haiku: mania looms lost

mania looms lost

sardines hide pulling up chairs

vying for best view

satire as survival mechanism

more from the agony and rapture... 


my current sanity bible which provides loads more shits & giggles than christianity could ever manage. except perhaps on southpark. this is my control device. the brake. when i am no longer capable of providing my own. the faerie godmother of instant sobriety. aaaah.


another direct lift from the original. it's so unnecessary to condense or paraphrase. besides right now i can't be trusted. a sonnet or the erotic horror film script with his abandoned toothbrush might sneak in or something. there's plenty of time for that later. once i remember how to sleep.


in the meantime i have diverted my obsession onto steve-o. the author of this guide. my new demi-god. the gold-leafed shrine is coming along nicely complete with warholian photo montage. i've digitally mapped our images & the resulting off-spring are gorgeous. with thick rimmed glasses & monobrows [hi frida]. but exceptionally witty & smart of course. art meets science --> instant hipsters! we have so much in common. without even knowing i exist, i know steve-o understands me. 


it's comforting on lonely nights while my cat with worse abandonment issues than me, quietly [but not quietly enough] urinates into my favourite boots in the corner of the bedroom while i cower under the flannelette covers trying not to think about my S.O. who never eventuated into being particularly significant at all.


*rubs naked self with toothbrush*

Fantasies and daydreams

Daydreams are a huge component of any crush. It is difficult for any one-sided love affair to develop into something meaningful without generous application of one's imagination. After all, you can't fully experience loving someone without shouting out your feelings at a New Years Eve party, telling off/slugging their callous Significant Other, or running off behind the building with them to steal a secret kiss. And since attempting any of these things in real life would result in them finding out that you like them, the only rational option is to set it all up in your mind. There are so many different directions to go with your fantasies, and I do not want to stand in your way by suggesting that the ideas presented here are the only "correct" options. They are merely suggestions to get you started.

---

An easy way to hone your daydreaming skills is to simply replay the day's events in your head, perhaps with minor variations. You could improve your performance in this way, or maybe add to your Adored One's actions subtle signs of attraction to you.

When composing fantasies, you may be inclined to stay away from cliches and extremely cornball dialogue or events. If you're sure that it's not your thing, that's cool, but I do urge you to at least give it a chance. The whole point here is to be self-indulgent, so, you may as well go all-out on occasion.

Why don't you and that special someone go out together on a quasi-date? You could spend an afternoon at a museum and then have a little picnic in the park while watching an outdoor drama production, or go to a medium-nice restaurant after catching a movie, or take a hike through the woods to a waterfall. All with the pretext of being completely platonic, and all activities which you could quite legitimately share without being secretly in love with them. (I've experienced all of these with no angsty subtext.) During the course of the quasi-date, you will undoubtedly be mistaken for a dating couple at least once. You'll laugh, pretending to find this as silly as your Adored One does. As evening comes and it gets chilly, the lending of a jacket will be in order. Your quasi-date could conclude with a romantic development, or end as ambiguously as it started. Try it both ways and see which you like better.

One of the most popular and emotionally gratifying storylines for a daydream is centered on the idea of winning your Adored One over by sheer force of the power of your love. There are two major variations here: hot and cool.

• HOT - Frustrated by their perpetual failure to recognize you as their One True Thing, break down and deliver an impassioned, half-angry declaration of your love. Be sure to mention that you've tried to get over them but keep falling all over again, and also that each morning upon being awakened by your alarm you feel a wave of soul-crushing despair when you are jolted from your dreams and find them no longer in your arms. All of this works particularly well if you are standing out in the pouring rain.
• COOL - First, share a serene, sentimental experience together:
  • Watch the sunset in summer's waning weeks after sneaking into a beautiful park after closing time.
  • Take a midnight stroll through lightly falling snow to give them a chance to talk out something which has been causing them stress or pain recently.
  • Reminisce together about something you did years ago.
  After this beautiful moment, feeling a surge of quiet resolve, you inform your Adored One that you have something to say. Calmly, matter-of-factly describe the nature of your feelings for them, perhaps describing when you first recognized that they were destined to be the love of your life.

