To be granted a weekend of clarion skies,
Then immediately plunged into the first taste of winter winds.
Yesterday I left work in inky oblivion-
I fear warm afternoons perched on sun-soaked balconies are over.
Here lies the start of my solistial melancholia.
+++
I am excited about imminent change.
When things fall through this is all you can look forward to.
+++
With a firm hold on horse-pride and repose
I battle with happiness.
Regret is possible only when admission of err is volunteered.
Still I string along.
+++
I struggle to gather memories from my childhood.
It kills me that most things pre-kinder have been lost.
I remember tantrums while writing a page full of I's;
The big orange buttons on my cotton dress;
Charcoal sketches of trains mounted on red frames.
+++
I've chosen to stand by certain commitments, and deny others.
When the height of winter knocks
I will have a better idea.
+++

The marigolds are wilting.
Yesterday morning I sat with the dog,
Coffee and notebook by side.
Juggling intentions of the beach, afternoon cocktails, malevolence, and last night's words,
I settled quite happily on a symbiotic brew.
~
There is great relief* in lashing out.
*not resolution - angry words seldom fix problems.
After I'd spoken my mind
I slept with infantile ease.
~
The figs are finally plump,
Almost two months too late.
When I woke up this morning
All I saw was dreary grey.
~
I've been listening to girlish-petticoat crap again.
Alternating between Lisa Loeb and Norah Jones,
I fear I am sinking into the abyss of singalong melodies and whimsical lyrics.
~

A morning out in the backyard
Crosslegged on teak bench.
Today I chose the travel pages over employment or news.
Sun on my back,
Coy breeze teasing my morning flyaways.
I think of:
The sound of syncopated castanets,
Red plastic bowls filled with grapes, skinned, halved, seeded.
~
I whinge about having lost summer,
But the new freckles on my nose prove otherwise.
The orchids have stopped flowering;
The trees preparing for autumnal peak.
It's as if summer ended on an open cadence-
And is still fighting for a classical resolution.
~
By the time my last g&t hit
And I sat up to counter the rocking,
My edifice of social gratification had been altered.
The realisation of lonliness is a terrifying experience,
And is most likely to grip you when you're amongst laughing crowds.
~

The day is looking up.
2-1/2 hours from the finish line,
1 hour from champagne-o'clock.
At 11 this morning I sneaked out with the boss to go shopping.
2 hours later I emerged from the Hugo Boss outlet with
* Maroon wool trilby - 1 of
* Ink military style jacket with waist belt - 1 of
* Dark olive silk top with tie-around waist straps - 1 of
Hugo Boss Sample Sale on at 6 Albert St, Preston, Friday 26/03 10am - 7pm, Saturday 27/03 10am - 4pm.

Fuck it.

I've booked my flight and put in my leave dates for signing.
I've made an appointment for a hair cut.
I've replaced chinese red toe nails with blood plum instead.
I've packed old things into trash bags, ready for April 11th.
I've decided to obliterate certain fights and causes, and take on others.
Today between wasting an entire morning and having post-lunch cigarettes, I finally enunciated the need for change.

I feel like I haven't slept at all.
I'm indecisive. And vague.
Last night I'd thought a few g&t's would put out the fire in me.
Instead I found myself drained but still burning for a fight.
I made it to the driveway, then pullled out again.
The stairway light had been left on - it was the Men's Club Tuesday night carousal.
I drove to the weekly venue, circled the car park.
Of course the black Subaru was nowhere in sight.
Questioning the motive in such a meaningless exercise-
(1) Everything is a means to the desired end;
(2) The end is as likely to be logical, as it is irrational;
(3) The course of action is always calculated.
The last time I spun around like a broken ferris wheel,
A thousand hypotheses, designs, conjectures, flung at frantic freefall.
This time I dismissed the hissing vengeance.
And allowed in its place a sense of quiet calm.
~
Last night I dreamt that I fell asleep at the wheel while taking the bend from Hoddle St onto the Eastern Freeway.
In stubborn drowsiness I panicked when I felt my car leave the road surface.
Battling heavy eyelids and uncooperative response mechanisms
I choked on fear and helplessness.
In apparent perfunctory haphazardness the car landed back on the road,
And off I drove, still reeling from shock.
~
Sat in the sun at lunch,
On prickly dry grass, amongst dormant magnolia trees.
Pushing twigs into the ground
We talked about white picket fences and hanging up the tarty shoes.
~

