Wednesday, 13 June 2012

Lil bit of paedophilia

As promised earlier today. xo gossip goat.


A man, alone, in a room.


The man sits in silence.

The day I met Lilith was the one singular most important event in the history of my life. Not that I’m attributing much to said life – havnt’t walked on the moon, still can’t follow politics beyond the Sunday cartoon and I sure don’t think I’ll be winning the Nobel Prize next week. But Lilith...she may not be a little golden statue, something to ever so humbly explain to guests as she sits on my mantle basking in unwarranted love, but she remains my greatest achievement. Or maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she doesn’t want to ‘remain’ my achievement at all. That’s what she said to me you know. She turned up those periwinkle eyes – Jeepers Creepers, where’d ya get those peepers? – opened the pout of her mouth and stoutly said “Enough is enough Bernard. This is over.” She couldn’t even reference our lives as ‘us’. It was a ‘this’ to her. Lilith was never quite so taken was grammar as I was. She thought I was nit-picky, a stick in the mud. Swinging my hand as we laughed along she would say “Bear you old thing, take a chill pill already!” and flew off elsewhere. Her precious wings caught flight of winds i was too disenchanted to catch – I watched her spiral into the distance. I never dreamed that distance would be more than physical space. And yet.

The man sits in silence.

Full name is Bernard Oswald Gunge, residence 21 Oxham street London, age completely irrelevant. That was always my biography, self-constructed. Whenever Lilith proclaimed it, it became a growling sentient being that ripped and howled until it was quite obvious that the facts were as disturbing as our thoughts were hopeful.  This is how she used to say it:

Full name Bernard Oswald Gunge, residence apartment 1b 21 Oxham street London, age far too old and completely relevant.
Then she would sigh, dolefully. Sigh and sigh until it sounded as waves on the shore, ever present and ever coming. Sure as sure she would sigh her ocean call. And yet.

The man sits in silence.
She told me she loved me. At a completely inappropriate time, too. It was really a nuisance at the time, but I suppose that’s just bloody Shakespeare irony at play isn’t it. Ha ha. Funny. The more I think about it the more hilarious it is, really. She tells me she loves me – I say no no my pet you don’t love me, go off and explore the world – then she says no don’t make me leave you my dear  - and i acquiesce and then explore what’s been sequestered away in my heart and find  - no Lilith I was wrong you must stay please – no no Bear. No Bernard, you were right. You were right to tell me to leave. I was wrong. This is wrong. 16 years apart too wrong. And yet.

The man sits in silence.

And yet I still can’t believe that I told you to leave me.  And as our mindsets slipped past each other in opinion, from one polar to the opposite we swapped, that nothing caught each other? No small catch of eye or brush of hand was enough to make you stay? Yes I know I told you to leave but I was wrong my darling I was wrong, and I’m sorry and I told you that but you really don’t understand what I’m going through. No you don’t, you never understood because you never listened to me, and when i put my hands on the soft sides of your face to make you listen  - to make you see  - you resented me doing that didn’t you well you shouldn’t have because I knew best and this has only happened because you put your two cents in when you didn’t need to and now look  you swung your eyes onto the dark horizon rather than my heart where you told me they would always lie (lay there lying to me).  And there you saw the chasm between my two rickety digits and your two spritely digits. You saw it. You saw it you saw it you did you did you did. You saw it don’t deny that you did you liar you always lied to me you bloody cheating heart-killer but –

Stay my darling my love how i miss you how i scream in agony that you aren’t here. god Lilith it’s all so loud and I can’t stop screaming and it’s all hear in front of me, the truth of us, that I killed us quicker than a cyanide shot glass and we never would have worked, 16 years of unlikelyness that only hit me in reality when my heart had sunken into fantasy my love my sweet pet how i miss you how i scream for your hand on mine you know i think one of us has to go because if we are apart we might as well be dead don’t you think my dear what do you say darling just what do you think about that you damn -

The man sits in silence.

Tuesday, 12 June 2012

AWOL

Hello my pets!


Yes. I know. I know it's been approximately three thousand years since I have last written (yes that was technically correct).


BUT I HAVE THE BEST EXCUSE/REASON/JUSTIFICATION EVAR.


