Thursday, September 13, 2012

skype in the name of love

it might be true that absence makes the heart grow fonder. especially in the case of a hedonistic whirlwind love affair born out of a deep connection, but technology alleviates the pain of time apart after unexpectedly acquiring inseparable extra limbs. 

one doesn't often appreciate what exists until it is missed. and the furore of the full swing band once it moves on leaving only gyrating tumbleweed behind is quickly pined for once a situation is taken stock of. silence is only golden when one can see through the blur of the fast moving glittered shine of white noise. all that glisters is not gold, often have you heard that told... but in the stillness it stands true, echoed by your bodiless voice, your visage transmitted over my computer screen from thousands of miles way. given pixelated shape.

when an AWOL monk finds herself as part of a pair after a longterm pilgrimage of traversing dusty paths mostly single-handedly in a realm of inequality, it's nice to be reminded that it's no longer necessary to be alone. or unrequited. and that it might be time to retire one mantle in order to adopt another. a careful consideration. we can hold hands & face the world together.

in a world of questions re: reality and the frailty of self-created bubbles, it is better to be reminded than forgotten. the fresh stimulus provided by an injection of tangible chemistry which lives & breathes in balanced equation despite physical disconnection. no out of sight, out of mind but a need to soak in the luxuriance of your shadow. and vice versa. the many guises of peter pan. but you will catch it.

our interludes much more anais nin than maxim because despite physical meets fantastical needs, this monk has no desire to wander into the territory blazed by those beforehand keeping in mind the longevity of the interwebs. despite the lure of the medium and contextual ease technology offers to maintain closeness when in a state of longing, google is forever. and mbs have an errant habit of finding themselves publicly online at some unforseeable future date regardless of noble intentions. more often than not, the condom needs to be placed on the internet connection, not human.

so don't call me a prude & content yourself with an accidentally flashed nip or two, whimsical ruminations or barely discernible curved forms conjured with crushed blacks & pinks cast from the japanese lamp which sits aside my bed with the dodgy swinging bamboo we knocked that night scrambling for everything else on the table, in our heat-filled haze.

my porn tags are my own. as 
our banter development curve grows, with less reliance on habitual physical punctuation & the silence lessens, the weight of a rainbow spewing synced vibrations rates higher than any precious monochromatic mineral while we languish in our unfinished late night reflections. some things are still worth waiting the distance for. 

Friday, August 10, 2012

haiku: new love

new love
a negotiable minefield
of illusion

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

dizzy monk

this reminds me of that mos eisley bar scene where luke & ben first meet han solo & chewie...

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

these vagabond shoes...

are headed back your way new york. take two.
because if i can make it there, i can make it anywhere. let's see shall we?

Monday, June 25, 2012


something unexpected happened.

i woke up the other morning. fully clothed. not in my bed as had become usual. or even my house.

i was alone but haven't always been. encrusted in the previous night's make-up. coat, hat & boots still on. sounds of the previously partying warehouse around me sleepy & subdued. and i didn't think about you.

nor was there the burden of an omnipresent hangover because finally i had become bored of escapism, drowning my sorrows & wailing like a banshee on friends' shoulders, or conversely playing the man-eating femme fatale at an all-you-can-eat buffet. swings & roundabouts.

later when i returned home peering at the world unveiled through mascara glued lashes with the sun dancing on my back warming the heart which fused back whole as pieces bled back together in escalated time lapse mode, i felt happy & have ever since. then i realised it was finally over: the grief cycle done & dusted. acceptance reigns, pain diminished. anaesthesia can now be abandoned.

the time has come to reassemble the sabotaged pieces of my life. and shine once more. alone if need be. in true jonathon livingstone monk style.

i will miss you, but our flight paths will surely coincide without being weighed down by sadness & frustration that we couldn't quite meet & glide indefinitely way beyond the clouds where we thought destiny had fated us. i'm not going back to the flock, and won't live within perceived limitations. dimension shifts have many faces.

i wasn't born to drown in this ocean. nor were you. it's in us. the quest for perfection: love. we are meant to soar. SHORT WINGS!

fly well beloved IDTC. goodbye for now.

