Recant...

Not entirely, but I do think that last night's outburst had a lot to do with hormones.
I'm feeling sensitive and low and fragile. I'm sure a sleep will do me well..

Andrew and I had a good chat about it, and I know my own little world is peppered with people i love and vice versa...

Freo is like a backrub from God...solace and comfort, big red cranes, and today, brooding gray sky to match my mood. But there's a smile in there somewhere.

Seriously, being in love has to be the best and hardest thing in the world. I relish it...

marrakech

crazy, silly sad banana

what are you doing?

why does it matter that it wasn't you? but she has the same name, isn't that strange on some level?

europe, yourope was yours..why do you want more now, now that it's not possible anyway...
would you want it to be possible?

i don't know what i want, says banana...but i do know. I want to stop somewhere, with one particular someone, and i want to stop wankering after the past. it just fucks me up somewhere in my dark core where sad patheticy (as timea would say, is that even a word?) lies, I want to stop being jealous of people and places in which i no longer have a say.

silly, sad banana, when will you be happy?

and all the twinkling view of the southern cross will only remind me tonight of what a monster i was. shame and knowing and sorry. i wish i was different then.

would things have been different then, would things have turned out differently, if i had been honest ande true and if he had made a decent effort? would i have wanted things differently?
No. I know that now. But why does it still sting like lemon juice in a rotten knife wound? Why can't i be happy that he's doing all the things he coulnd't do with me?

Andrew would say: stop feeling sorry for yourself, and I have no reason to feel sorry, this is true...

sad, silly banana...

take care take care

Do I dare be this happy?
Today I was so full of smiles that I wanted to eat the flowers off the eucalypts on the way out of uni...my future days curve with purpose and longing, just the way I dreamt them.

Freo has lost none of her pull and magic, yet I have gained something quite giant within myself and I don't feel the keening need to lose myself in her limestone bricked ways of history.

It's been another night of mad communication, and the distance is both lessened and lengthened...god what I would give to wrap around him in an evil bed. Not sharp points of desire just a snugglewish.

yet here I am, surrounded by pretty much all that is good in life, and wholesome and healthy and rich...and bless peter for refusing me a cigarette tonight. It will be good to go for another run tomorrow. And you know, even know, ten years after being on the cross country squad at ggs, when I run, I still think of Dapper and his funny emu run, and how good it was to have a coach like him.

Also had a lot of missy higgins stuck in my head ... time has changed, nothing at all, you're still the only one that feels like home. is Banana about to come to a stop?

Am about to go to bed, and read olde english politics in gyles brandreth's diary that I had bought for gareth, but he tastefully left his gifts behind. no matter, it's good reading before sleep.

And sleep- here, beneath the (radiant) southern cross, beneath sleeping crows and kookaburras, in darkness that is both silk and velvet and moisture, and a safety and peace like there isn't anywhere else in the world.

I hope the shit doesn't hit the fan in Hungary too severely this day...

Something in the air

The second 42 degree day. Clothes dry in -literally- five minutes. The sun, relentless, destructive, strong and beautiful.

I read a lot today, and for the first time I started feeling that yes, maybe this can work, and that I'm starting to understand a little bit better what this whole topic might be about. It's also wonderful reading up on Hungary's contributions to sociology.

Then Betty, Remy and I went down to leighton beach and I fell headlong into heaven. The colour of the water, the sand, the texture...the cranes over to the left, and endlessness to the right. Rottnest like a mirage on the horizon, also dotted with ships. Home, stamped everywhere, stuck in my heart like a comforting stake :)

Then Betty dropped me at the corner of High street and I ambled into the centre, though most shops were shut. Frangipani trees, hibiscus, bouganvillea dotted my way and even the moreton bay figs spread their heavy, heady, lusty scent about. This heat intensifies everything, makes things sharper, bigger, weightier.

After buying some stamps to fix my postcard obsession, I walked towards the market, when a man, looking not-all-there waddled towards me, and I cringed inwardly, thinking he was going to ask for change. Instead, he shoved, quite forcefully, a five dollar note in my hand, and hurried off, despite my surprised protestations. It must be something in the air.

People I pass are full of smiles, which I take, and return, and put in my pocket where they sit, with the smell of frangipani, and my pockets pockets of sunshine.
If Balint was here with me, then there would not be room for improvement at all.

I was saying to Betty today, that really, I'm okay like this, because we communicate so well, but sometimes I jsut want the luxury of seeing him for a little while. Just for an afternoon, or a good long night... but i can't complain. At the end of the day, it's just the physical that's missing. he is everywhere...

and before I get sentimental...it's time for my run :)

Singed in the morning

so hot, that the air burns in the shade
so hot, that hot water comes out of the cold tap
so hot that cold showers aren't enough, blankets are unneccessary and the air vibrates with some secret shimmer. I'm in love with it.