I forgot my password. To ALL my gmail accounts! And although generally Google is pretty chill and happy to be in a relationship with me, on attempted recovery of my password we had some issues to work through. Firstly it thought I was trying to hack in and steal bitches money, then it thought i wasn't who I said I was, he thought I was seeing other browsers etc etc...
I think in the end it was just too embarrassed to realise that it was wrong and give me the damn password. After mediation with an impartial third party, the lovely tech savy Kate, we worked it out, and things are once more a motion-picture-flowery-meadow-of-google-and-Sophia-eternal-love.


LIKE I WOULD CHEAT ON GOOGLE WITH INTERNET EXPLORER ANYWAY.
I wouldn't let that browser 'explore' me even if he promised no YouTube adds. Bitch please. Can II provide me with Jonny Depp browser backgrounds? NO. Didn't think so. NOT INTERESTED BUDDY.


Now I'm having deep and meaningful creative thoughts about the logistics of a computer-person relationship. Possible? Probable? Perfect?
Hmm.


Well, it would be handy for setting the mood. Like you know how you listen to a song and your all like "OMG THIS IS THE PERFECT SONG FOR WHEN I MARRY THAT GUY THAT LOOKED AT ME ONCE FROM ACROSS THE STREET ILY JEROME!!!" ? Dating Google, he would obviously be the baus of YouTube, and he would set dat mood RITE. Having a cuddly moment? Bon Iver. Having some lols?  Search up dat Kreyshaun. Your entire life would be sound tracked and delightful and then I could maybe finally achieve the life goal of living The Notebook. Yes.


HAHA AND SO MANY GOOD JOKES TO MAKE
"Baby, you can delete your history with me any day ;)"
"Error 301? Damn. I must be getting a little overheated...your gonna need to restart my system OH YEAH"
"I love the sound of your keystrokes. Want to hear mine....?"


Actually but on that note, history. Could get awks. I'm a pretttty open person except about really deep personal stuff, but even I recognise that there are boundaries in info sharing. You do not just walk up to an acquaintance and tell them about the crazy animal porn you were watching last night. IF YOU DATED GOOGLE....YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO SAY IT.
He would just know.
As soon as you walked into aforementioned hypothetical room, he would just look at your with his screen-brightened eyes and JUDGE YOU.
And you probably deserve to be judged if you were watching that, that's just nasty haha.


ANYWAY must be off to WOZ rehearsals...I will post some actual writing on here sooner or later :) kbye

Tuesday, 1 May 2012

I SWEAR I'M NOT EMO.


Hot little hands and a stone-cold heart
Splicing and shredding this construct apart
Love can’t win when it’s not in play
How can it sing when it does’nt have a say?
It whispers in cracks of dark mind-gloom
A box in an empty corner of the room
That we once lived in, this castle of ours
Built from forever gazing up (see those stars xx)
Brick by shtick and stones on loan
Every day was a bill to repay
But you forgot to mention that chivalry is dead
And i had to pick up the tab instead
Sharing is caring and you stole me away
Didn’t leave me any part of myself, except the part that could hurt.





SO I HAVEN'T BEEN THROUGH A BREAK-UP RECENTLY.
But if a girl can't write emo break-up prose then I simply do not comprehend the world I live in, nor do I wish to. I'm sorry it's been a while my pets, shit's been cray and living must be done before I can write my random-ness down. Living includes maths assesments. As in the one tomorrow. As in the one I have studied really hard for AND IF I DON'T PASS THEN I AM DROPPING OUT TO GO BE A POLE DANCER BECAUSE THAT'S ALL IM GOOD FOR CLEARLY. kbye xx

Monday, 26 March 2012

Assessments.

I Feel Like I'm Going To Die


Panic attacks and fights like a viral infection
Red-lighting  my mind's  neural intersection
Can you hear that high-pitched vocal inflection?
It's just me internally, screaming for a re-election :


Because clearly the authority within in my mind right now
Is an entity with as much sense as the common cow
Even after every noble self made promise and vow
My actions remain free-willed and refusing to bow


To what I'm well aware is for the good and best
It's like being in Iraq and Ebay-ing your bullet-proof vest
Just for a lol and to experience the zest
Of being examined upon life, and failing the test


While we're on this topic, guess what's tomorrow?
My modern history assessment! What joy! (read:sorrow)
All the study I've been doing my mind will now borrow
LOL JOKES in procrastination I've been far too thorough


Because what have I been doing while letting my education lag?
I've been scrolling down pages of useless 9gag.