haiku: l'oreal dye box

l'oreal dye box 
untouched - fresh bouncing tresses 
man drowns. sud-filled drain.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

may have saved the planet but i lost three friends

dancing. not waiting. kinda... *shoots self in head*
anyway, how awesome is this?

when i stumbled upon this, i thought of you, of course. obvious alien jokes aside, this is fun dancing fodder. 

my new favourite thing. until you call.

fuck you. YLS.

still more blood to suck dry - zombie love story

abandon hope all ye who enter here
for i was foolish enough to grab a glimmer
and shouldn't have

we met at a bar last night. i'd asked for a meeting. against my better judgement. we had unfinished business. not just of the personal variety which wasn't really my focus or at least i deigned to rise above it. try to anyway.

you had footage, in fact you still have more - of projects i've conceived that we've produced together, creating small slices of magic. more than leaving an earring at your house. i half-heartedly tried to cancel beforehand via email realising after speaking with friends - i wasn't ready, not strong enough to resist the magnetism which pulls me to you. which binds us together in our ancient huckleberry finn meets tom sawyer tie. someone else could've gone, but that would be lame, sending someone in my stead. it had to be me. and the film edit was waiting... you didn't check your internet, you said.

you'd asked for dinner. tentatively i agreed. why dinner? what did you want from me...what did you plan? was this where my unicorn fantasy filled with knights & gold rings would sweep by & lift me up into a dragon-filled sky as you made some longed for declaration of committed love? it was doubtful & no matter what every possible world which presented in my turmoil filled mind throughout the day was inadequate. invariably disappointing. i was a mess all day. the anticipation, the imagined scenarios, crippling: headlit frozen bunny.

turns out you were just hungry. we fought at the bar immediately. you were angry. accused me of a lack of innocence & that i was just to blame as you for your transgressions, for our breakdown, for my ruination. that was unexpected although i had made you wait for 45 minutes. late, as usual. the wine steward clashed glasses around us rising to the tension. small cocktail knife to the right. our eyes mirrored the apple martini's beneath us. shiny. wet.

you said you didn't expect us to get to this part so fast. our conversation. but i always cut to the chase. you opened the door & i flew through ready to dance if that was the beat you were determined to put on. how did you expect anything different? i listed my agenda as soon as the drinks were served. like an intrepid droid. sticking to the script incase it slid away. i planned to be the modicum of professionalism. a fast disappearing void.

you asked for a hug, because i hadn't given one. and said i was stern. still nursing my almost mortal blow, how could i open up my arms & heart to you once more? conserving just enough energy to maintain enough rhythmic beat to stay alive. barely. it was you that had the other lovers, and lied about them, not me. while you worshipped at the altar of the idealised ghost. you had kept me waiting for so long, the consolation prize, safety blanket you would come back to after you got bored of others warming & delighting you. you, the pied piper led them astray illuminating worlds then tired of it would return home. soldier of love. denying them to me. i hugged you at the bar then but still felt dead, terrified of feeling anything incase it was impossible to let go. of you. my love.

and somehow, even though you had nothing to give, i almost ended up buying back into it. we ended back at yours [for the footage]. we drank zubrowka, smoked several joints punctuated by my repeated requests for footage. you said "why, are you leaving now?" and i would make some weak attempt & fall back into my milk crate agreeing that i would only be more miserable away. i told you i didn't think i was going to make it but daren't break my promise to my child. crying. the magnum opus flying further out of my reach allowing the world to come crashing around me. trust is dead, trust is dead. you are the one who finally managed to steal it. you are the fool, the thief who selfishly squandered it as you danced & laughed amongst others with our heart secrets which i thought special. which clearly were not.

you laugh for everyone. 

now once more, i sit and watch my phone in some horrible slo mo deja vu, worlds colliding back on themselves after somehow despite your lack of offer or declaration, the gaping wound has been cruelly forced open further. and how we have fought in the last 24 hours as the pain circles us like swooping buzzards as we dance the final steps of this pantomime clinging onto false hope stroking fools gold looking for some kind of beginning, a sign.

