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Showing posts from May, 2009

Milk it.

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Last night I watched the movie "Milk".

Great film. I recommend it.

My recommendation is not just an "up yours" to our national censor who banned this film from being screened in Samoa for no apparent reason other than his glaring personal prejudices. This film and more pointedly, the story and life of Harvey Milk are on it's own merits undoubtedly courageous and beautiful. Harvey Milk, after many failed attempts, became the first openly gay elected public official in the US in the 1970s.

He sought equal rights and opportunities for all, and his great love for the city and its people brings him backing from young and old, straight and gay, alike – at a time when prejudice and violence against gays was openly accepted as the norm. Milk served San Francisco well while lobbying for a citywide ordinance protecting people from being fired because of their orientation – and rallying support against a proposed statewide referendum to fire gay schoolteachers and their su…

The Emancipation of Sayuri.

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I had a talk with my mother recently.

We talked about recent events in my life that caused me to really feel like I had been run over by a bulldozer and my heart was open being picked at by vultures.

Our conversation reminded me of a scene in a parody of Memoirs of a Geisha I'd seen where Geisha in training Sayuri complains to Mother about her difficulty in accomplishing the "stop a man in his tracks" look.

"But isss haaahrd," Sayuri cries.

Mother calmly looks up at her and say "Trrryyy haaaahrder."

The parody was the source of many laughs between friends and I when we first saw it online some years ago. And I find it ironic that I'm reminded of it in such a low moment in my life.

My mom basically listened as I tipped the well of my heart out told her how I felt.

I shared that despite that I had walked away from the scene of the crime, it didn't take away from the fact that I was obliterated by the whole experience and despite knowing that I s…

He said, she said.

I hate that word closure, you said.

Why? I asked.

Closure means the end of something, you said.

Closure means finding a sense of peace, I said.

Oh okay, you said.

What do you want, I said?

I want us, you said.

There is no more us, I said.

I want you, you said.

You had me, I said.

You had all of me, and everything I had to give. And then you had someone else, I reminded.

I'm sorry, I can't have that. I don't want that, I said.

"But I "prefer" to be with you," you said.

All I could think is, fuck if I care what you prefer.

How can we share so much and you know so little about what I need?

And if you know, how could you do so little about it?

Do nothing.

Your actions scream at me louder than your words ever did.

And your words.

If all I am after all of this, is your preference.

Go fuck yourself.

I hurt.

I'm swimming in chandeliers and champagne flutes.
Adorned in admiration and accolades.
High heels and high class.
The world, my oyster.
Success, my aphrodisiac.
It's trappings, at my manicured fingertips.
Yet my eyes glaze over it.
Yet, I'm short of air.
Feels like my own hand clenched around my heart.
Depriving me of blood.
Protecting me from the world.
Crushing me in the process.
I feel boxed in.
By a tightness in my chest, that won't let up.

Mwuahahaha.. . . .

I laugh in the face of difficult situations.

Actually, I lie.

I cried my eyes out into the fucking Vaisigano river.

I burned the pages of my memory that were littered with meaningless, empty images of a pipedream.

I cursed cheating, hating, lying bastard mother fuckers to a slow, burning death.

I screamed every expletive under the sun until I was so tired I couldn't even think "fuck you".

Only after that, could I turn my puffy, angry eyes to pay a glance to the face of difficult situations.

Life is a goddamn bitch.

Drip feeding you with blips of meaningless joy.

Blinding you with false hope.

Only to stampede all over the foundations of your dream.

Unsettling your mirage.

Leaving only dust, and vapour.

Both of which settle and disappear.

To leave you alone.

In piercing heat of the unforgiving sun.

Searing your skin.

Life is a fucking barbeque of broken hearts and laughable optimism.

And I am laughing desperately in it's face.

Trance

Keep on keeping on.
Throwing myself at work.
To keep busy.
Afraid to stop.
Afraid to face the sound.
The deafening silence.
Must keep moving.
Engaged in the motions.
Overwhelm my mind with work.
Just to forget.
Must keep moving.
Don't want to face the truth.
The despairingly painful.
Lonely truth.
Must go faster.
Go farther.
Go away.
From you.

Untitled

Tears etch a path down my face
Sucking the dryness out of my pores
Wearing tracks down my skin.
They gushing endlessly
From the poisoned well that is my love.

Knee deep in anger and self loathing.
Waist deep in hurt and resounding shock.
Drenched in questions and double takes.
Drowning in useless, merciless tears.

What a world of fools, I live in.
A world of dashed hopes and capped dreams.
A world of disappointment and un-done ideals.
Of misplaced faith and unsound investments.
Of thankless giving.
Of sin.

Oh, what a fool.

Hope

Too much has happened since last writing here.

I'd go through it, but I'm dizzy just thinking about it.

Most of it evolves around the following two points of fact:
Point one being - that I've thrown myself at carving a career out of the slothful slumber at work. This of course induces a great deal of fire breathing and martinis, to you know, repair the broken spirit and re-ignite my jaded optimism.The second point being, that the lovely man on whom I take my workplace induced fire-breathing out on, still calls me darling. I like a resilient man.
This coming week is quite crucial to both of these points. I'm nowhere near sound minded enough to give all the details buuuut, just quickly it involves a court case, miffed parents, a job offer, a possible move, getting fat and possibly $45,000 to worry about.

None of which I think I can drink my way out of.

Ah, rats.

Lol.

Can always count on my knee-jerk cynicism to find a solution when I'm in a pickle. And that solution us…