my safe tree.
out in the thundered field so rushed with rain i ran
to you; knowing you would let no branches drop
back to your bark, i huddled
until i was warm.

felt like i had sunlight in my mouth when i turned and laid my face
on your strong skin
and felt the safety of your strength protective
waking me

out of the cool, dead place where i had been
out of the dry, cool place where time had stored me,
stalled, expiry date approaching -
but now with my nest in your roots i could live hotly.

never before in my life have i smiled like this
or sighed. or has my sense of smell
seemed so alive. never before did people,
seeing me after a break, lean in and say
"it's good to see you looking so so HAPPY."

of course i get tired, still. of course
i fall into thought, too far, and get confused.
sometimes i bite. but i think
you will ever help pull me out of that dead well of wishing,
tipping me out to your arms where i sleep right and dream.

for you know, i was so afraid things would stay the same,
and now i need only pray that they never change.

i couldt sleep for ages i nearly got up to talk to you again
btu when i slept i dreamed about you
hyou and me were caught up in this scary international murder thing in this big old house with this scary old semi-retired butler who kept goign through his master's desk
but before we got there, we were in this crepy european seaside town, anyway, you were a jump-jet flyer, and there was a jumpjet, so you hot wired it, and went around doing loop the loops while i cowered, amazd yetterrified, in a lighthouse, and yuo cam e up almost right against the windows.
then it was time for us to go on to our next destination which was in spain or something, but somehow i ended up having to land the jumpjet myself - we sort of swapped places mystically one time when you came near the window, so i had to suddenly learn to fly it at top speed
and i only succeeded in landing it - not on the little runway provided but, because i had accidentally accellerated so much, on the runway sideways skewed then across the car[ppark almost down to the sea where i succeeded in grinding it to a haltwby putting my feet out the sides and waddling them in the dirt liek you do to stop a swing
i was pretty shaken, then we were ready to go on to spain but i remembered i didnt have my bag - id left it at a treehouse we visited
so i went back, and there were people sitting next to it - kids - and even though it was like 20 years since the day i'd last seen them and i was all grown up and they were still kids, they recognised me and said 'you're sascha! you mentored us when we were in year 1'
and now they were about to go to fort stret high school.
anyway they seemed to think i was an amazing mature woman especially when i told them about my boyfiend with his jumpjet.
they were eating lunch.
i found my bag and in it were some groceries i bought - a sandwich for my lunch and a chocwedge - you'd eaten yours before
you got in the plane, but id forgotten mine under the tree and now
it had turned into a soggy plastic sack of meltedness.
then you came up and smiled at the kids - they tried to follow us asking where we were off to, but suddenly neither us could remember the name of the palce
i felt sort of proud that, after boasting of you, you had urned up and really existed to their eyes
then wer were on our way basically next thing i knew in this manor house with this creepy butler
letter-opening and steam-opening his master's drawers and letter
looking for something in the desk that he needed to find before he culd kill him
and you and i were sort of trailing him sort of trying to stop him, but not wanting to risk or own lives too much
it was weird because he was kind of like the half-brother of his master, and yt his employee - hence the resentment
eventually we cornered him in the little bathroom below his master's garret, and his master came up the stairs behind us and said "what's going on" not expecting anyone to be up there in his private space
and the weirdest thing is
you looked at me, and i started covering fo rthe butler
the garret staircase split off two ways and one went to the master's turret study and the other went to this poky little room with magazines and an old couch and i said overloud to the butler
"Oh, [hisname], have you beewn hanging around in that dingy room again?"
at which the butler looked at me in wonder like 'why are you helping me?"
and i went and pushed the door and said charmingly back over my shoulder to where you the master and the butler were staring, "it's his guilty pleasure you know [Master's name], coming in here to read all the old 80s magazines"
... and then pretty well just after that i woke up.

when she began to contemplate her own textuality, she realised it was all a load of wank.

well u know i guess it is pretty cultural to scorn everything
yahoo
true
like to hump a tree, then scream "this tree SUCCCKKS!!!"
thinze
yes it's the proper way to do it
yahoo
you have to scream tho.
it's not good enough otherwise
thinaze
before or after?
yahoo
and then people come up to you and say "it's not good enough. not 'good enough'."
thinaze
what, the art?
yahoo
they do quotation marks in the air for the good enough - as indicated.
the treehumpng with lacklustre scream
thinaze
i love quotation marks
yahoo
as art.