After telling them everything, how should your beloved's simulacrum respond?

• Their reaction to this confession is typically one of flattered surprise, sometimes bordering on complete bafflement. As it begins to sink in, however, you move closer, touching their arm or face, and kiss them. Obviously, they will respond favorably to this.
• Perhaps they, too, have been hiding feelings for you?
• "I knew you were interested in me, but I had no idea it was so intense..."
• If they are already in a relationship, this will lead them to reevaluate what they really mean to their S.O. and whether they might be better off with you.
• After it's clear that everything is going to work out, you might want to softly sing your favorite lovesong into their ear.

This one is set at some point in the future, at least a year -- maybe several. You long ago resigned yourself to the fact that your Adored One would never see you in the way you see them. Despite this, your feelings have not really changed. The two of you have, thankfully, developed a strong, deep friendship which has served you both very well. They have gone through many unsuccessful relationships while you've remained almost perpetually single (nobody else can really grab your interest). Eventually, though, the gatekeeper of your bliss comes to an epiphany of sorts, wipes the obstructions from their vision, and realizes not just that you are perfect for them, but that you have been in love with them all this time. (This epiphany could be gradual, over the course of a few weeks, until they decide to bring it up. It could also be relatively sudden; maybe you are having a conversation about their latest breakup... "I don't understand it... why can't I just meet somebody who won't go weird on me or treat me like dirt? Why can't I find somebody... like... you...?") After the idea settles in their head, they initiate a kiss, which naturally leads shortly afterwards to hour upon hour of slow, tender, and spiritually transcendant lovemaking. The critical factor here is that you do nothing to reveal your feelings or win them over -- it's all them.

Well, you've been pining for your Adored One for what seems like forever, and nothing has come of it. And sadly, because of work or school, you have to move away, leaving them behind. Over the next few months, though, your Adored One becomes restless, and then distraught as they realize that your departure has left a void in their life that they hadn't anticipated! You can choose between a first or third person perspective for the unfolding events... Imagine the whole scenerio from your own perspective, perhaps receiving emails from your beloved in which they describe their increasing restlessness, even before they realize how much they miss you! Or, you can watch the events of their life directly like a movie in your mind. This approach allows you to witness their epiphany, which is a plus.--Suggested by "Jessica" in Tacoma

Tragedy can be an emotional catalyst. You may like to try out a "damsel in distress"/"strong man with irresistable vulnerability" type fantasy where you place your Adored One in a bad situation and then swoop in to save them. They could be grieving over the loss of a family member or pet, for example, and in need of comfort. Maybe they were in an accident -- hit by a car right in front of your eyes! Quickly, run to them! Cradle them with tears running down your cheeks and ride along in the ambulance. (They'll be okay, don't worry.) You could go as far as to rescue them from a mugging, if that's your thing. There are many variations on the "mistreated by their S.O." theme, too, ranging from melodramatic physical or emotional abuse to a more subtle form of hurt brought about by callousness, spite, infidelity, or a plain failure to understand the heart and mind of your beloved.

Here is a series of further fantasies using on the "rescue" motif, sent by 'Hannah from Great Yarmouth', who is clearly an expert daydreamer:

If you have reached the stage of saving the Light of Your Life, and you are in need of a fantasy of a more elaborate construction, try turning the tables. In the format for the classic �rescue me� -- to be fluffed up with your own details -- you have just had a furious argument with your loved one in which you perhaps condemned them for their harsh treatment of you in your despair. They have replied in a suitably uncaring-seeming manner (disguising their deeper, untapped feelings for you). In your angst you turn and run from them, sobbing your little heart out, only to head blindly into the path of a car. As the speeding vehicle approaches your Delight is struck with terror at the thought of losing you and runs to save you, heedless of the danger they are putting themselves in. Here you can split, depending on your mood or preferred style.

