it
the english language is fucked, sometimes
the house was a solitary structure
under construction, no one there,
no obstruction for us
our luck had prevailed while i pranced about
gawking in windows and trotting across loose timber
the fence separated me, from the field
as the grass is ALWAYS greener i immediately wanted in
i didn't realise it was an electric fence
when i grabbed it
so my confusion at the jolt, at the pain
was delayed, my response staggered and sluggish
ow
a beat, a pause
my leg kicks out, flails unlike limbs do
when you have control over the electrical impulses of your body
but i didn't
ow
not currently
ow
there was a current
ow
overriding my own
my hands remain gripped tight
for the length of a short story
until i remind myself
that my brain is wired
to send messages even in times such as this
and i remove them
swiftly fling them straight up
as if under fire
or as if i'm sam neil, in a prehistoric theme park, playing a joke on some gullible children
laughter fills the country air
echoes across the field i was so determined to reach
bounces against the empty house we couldn't get into
some of it is my own
and just like that
i drafted this piece
live
just like the fence.
no time for titles
it's time, i find, to try out a longer prose
whilst staying inside my own postal code
i don't suppose, since i'm alone, anyone would know
where the hell to start?
how to make the words, the phrases, the art
flow thick and fast?
(i guess it is already occuring so i should stop referring to it as something i'm about to do)
is there some sort of handbook, a guide?
obviously beside the obvious, that thing in the sky
the much admired, the wired yet strangely wireless
collection of human consciousness, the internet
*side note* HOW THE FUCK DOES THE INTERNET EVEN WORK? DOES ANYONE EVEN KNOW?
apologies to jung
in my dream we were racing
through colourful corridors
through elegant doorways
through houses
racing is an understatement
it was fleeing, it was madness
diving through windows only to find ourselves
in another house
another living room
hurtling away
from some unseen demon
i think i realised it was odd
when we leapt through a fireplace
but i didn't have time to react
to the realisation that this
wasn't real
because if i even paused to consider
the notion of untruth
i'd die, surely
it was when the antagonistic force behind us
finally caught up
in an observatory
with glass windows two storeys high
that i knew it was over
with a sweeping shatter
all of the glass exploded
and we were suddenly at the mercy
of the elements
and although i searched for it
i could find no pursuer, no evil
just a beautiful view over the ocean at dusk
i bought a book about dream interpretation
but i haven't read it
i think some things are better off
not understood
just marvelled at and pondered on
and left alone
i saw a bear in these forests
rugged course haired beast
lumbering about
wondering why i was staring so much
i don't think i've ever been more excited
or cautious
there was a river between us, sure
but i don't exercise and water,
water is just, well
water
i just want to be like larry
I watched a documentary called "Happy". I took notes. As can be imagined from such scribblings, I'm cured now.
We invented God to explain the miraculous truth but novelists have to create much more plausible lies...
Richard Flanagan
At the Powerhouse this evening presenting an enlightening take on writing, love, war, hope and his new novel. I felt incredibly lucky to be there.
Presenting my ongoing project, Light of my Life. An acutely accurate and stabbing portrayal of my solitary journey through the confusion of movement and the harsh reality of refraction in the context of our space/time continuum.
In other words, I took some photos on my way to, from and when I got home from work.
The lighting is nice.