I'm not even joking guys, I haven't been this doom-ridden since the last Harry Potter novel came out and I realised I would have to change the reason behind my life. I know I'm going to fail. You know how I know that? Becasue I know that I know that I know nothing.
And that may lead you to believe that I know something, ANYTHING.


But I really don't.


Aware of my own stupidity, I write ridiculous poetry and watch the minutes tick on past, all while berrating myself. It reminds me of what Einstein said, something like "Insanity is doing the same thing a thousand times over and expecting different results."
If we're going to go by that definition, you know, by one of the greatest minds of our time.....


Then I am the definition of insane.


okaybye and good luck to all you studiers. screw you all. xx









Sunday, 25 March 2012

"Mr. Potter : our new celebrity."

Hello again.


YES, I KNOW. I'M SHOCKED TOO. I updated again within two weeks! Goodness me, it's almost like I'm reliable. Almost. Not quite. ANWAYS :


I'm hoisting my eternal love for all things Harry Potter related upon you only because I am a lazy idiot who is too lazy to work and then wonders why I don't do well in assessments. Yes, assessments. You know, the ones in about 48 hours? Yeah, those. Have I studied I hear you question?


HA. Oh you guys.


NO OF COURSE I HAVEN'T!
I wrote this instead! A far more worthy use of time I would wager. Now if only I can find a way of relating this into modern history  - maybe Emmeline Pankhurst loved sorcery? - I'll be set.


Mr. Potter




Famed for his scar and quick flight on a broom,
Everyone stares when he enters the room.

He’s young and angsty, his past full of trouble,
His future guided by Dumbledore and Mcgonnigal.

His best friend’s Ron (who owns an evil rat),
His sidekick’s Hermione (the nerd with the cat).

But he’s also got friends like Hagrid and Dobby,
Who benevolently supress his rule breaking hobby

He’s battled huge snakes with venom dripping fangs,
Gone one-on-one with Deatheater gangs.

He has a history of sucsessful giant maze navaigation,
Always scrapes  through every desperate situation.

He’s had friends become enemies and visa verca,
And if you really piss him off he’s sure to curse ya.

He’s quite short, I know but have you seen those eyes?
Green emeralds sparkle among the rest of those guys

His wand handling technique is experienced and bold
I’m told by Cho (slut) it’s quite something to behold

Don’t worry though – I’m well aware of all his many flaws
But frankly they seceed to the charms in his drawers

But it’s more than just that, I feel obliged to stress
We dream of having kids – but first comes  the white dress

I’m Ginny by the way, and his name is Harry
And one day, i know, he’s the boy im gonna marry.


Friday, 23 March 2012

IRON WILL OF IRONY

So it occurred to me today that it seems rather ironic that I dared to call this (blog?) Word Collector. while failing to provide it with words to....collect. After much consideration of this shameful double standard (The Gillard Government should hire me.) I collated my thoughts and established the following options.


1. Change the name of the blog to something that in no way implied me to write on it.
    ....Then I realised that even I, the master of illogical logic, couldn't justify writing a blog that didn't need me to    
    write on it. Scrap Option One.


2. Write on the blog.
    ....I saw potential. I was going to go with this but then my mind conjured up  -


3. Get the leprechauns to write for me.
    ....why didn't I think of that earlier?


So I've had a chat to them and they'll be ready to work from next week onwards for the meagre price of one pot of gold and potato famine insurance. I almost feel like I'm taking advantage of the poor things.


ANYWAY! Now that I'm here, I'll try not to codify my hallucinogenic rants. If I'm going to bother to write anything I should really try and make it comprehendable. Or not. I have a feeling that if anyone reads this, it's not going to be for my serious take on contemporary politcal issues. So we may all have to embrace my love for the ridiculous. On that note, here, have a picture :






Sigh. I don't even like Dan-Rad, but he IS Harry Potter.
And I'm not gonna lie. This picture is smokin'.