In the first your Hero succeeds in reaching you, knocking you out of the path of the car and taking the brunt themselves. Here we revert to going with them in the ambulance etc, except this time when they wake up and you are the first person they see, holding their hand, never leaving their side, they break down, professing their undying love for you, and how it never hit them until that split second in which they thought they might lose you forever.

In the second, slightly more self-indulgent option (but hey, what�s a little ridiculous sentimentality for if not for fantasyland?), something happens that stops your Beloved from reaching you (perhaps -- if you are in the mood for it -- the classic Two Men With an Obscure Pane of Glass routine) in time, and the car hits you. You fly up into the air as the vehicle screeches to a halt, and land unconscious on the ground. At this moment you switch to third person and watch as the Adored One runs to your side, believing you to be dead. As they accompany you in the ambulance and hold the vigil by your bedside (holding your hand and kissing your peacefully closed eyes) you could even replay all your encounters from their point of view, seeing them from a new, loving light. When you eventually wake up and switch back to your own perspective, it is to find them holding your hand, white as a sheet and -- can that be tears in their eyes? You are confused and scared to find yourself in a hospital and full of tubes, but your Treasured one recognises your panic right away, calmly shushes you, perhaps stroking you hair soothingly, then leans forward and kisses you gently. You then fall asleep happily in their arms.

There are a hundred variations of the �rescue me� theme. Another simple favourite is to pick a �friend� that is being particularly mean at the moment (such a �friend� is, after all, dispensable). In this situation they have said something especially hurtful, and you have run away to a hiding place of your own (probably a classroom, but adjust accordingly). All that has to happen now is for the One You Desire to happen across you in your hidey hole, take you into their arms, and to hold you close against them. As you pour your troubles out to them they take one look at your puffed up, red, blotchy face, and fall helplessly in love with you.

A short but sweet one is to come home and find them sitting in the rain on your doorstep. When you approach they say nothing, just stand up, take one look at you and take your breath away with the most amazing kiss ever. No explanation. No storyline. No complaints.

Finally, there is the Old Faithful. Works in every book and film you care to name, and so is naturally suited to fantasies. Let it be midnight. Let it be raining. Let you be running away in despair, certain that you have lost them forever. Let Loved One realise their undying love for you, and come chasing after you. Whilst you are wrapped up in your raincoat, they are wearing just a thin white shirt. Let them eventually catch up with you on a bridge (an old haunt where you used to stand together and discuss your love lives, which you have visited as a last goodbye to your life of misery, and where they instinctively knew you�d be). Let them beg for your forgiveness over some cruelty. Be vigilant. Don�t give in just yet. Are you sure they are worth your love? In fact, you might even turn away from them. But not too fast, so that they have time to catch your arm and make some final impassioned attempt. Then give in. Stand there kissing in the rain. All night.

reality check

i nearly died two weeks ago. in body. my spirit had already been broken, the last shreds of self-belief & sense of self-worth shredded from what was essentially an emotionally abusive relationship. with myself & the person who i mistakenly thought was my love.

i went away like a wounded animal to die with a trail of burned bridges in my wake. after being the subject of an extensive police hunt i was scheduled against my will into a mental institution for a few days until it was deemed i was no longer a danger to myself. i thought i would never get out. but surprisingly did.

until 48 hours ago i didn't really think i should have been released because i was so disturbed with a mind in utter turmoil. i still wanted to die & was planning to after this weekend just past [i'd just meet a couple of project deadlines first]. this time i would do it properly so i'd never go back to that place again. my secret mantra.

suicide addicts are selfish pricks. but we don't think so at the time. my motivation was fueled on a twisted perspective of poetic nobility, sacrifice and selflessness. a reluctant resignation that the magnum opus might never exist & that i was cursed with the opposite of the midas touch. me = poison ivy. i was living my own self-directed death ballad.

my friend steve points out: no corpse looks that beautiful after a few days hanging around the bush flyblown, bird pecked & trawled by ants. perfectly applied make-up wasted. someone i know who jumped the gap a couple of years back wasn't found for three months. romantic vision begone.