**

thihaze
then u would be able to just patiently explain to them tha they were philistines.
yahoo
but you hyave to be patient
and u have to use the phrase "i think what everybody need to do first, is to calm down."
(preferably ensure they are already calm before saying that
then it is guaranteed to agitate)
thiaze
patience is the key to all interactions
yes, especially when it aggravates others
yahoo
yes. "yes."
thinkhaze
suckers
yahoo
lol.
oh, then you go and have a "Big Brekkie" at the most commercial looking independent cafe you cna find
one that looks so commercially successful and brand conscious that, though not yet a chain, it is definitely aboutu to become one.
Hassle them, once seated, aboutu whether their eggs are free trade.
thinaze
but it is still "independent"
yahoo
Their eggs will of course be local - but hassle them repeatedly.
And then ask for a quadruple shot espresso.
thinaze
i hate the artistic life, it is so much "effort"
yahoo
yes, it is "Effort" - with just a few days as an artist
you earn an "effort" stamp
you dream, on the fifth day's night,
that you are with your Grade 3 teacher
and she is asking you to put out your hand
and on it, she stamps the "Effort" stamp
with the grinning two-toothed hippo.
And you scream, making balled child-fists, "Effort? EFFORT?! What about RESULT!?!?!!?"

[re the cannes thing]
t-haze
8:53 PMi want to be that
i had a postmodern dream once, it was pretty cool, i thikn it is pretty cool to have a postmodern dream
yahoo
well, yes
but u should wake up and growl
like a culktureless dog

**

: ) actually ill probably break out in zits and die in sourceless stress on the caret, staring at the ceiling and drooling like a dying fish would drool, if they had any saliva
then as i lie there drooling, i'll get out my rush mat and my totem pole and shrunken heads and start chanting "who de debel you?" "who de debel you?" "you no speak-e, i kill-e!"
and if u still like me after that, well hey, we're sweet
: )
p-b
lol, I will love you with a purple face, bloated, head first in a toilet bowl
yahoo
what if i suddenly looked like billy zane, but with F-cups
every time there was a full moon?

hello pink apple
8:35 PMi dreamed i was ishmael
it was bizarre
jaon collins was there
and i had to hang on to a helecopter
t-aze
was she wearing furs?
like on the little feet of the helicopter? sounds scary
yahoo
lol
i wish the feet had been furry
it was hrorid, i had to cling on for deer life, all the while trying to choose between 80s movies that had been transferred to DVD
to watch if i ever made it onto the helicopter
or something like that.
t-aze
u are so totally postmodern
omg, the postmodern dream, it is totally a sign
yahoo
i know, i am becoming a FILMMAKER
whose films are remaindered
8:52 PMon the salt-swept floors of Cannes

**

then i was trying to show my sister a song on itunes
8:41 PMbut everything i clicked on, when i scanned track forward, turned out to be like an mp4 video of me singing opera (or trying)
and kit identified my voice as some particular opera singer, a not very good one, she thought i was miming to. but it was me! it was me! it was me doing karaoke along to phillipe jarrousky backing instruments.
and meanwhile
she and i were trying to watch Krabbé videos - but they were all taped in the wrong order, we were confused
I hjad to excuse myself, that the helicopter, and the potential impending visits from the whole Nevilles family, had thrown me.
Mumma was offended that I was going away to be with the Nevilles.

i love your skin
our faces close, your neck, our breathing
and like, for centuries, philosophers have been trying to take our souls out of our bodies
like, what the hell? i'm happy here:
i love you in my heart, that thumping muscle thing.

i went for a walk.
by the way.
around.
i could feel my fingers shrink.
it was cold and misty out.
really misty.
it's Guy Fawkes' night tomorrow night so
I walked past the ghostly kiddies rides and things they have out on Midsummer Common.
also i went down a stone stairwell i often pass in the way through from one stone court to another
peate_brian
what the hell is Guy Fawkes' night?
yahoo
and have never been down
it smelled of a sauna
and it turned out there were shower rooms down there
and 'bath' rooms
like for those weirdos who choose to go use a communal bath insteadof a communal shower
and they were in what looked like nun's cells, with white-painted vaulted ceilings
because that's how old the building is.
heavy doors too.