...You're right. I'll just stick to writing. I'll leave the jokes for the unfortunate people who made friends with me.


Tonight I went on a bit of a tumblr rampage. I'm having a bit of a thing for James Dean - esque guys atm, so anyone who has a bike just went up about 50 points in my eyes. BOYS, GET YOUR LICENSE. Yes, I know, yet another double standard - I'm almost 17 and in all those years I still haven't rounded up the effort to sit my L's. However its not like i need them - i walk to the kitchen, not drive.


GAHHHH I HAVE THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL SOUNDTRACK STUCK IN MY HEAD. It's one loud, strange cacophony of cross-dressing men and wenches singing about the French Revolution and falcons in dives, while in the background, "I hear he cracks the longest whip." This is surely the first step towards insanity. Maybe that was a while back though, like when I employed the leprechauns. Yep, that was definitely it.


I'm going to leave you now with two treats, one definitely more merry than the other.


Firstly, this, because I enjoy it and it's uplifting :




And secondly this, because I felt like writing properly for the first time in about a month ( rusty and depressed, but hey it's a start) :

Emotional Baggage ( literally interpreted for your convenience. Idiot) 

Bloated brown leather with a handle on top
Four corners make a mindful suitcase
Flung open, filled in, falling with a flop
It ques with the line of things I can’t face.

The handle is worn, grip marks show clear
So. So heavy without the heave of will
The burden behind growing with every year
How long till it snaps? Till the contents spill?

Yet the metal clasps remain firm to latch
A saviour of the whole damned mess
Always holding tight what my mind can’t catch
My packing lies safe ; my mouth won’t guess

But just as I’m packed and ready to go
Comes a moment of passive fustration
I throw it all down, rip it open and lo –
See my meaningless ministrations

What’s the worth of my plans and my schemeing
If it thieves the place of hopeful dreaming?


 OKAY BYEE KIDS





Thursday, 1 March 2012

Bloody Blood

Hey kids!


So today I went to the Red Cross Youth Ambassador training day, and now I am back to yet again thrust social activism in all of your unwilling faces!


I'm actually surprised anyone reads this, I mean, I'm annoying MYSELF at this rate haha....


ANYWAY GUYS! Here's the quick and easy link that will take you directly to becoming a better person, enjoy : http://www.redcross.org.au/


Also, here's something weird. Today I made up with someone I've inadvertently been having somewhat of a feud with. And you know why this person randomly decided to hate me and cause me much angst and concern over what I possibly could have done?


I INTIMIDATED THEM.


When we first met. Apparently I'm intimidating.


......I KNOW RIGHT. WHO ELSE IS SURPRISED?


I thought with my ridiculous face-pulling, outrageously hipster clothes and ability to turn any sentence into a song - my best work today was "Oh look! Some blood! I hope it doesn't flood!" - meant that people were more likely to be either bemused or annoyed by me. But nay. Apparently all this enthusiasm is terrifying.


I wonder if that person is afraid of small, very cute puppies as well.


But anyway, it's good to have ended that feud. I don't really hold a grudge easily so it was sort of awkward. It was like Germany back in the day (the Hitler day) randomly trying to start a fight with Switzerland, like :


"HEY YOU. YOUUU SWISS DOGS YOU. YOU WITH YOUR CHOCOLATE AND YOUR ALPS THINK YOU'RE SOOO COOL DON'T YOU? YEAH, YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST HIDE LIKE A PANSY OVER THERE WITH ITALY AND FRANCE BUT REALLY YOU ARE JUST A POSER. YOU JUST LOVE YOURSELF DON'T YOU?"


"Ehhhh, not really. We tink we are alright. You know. Nutthink too speshale. Maybe a 7/10 on a good day, when the alps are being ze good little mountains and ze chocolate is nice I suppose. And how are you, Germany? Got those anger issues under control yet?"


"Bitch, please......ATAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK"


I swear that's what it felt like at the time. ANYWAY! Germany has now made peace and Switzerland is cool with that. As always :)


ANYWAY! This was simply a way for me to divert my time into a pursuit that wasn't homework. Mission achieved. I have successfully wasted time and fucked myself over for tomorrow.


SWEET. hehe okaybye