and then something strange happened. some of my not permanently alienated friends & family came together from near and far & inadvertantly saved me over the last couple of weeks. they meant to but i was sure it was a hopeless cause. 

initially i was just going through the motions & as much as i tried to fill it, the emptiness was all pervasive. i feel cheap that my weird epiphany came so fast & culminated over such a short period into one epic unexpected conclusion last night. for the first time, i saw myself & then him in a clear light. what they say is true: he really wasn't worth it. love is blind.

all the long lost pieces came suddenly back together & i was no longer humpty dumpty. they just fell into place & incredibly i walked away like a miracle survivor from a mega budget hollywood burning wreck with unbridled pyrotechnics, unbroken & scratchfree.

the damaged bridges still require repairs but my sleeves are rolled up for the blood, sweat & tears which lays ahead revealing the only visible scars which are on my wrists not heart. a constant reminder of the frailty that love can bring in a world of misdirection. we are so fallible. 

the future is uncertain, as change is welcomed in all its fluid luxuriousness.

still there is no replacement for love, truth & beauty. humanity might be flawed and i am as good a crazy poster girl as any, but we must own our flaws. channel & embrace them. that is art. story. perfection.

haiku: towel dry washed-up flock

broken heart, twisted mind

perverse cuckoo's nest scheduled

towel dry washed-up flock

glass half empty

absentee survivor guilt

 photo: copyright AP?

this week is like one epic post-apocalyptic train-wreck. christchurch earthquake has irrevocably impacted my life. my crippling guilt & shame are so immense. why? because i'm not even there.

 photo: copyright - TVNZ still - AP

but still the ensuing devastation seeing the city of my greatest "coming of age" stories, my heritage, the pain of chasing my friends & family down via social media, interwebs, phone, etc watching the ongoing decimation & also enduring resilience of my people and all the others who have selflessly come has attacked my very core. nothing will ever be the same again. an emotional mirror not dissimilar to september 11.

deadlines have fallen & crashed at my feet as the compulsion to know everything & to keep abreast of developments & throw energy into the hope well so as to increase the likelihood of a miracle, the constant updates or lack of has been... draining. torturous even. here i sit in front of a computer in my humble film studio aptly supplied by power, with a fresh glass of fresh tap water, the ability to eat anything i want & with all facilities at my disposal. what's wrong?

survivor guilt from catastrophes is well documented. it's a well recognised subgroup of PTSD - post traumatic stress disorder. first officially recognised with those who'd lived through concentration camps & the holocaust - the downside of the elation of living is potentially overshadowed by this sensation experienced by many, after the initial shock recedes. think of schindler's breakdown in schindler's list.

still i feel like a fake. or a phony, as holden caulfield would say. it's not like i'm actually there off my fat ass. it's cringe-worthy that i've spent the week blocking out my clashing & banging sydney life. instead almost 24/7 i've been projecting my energy into the peoples' life-force far-off in christchurch whose souls lie trapped under the rubble. captivated by the real-life drama.

i suppose absentee survivor guilt is a manifestation offered by the ubiquitiousness of our modern day media. first we saw the gulf war televised, 9-11, new orleans... these days we have disasters on demand. second degree trauma or universal consciousness is no less real.

 photo: copyright getty images

in many ways despite not experiencing the horror of the actual shakes those from afar have the ability to tap into the 360 degree visual impact more than others who are actually present in outlying suburbs etc cut-off without electricity or communications. the images & heart-wrenching emotions are splattered all over our televisions, computer monitors & iPads on the hour every hour. and sometimes more. click refresh faster. the degree of connection is amplified. 

we watched a guy in order to be extracted from a broken building having his legs sawn off with a hacksaw for crissakes. and someone else had to do it. that wasn't "house", that was real.

 photo: copyright REUTERS

we are driven to reduce what it means to be human. it is the invisible thing which drives & binds us to one another. tragically it often takes an event of such horror to supercede segregative fear & suspicion and become brothers & sisters in supporting arms.

although this has been an immensely crushing time it's also incredibly inspiring watching the constant heroism for the sake of others not self which has become a matter of course for all those involved. we've all seen the stories. most of us have cried. some haven't stopped.