you do not want to acknowledge your role and resent my pressing of it. will only yell while saying i do. but don't. yet you rejoice that communications are open between us. i consider closing the door, i should never have reopened it. there is no hope, there is no hope. half-hearted platitudes & small talk is not what i want with you. and will not. the riddler wants to take things one day at a time... to what end? i know what i want.

you were finally ready to give it a shot, you say. with me. captain hindsight. you had decided before i metaphorically slammed the door in your face eleven days prior to our barside meeting. you had told your sister your intentions, in some almost victorian gesture. thing is you didn't think to consult me, raggedy ann of the bronte era.  but you rang your sibling. she was confused because you'd never really talked about me. me, the invisible partner. 

you lied about me to everyone, including yourself, most days. you even broke off with your other lovers. and now they're gone and i am too, and it's my fault apparently. "what was the point?", you ask? now you have nothing. you're angry because you could have had their love/sex continue on tap & it's ended unnecessarily. because i wasn't there at the finish line, waiting, like you've come to expect me to. i say, because you needed to change, to acknowledge truth, to grow. and that i am proud of you, knowing how you and honesty are difficult bedfellows. i saw your shift. before you shifted back.

the day you did that, two tuesdays before, we sat atop the hill eating our oysters & chips as we do and talked. we talked about what you were about to do. don't you think you could have told me then that you wanted to start fresh, that you loved me, that you'd decided to "give it a shot" and finally be present in a true love partnership? that was probably a good time... we sat there for ages. i asked why you were going to see "the girls", you said you were doing it for you, not for me. so it should still be valid. i said "good" because one of my feet was already out the door & knew that to win me back you'd have to do a lot more. if you're determined to do the program you need to fulfil all twelve steps.

i gave you my car to aid expediency, loved you, hugged you, supported you, advised you, conjured minestrone soup to come home to after your hard day at work breaking hearts you never had a right to connect to. not on my watch. like a stepford wife, buying soup ingredients & honest charlie's lemonade. your favourite. it took 12 hours, six per lover, your day after you left me at 1400 with the rental car used to chauffeur your ghost bride the weekend before. you came back in between lovers to pick up the car. i smiled while stirring soup and urged you to pick up the pace. or it would be cold.

you returned spent & each day you put off talking to me about your great shift, slept in my bed, as another sat patiently on the wings even though i asked him not to [our inheritance of horror] and our great talk never happened. as usual. and then it got too late for me. exhausted lady in waiting. second prize was just not good enough. your passivity a weak excuse.

and now you say i was mean to you? that it's my fault you couldn't speak as i spent three nights holding you during this... because i made a derisive comment about you and one of your lovers, who i keep running into. she hides from me with nervous eyes & downcast face. despite her guilt, her small role is acknowledged. you ARE very selective in the information you share... the town however too small to avoid one another in the circles we keep. 

i will not sweep it under the carpet. you shamed me. but that's not the key issue. you must live with the consequences of your actions. own them FFS. your lies. in order to embrace growth, change and heal, the habitual, unnecessary repeated lessons must be processed.

you screw with the crew & we all live with it. we impact others. you picked up with her against my warning when i knew you would the day it was set up as you lay in my bed beside me lying about it. eyes shifting. your lies stink. i begged you not to. you told me i was ridiculous, paranoid. and then did. i had invited her to work with us & you plucked her out like a ripe cherry, and popped it further. later you say you already knew her first so what's the problem? with steel eyes i consider kneecapping.

but i forgive you. we're both...difficult. love & life are dynamic. as are we. it's possible to rise beyond this bloodied cage of staticness where we don't belong. together. i could, with you. if only you weren't so trapped within the cycle. caught in the embrace of denial. i am not the jailor.

so the tourniquet has fallen off this bleeding heart. how many pints can a body leak before it finally empties? in a zombie apocalypse i never thought i would be one. a zombie. but perhaps it's better this way. to have lived, loved & lost so hard that the afterlife is one massive splatterfest where we can take pleasure in the mindless consumption of the still beating hearts of others. those who failed to feel enough, or still can. those who have not yet abandoned all hope. but even still a glance exists. check my phone again. nothing. there must be still some more blood. to suck. dry.

and all i want to do is cry out my undying love for you from tall buildings hearing it echo down into the streets, bouncing off reflected walls of glass as the sun sets fat and low in the sky beneath the zombie hoards. i wish i may, i wish i might that the world was just & the wished for stars would shine for us tonight. before we consume each other. and the incurable pain is gone. 