I managed to get nicely sunburned on Sunday when we went to Rotto. I forget, and am awed, again and again by the power of the sun.

Yesterday I converted B and P's lounge into a bedroom of sorts, making the fireplace my wardrobe and going through all the boxes I had left behind. To see the old books again, the old photos, bits and pieces that I'd written.

Gareth left a lot behind, as if he was trying to shed all remnants of the australian year when he departed. Odd to remember those days, in the cramped little house in Hampton road. B and I watched a few old party videos, when we were all pissed and happy, and Gareth played for the camera. There were happy days, I mustn't erase that.

Pete asked me yesterday if I was happy. And without hesitation I said yes. He did somewhat of a double take, as if this was not what he was expecting, but under that steaming car port roof, having just come back from a run I felt that nothing was missing from my life. Of course if Balint was here, everything would be perfect. But it all is pretty perfect anyway because in all ways but one, he is here. All the time.

The run - phew, in the last bit (going up hill, very clever) I had to employ all sorts of self-encouragement, but it worked. I've got a plan to work up to 10k's in 12 weeks. Memories of cross country at GGS...

And now, Weber, in an almost broken morning, with birds outside the window...and it's going to be 42 today.

whisky and the monument

bah, last night turned messy. Not for me, thankfully enough, but even I had more to drink than I wanted to.
peter, bless him, was adamant that we party, as it was my first weekend back etc etc...

not being one to mix spirits anymore (oooh aren't I all fucking grown up) I had scotch on the rocks while we were still at home, talking about things and women etc. He's a hard nut to crack, my husband. Then Betty came home and we got a taxi (because of Remy's leg, not laziness) into Freo, and went upstairs to Kulcha for a drink and the view. Of course the others were bitching because they couldn't smoke, but thankfully that's at least one vice I've managed to quite easily kick.

And then we went to the motherfucking newport hotel. can there be anywhere more obvious for memories? but there were no lurking long haired aussies, and I was glad to take my leave of the place. Naturally we went for kebabs and chips with garlic sauce, so my careful healthy eating went out the window.

Afterwards, Remy bought Betty and I flowers, and then I left them, and walked, shoes in hand to the monument, slowly, relishing every gravelly step, loving the balmy air, and somehow (of course!) wishing I wasn't alone. Poor Balint, I think he got anna overload yesterday. Of the ooh I love you miss you rah rah rah variety. But the good thing is I don't feel so sheepish today. I feel a bit annoyed that I got so wankered, but I'm going to go for a run and get the nasties out of my system. What I would give for lemonade from a jar, and a B1 vitamin in his little kitchen.

The monument was gorgeous as ever, my mood soared even further when I saw the twinkling of my red cranes in the dark.
This morning I can feel the result of my barefoot foray, the bottom of feet look like the road they walked on...but I'm glad...

good morning...

Booyeembara Park

Memories press in heavy here. In all the streets of Freo as I walked yesterday I felt time and the past pressing down on my lungs, muscling in on my heart. But the odd feeling only lasted a few minutes and then joy flooded through me again, unstoppable.
This place is not similar to any other place.

Uni yesterday was dream-like. Heavy hanging eucalyptus branches and the smell of wet, green grass. I was excited and nervous to be back, and my first lecture is today.

In the evening I walked to the tropicana for the voicebox poetry reading, and read the teapot poem. It was well received but the crowd was very small, and I was on my own, so I left at half time, and from under my favourite tree by the old prison I called B and read him the poem I wrote for him. He is somehow everywhere. And with all the emails we exchange I feel the distance lessen.
I walked by the flame trees behind that disgusting parking lot, and smiled to find that they had no flame flowers, but were green and lush in the almost-full-moonlight.

And this morning...waking to Peter's alarm, to hear Pete and Betty groaning in bed, the I-don't-want-to-get-up noises...and I made them coffee and then went for a run to Booyeembara Park, where the clouds were backlit and eerie and beautiful, and as I got to the top of the hill where the entrance to the park is, it began to rain. A warm summer rain that cooled me down just enough, and I ran slowly alongside ibises, and parrots, and ducks and felt so fucking lucky my soul was overflowing (again).

I'm already feeling healthier and fitter and this can only get better. Today I will find work, and then that takes care of all aspects of my life. Hard to believe I've only been here two days.

Radio national: I treasure it.