 photo: copyright iain mcgregor/REUTERS

although many of us absentees are not physically there manning soup kitchens, pulling bodies or bricks from the rubble, sweeping liquefied silt off streets or lending a shoulder to cry on, we are spiritually present. guilt can be harnessed as an excellent mobilizer of productive action. and action leads to resolution which is universally craved. like kinetic energy it must transfer and be passed on into useful energy otherwise it eats the souls of the living & the generations who follow. the scars of trauma are more than skin-deep.

 photo: copyright john grainger, the daily telegraph

us absentee survivors who cannot be there offer solidarity in support; financially & emotionally, a union of strength, to stand proud bearing a beacon of hope for those who are at ground zero who will often understandably run short of all these. to go on. the people need us. the power of love is a formidable force indeed. it is our humanity.

NB. thank you to air new zealand who are still offering compassionate airfares for those to get in or out. and all the other companies who have come to the fore to provide the building blocks for the people to grieve, heal and in time grow.

PS. survivor guilt is a crippling & very serious mental condition which can be terminal in worst cases. please look after those around you & seek medical attention if it persists. we all have to look after each other.

secret indulgences

on days like these, i remind myself of the wonderful people who surround me. people i call best friends. i owe them my survival. i can't imagine them musing over which funeral song to choose [the jackson five "ABC" please]. 

and so, i continue to work in a steadfast way occasionally flitting like a butterfly entertaining egg-laying on a large juicy kale leaf [if only there were some uneaten ones left]. 

the demons squashed beneath the weight of the list of incredible things to do, stories to experience & share.

open your mind [shut for business]

meet rozelle mental hospital otherwise known as callan park.

in a couple of weeks time punk monk propaganda will take over this abandoned space with a select group of experimental artists to bring the old girl back to life in the guise of a series of video installations as part of the multiple personalities exhibition in conjunction with leichardt council.

in the meantime since this healthcare facility [which oozes "one who flew over the cuckoo's nest" sensibility] closed a large section of the community who call this a home away from home are displaced.

wandering around the shell it's grossly apparent that home really is where the heart is. no matter how soul-less this environment appears to be, it is steeped in sadness and emotionally tangible history and the ghosts of christmas past. there are still traces of many stories to be told here. some which may wish to be forgotten. others desperately vying for attention. ward 17 is the legendary haunted piano ward...

join us in december for an altogether different flavour from santa's sack where we experiment with historical imprints in geographical space & bring mythology into the present. the shadows do speak.

[pix by punk monk felix]

cat on a hot tin roof

this is my daughter's favourite photo of me. it has sat in her room for years amongst tot to tween to teen junk in a photo frame gathering dust until recently when i surreptitiously 'borrowed' the frame for a film shoot & reacquainted myself with this lost visage.

i must have scanned the image at the time knowing my terrible record for losing precious items because it's turned up in my photopile media archive as i was trawling through looking for something else.

my GF sonja took this pic on a day when i really did not want to be filmed. only an hour prior i had been gripped in angst & immobilized by tears, the slave of depression & agoraphobia not wanting to leave the safety nest of my little inner city warehouse up high beyond the reach of the fray, to face the pressure, plasticity & responsibilities of the world below.

eventually i'd faced my need to disappear & used all my strength to pick up the phone desperately trying to stall & reschedule a photography project with her. she flagrantly disobeyed, turned up on cue, banged down the door & pulled me from my turtle-like invisibility & despair. as do the best of friends.

taken from the kitchen window ledge between cigarettes & tissues looking out onto the patchwork of urban alley roofs, this is an accurate reflection of the day i acknowledged that i live with mental illness. an artist/thinker's lot. there are worse days.

jet plane

a little film i made with dermot & raen on the run between airports on 2 X NOKIA phones for KINO KABARET's 48 hour film challenge in conjunction with adelaide film festival 2009.

part of my "loves me not" introverted narrative mental health series all shot on mobile phones for punk monk propaganda.