[it is so very close to hate]

Monday, June 18, 2012

die antwoord = the answer heartbreak. this is my reality now. 
the place where trash and treasure meet.

Friday, June 15, 2012

pandora's box shut

of pandora
my phone 
i can't 
no matter
how much
i want you
last night
in a weak moment
i called
in your 
hellbent path
of self-destruction
you'd be busy
no answer
you were
and i can't 
message back
i love you
almost more than 
pandora's box
must remain
for there is 
no hope

Thursday, June 14, 2012

what she said

herein lies the problem...

the sun shines in tangerine patterns on my bed


the stalwart sun came out on my bed. and the sky burst playfully everywhere in patterns of psychedelic patterns without you. with these sweet organic mandarins springing forth as the nebulus. the haze broken. at least for now.

if i had a wand

if i had a wand
i would wave it
and our laughter
would piss off cat
meowing his derision
for our silliness
as it washed over
the balcony
and the theatre
beneath, played on
instead of being
stuck, here.

i am sick with love

i am

in a 
to care
by your
beautiful hands
[which i love]
how they 
my lower
as it
into you
i yearn
for your
even now
to share
how we
would giggle
framed by
too small
packed up
the crystal
- if
i stay
i will

i am

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

ginsberg mash

we unlock our room & step inside

Monday, June 11, 2012

side by side

"The story behind the picture is. Everyday at the same time she waits for him. He comes and they go for a walk.......Wouldn't it be great if we all have friends like that. No words needed. They just intuitively recognize the value of each other in their lives and act accordingly."

i'm not in the habit of reposting content from facebook but this had heartstrings all aflutter. IDTCs come in various shapes & sizes. i miss mine. thanks john pocino whom i lifted this from. 

ten things i hate about you

Saturday, June 9, 2012

i'm sorry

i'm sorry
i crossed
the line
no matter
what you did
i shouldn've
gone there 
it's ironic

isn't it
that i'm
to you
you owe me
who is 

Friday, June 8, 2012

haiku: if you laid me down

if you laid me down
beside old hedgehog roadkill
i would be flatter

you're exposed

you're exposed
like an old tired
piece of super 8
which would 
have been great
in the 70s
but now
is not
- no machine
with knowledge
will touch you
but still
you try to beguile
with your
colour curves
and poppy
the gates
are rusted
and retired
you can
flaunt your wiles
for awhile
will know
- nostalgia
only lasts
so long

Thursday, June 7, 2012

haiku: golden sunflower

golden sunflower
ginsberg's words: our minds meld in
soulful explosion

panda girl with wine

while enjoying slam poetry at caravan sets last night, unbeknownst to me, the lovely geoffrey goodes slyly drew my portrait. please note the plastic cup of wine. and the fact that i am wearing a panda hat [it was cold in/outside].

your arm lives

your arm 
around me
as we walk 
the street
your shy eyes
search mine
as we meet
your laugh
and upward
a window
into open
yet sureness
     - aaah
the old
with the 

your words

your words 
for another lover
wrapped around me
like an erotic 
earnest cuckoo
i searched for 
the pauses
to falsely savour
their ghost caress 
but haunted you
stopped early
an abrupt finish
left me unsated
wanting more

Friday, June 1, 2012

warm eyes

I see you 
On the wings
Moving slowly 
Onto stage
Your warm eyes 
Dance, throwing 
Luxuriant moonbeams
To wrap 
My restless supernova
- warm eyes.

Increased gravity
Resistance wanes
It becomes harder
To stay out, under 
The spotlight
In the cold
For the impossible 
- dream.

When at rainbow's edge 
Reality awaits
- with warm eyes.

still from holy mountain - alejandro jorodowsky

Verse 11:11 - charon's lifeless spiraling waters

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

wake up. time to occupy!

photo by jane dent

from my "three dumb electric sheep" series. piggyback pasteup with my fellow co-conspiratoral femme, damedismember art.

this oversized flock can be found just up from the hive bar in erskineville, sydney.

i'll post some more stuff soon. been busy wearing film hats etc...

Friday, May 18, 2012

haiku: sleep - a stranger now

sleep - a stranger now
old fanned flames lovingly lick
my untouched pillow

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

in beauty may i walk

i shot the above image as the sun went down at "in the night garden" an evening street exhibition for sydney fringe festival 2011 which i partook in with the uber punk monk propaganda kids & a bunch of other talented shadow illuminating alchemists. 

a celebration of light in all its manifestations in hidden corners & crevices of industrial hood, st peters. behind the wonderful & artist collaborative tortuga & index studios.

the text "in beauty may i walk" is borrowed from the ancient navajo. an integral poem in a nine day ritual, called the night chant. seems like a pretty great guiding principle to me.

Monday, May 14, 2012

everything is [not] tip top

you are everywhere. even after i had to delete you on FB. 

last night it was the freezer at the servo next to the mini tub of ice-cream i bought, seeking some kind of solace. we used to put raspberry liqueur on them together. 

since you've been pathologically dishonest with me & the myriad of lies you based your life on have since been revealed, i'm not even you sure you actually liked it at all.

that's the problem with the boy who cried wolf. lies & truths become indiscernible. eventually he gets gobbled up. by wolves. they've got a sweet tooth too.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

pied piper of waa

you say 
the others
are not 
the mess
old habits 
on the
i wonder
the others
- stuck 
on the 

the pied piper of hamelin by eroogroof

nothing, nothing in the world

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

silhouette film slices [part iii]

part of a series of punk monk propaganda stop motion films conceived by emma sanderson & myself for mischievous sex pop trio, fun machine. executed with a handful of similarly mad & talented punk monks, we handmade five of these suckers in seven days.

toxic: the very first of the hedonistic stop motion wave. this is where we cut our sharp teeth. a little more raw & crude than most of the series as we picked up the pace & skills along the way. we're still very fond of it, the song & band [of course].we LOVE LOVE LOVE the menstruation river, scarlet canal & dancing toxic tampon imagery... and no, you can't turn them into pearls girls.

this one by myself with emma sanderson, ky-lee menzies & craig bunker [bunkwaa].

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

DINO WARS - the inception

original DINO WARS poster by konsumterra

not long ago i sat in the rabbit warren of lucid dreams with three favourite others amongst fat vinyl beats which spun sporadically behind us peppering the ebb & flow of chilled conversation through clouds of alician caterpillar smoke. this is the house which introduced sun ra & space is the place into my life. a happy debt. 

photo: fiona grace mcdonald for DINO WARS

somehow the exploratory tangent went to dinosaurs which it often does in the zeitgeist our collective toes are semi-permanently dipped into, for it is one of our playgrounds. we of the JL set.

it was the dubmeister who reverently spoke of remote-controlled dinosaurs in a voice which engaged us all as the eight year old sparkled through his eyes. 

photo: fiona grace mcdonald for DINO WARS

instead of entering the junk-bin of amusing ideas which are long since forgotten as the burning frequency is passed back on, i entertained the prospect of a world, an alternate reality where satire, sport, theatre, art & erotica met. a place which embraced all inner children in a shamelessly trash environment... 

photo: c/- brisbane times

cue DINO WARS. DINO WARS is the latest punk monk propaganda project which we launched recently for the 2012 summer season at jurassic lounge

jurassic lounge is a wonderful night which encompasses a plethora of art/music based evening activities giving the australian museum additional demographic reach & providing restless hipsters something to do in sydney's CBD on a tuesday night. 

as we gather momentum, the DINO WARS pieces of the jigsaw puzzle organically come together to form a hallowed vision of an alternative universe. the crowd-sourced concept slowly but surely forms, taking a shape of its own. 

with the combined forces & rainbow spectrum skillbase of the talented & resourceful punk monk tribe, real shiz is starting to happen. and we're just getting the fun-filled meteor rolling.

photos: fiona grace mcdonald & matheus mytka for DINO WARS

while still in our infancy there's something for everyone. existing puzzle pieces are bunkwaa's DINOTASIA; live crowd-sourced claymation, the drip-fed introduction of character-driven jelly wrestling collectible pin-ups & UV realms where dinosaur championing humans battle, live freeform paleolithic pop mixes, a carnie extravaganza of nerf-gun toting UV babes & twisted DINO masters with more activities & live art planned for peeps to earn DINO DOLLARS which can then subsequently be spent... visceral candy beyond the binaural sphere.

very soon the remote-controlled dinosaurs & their UV zealots will come out to play...

photo: fiona grace mcdonald for DINO WARS
[andros battle shells for DINO WARS]

without letting the velociraptor completely out of the bag, our tireless DINO WARS tribe funded by DINO DOLLARS are planning on being much more than a short-lived banana republic & hope that the second coming of extinction coupled with the demise of our currency is still a long way off. raptor jesus was due for an upgrade anyway.

if you want to know more or want to be a part of it come "like" us on facebook & follow us down the glowing tyrannosaurus hole. the bunny has long since been consumed.

          photo: fiona grace mcdonald for DINO WARS

where: JURASSIC LOUNGE 2012 SUMMER SEASON, AUSTRALIAN MUSEUM -behind the dead stuffed things lvl 2, who's calling who extinct?
when: MAR 06 // MAR 20 // APR 03

Saturday, February 25, 2012

silhouette film slice [part ii]

the above clip is part of a series of stop motion films conceived by emma sanderson & myself for wonderfully mischievous sex pop band, fun machine. executed with a handful of similarly mad & talented punk monks, we made five of these suckers in seven days.

this one by dave cheng with ky-lee menzies & me. by the far the more sophisticated of the group, ah te was the very last of the series as we went over deadline kicking, screaming and almost falling apart at the seams. by which time we'd really sharpened our claws with davey raising the bar just that little bit further.

haiku: freshly chilled cider rocks

bar stool siren her
fieriness lured me onto
freshly chilled cider rocks

haiku: blew my mind awake

just a few shared words
last night, in a crowded bar
blew my mind awake

Friday, February 24, 2012

silhouette film slices [part i]

look what us punk monks made for our beloved band, fun machine

part of a series of stop motion films conceived by emma sanderson & myself. executed with a handful of similarly mad & talented punk monks, we made five of these suckers in seven days. 

graff on, graff off

in the beginning there was a pole. outside the corner shop. punk monk propaganda's HQ. our hive, the hub of all things punk monk. 

it was a happy bunkwaa pole. for a time. the sticker gradually changed & generated a rainbow of faded hues from being kissed by the sun over & over again as it surrendered its punk pinkness to the street.

then the graffiti removalists came... [again]

and cleaned up the streets... 

until the beautification pixies come back out to play once more. they surround us & see all.

Friday, February 3, 2012

a dream come true for the CIA...

mark zuckerberg as CIA overlord. 
too funny. too real.

fat pavlova

xmas day 2011. raen & i prepare an epic 10 person pavlova in the bush, far off the grid where prying eyes may not witness our gluttony. we pile atop it as much fruit as we have managed to procure. these are a few of our favourite things...

then we carry it to the creek. and eat it all. just the two of us. guilt free. for a moment we don't consider the third world or universal hunger at all buying into the luxury of our first world privilege. then we rainbow vom. drink. sleep. and eat some more.

we call it mother/daughter bonding.

business time

one positive aspect of singledom is that i can truly enjoy this. from a distance.

Monday, January 30, 2012

haiku: this urban decay

this urban decay
offers up men with excess 
baggage + addiction

Saturday, January 14, 2012



if you

Friday, January 13, 2012

lonely avenue

sharing oxygen with polly this friday the 13th. unlucky for some. but not me. in perth. which totally redeems itself today! 

hop on my scooter, we're going for a ride. mary swanson awaits. even if you're not there.

Friday, January 6, 2012

haiku: smokin' DMT

smokin' DMT
my seizure, your oblivion
some kind of break thru

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

christmas faerie

© tone deaf 2011

a snap of yours truly taken post main stage live stream google interview at peats ridge 2011 NYE. 

note the relief & slightly less nervously clenched smile. thankfully photos are much more static than video too...

and yes, i stole the faerie lights off my tent. it's a bit of a punk monk peats tradition.