Yesterday there was such peace in me.
The day sky, a pure blue.
As the (late) morning sun distilled through sheer curtains,
I knew I wasn't going to let it go to waste.
Morning spent sitting on black granite benchtop with fine bone china mug in hand [Josh Rouse's 1972 playing],
Quizzed by my mother,
Flanked by logic and whim.
In the afternoon I met Miss Chew for a beverage at Cookie.
Feet on chair, cheeks a glowing red from sun and wine,
Heart and mind at such halcyon clemency.
And as I sat on a wooden bench watching the sun play prima donna in the evening,
I wish I'd been at the beach, lying on sand-specked terry and drowsy from sweaty bliss.
~
I am working towards an alignment of truths:
Where rightness collides with function
I will be alright.
~
I was greeted by a caffeine headache this morning (first deprivation of; then excess).
Next week's astrology predictions:
Something that's vital to your happiness, finances or career should have a brilliant finale on Thursday before noon. Somebody could be difficult, too busy, or unreliable on Friday night or Saturday, both of which are unsuitable for any long-range, expensive or intricate endeavours.
Foreknowledge is a curse.
~

Today I walked on the sunny side of the street.
It's almost the weekend and my usual Friday fervour is absent.
The highlight of my work year has been and gone. (see pics)
This time last year I sat on milk crates and warmed exposed toes.
Now I feel like winter has arrived, unannounced and premature.
Between then and now I've verbalised thoughts and had to take them back.
I'm a bag of contradictions-
Of maroon, mint jelly, mustard, poppy red, and pomegranate.
Impatience pervades my life like a majestic Wagnerian leimotif;
Allusive yet vivid, dissonance then resolution.

Six hours to the start of tomorrow
And I lie sleepless.
It's another one of those nights-
Warm, lathered. Like in summer when it gets too sultry to have skin against cotton sheets.
Kept awake by running lists and inconclusive messages,
Sheer frustration struck like caffeine drops.
~
I feel like I've missed out on the best of summer.
Days when the sun was a blazing shade of tangerine
I've sat surrounded by bricks and overgrowth.
Now the leaves are starting to turn a brilliant amber
And I want to play.
~

I have a shopping problem.
Beween picking up samples at The Sofitel and the haberdashery section of Lincraft
I managed to buy a pair of Marc Jacobs.
4-1/2 inch, black peep-toe number with satin bows.
Very pretty. And judging from the amount of walking I did today (from NGV to Myer Bourke St), very wearable.
I will not justify the purchase here,
But I really needed a new pair of black shoes.
*
Went to the Guy Bourdin exhibition hosted by Vogue. Glorious day to be outside, with champagne and tweed capris. Nobody smokes at these events anymore. It's as if smoking has been given the big "Has Been" and is to be forever banished from the fashion circle. I don't know how to cope really, since nobody really eats at these events either. And quite frankly, I'm going to grow tired of talking about Scarlett Johansson as Calvin's new face, how great I thought Lost in Translation was, no I haven't seen Girl with the Pearl Earring, etc. It was still a pleasant event - short, small, thoughtful.
*
I realise I've been drifting away from my usual writing. I also realise I'm beginning to sound like a typical industry blondie. Stop if it's excruciating.
*
I need to now go have my shower and prepare tomorrow's outfit.
Nite.
*

I'm waiting for hat weather.
Twice in the past week it looked almost cool enough outside,
Then the sun bulldozed its way through,
Leaving the eager hat on the car seat after a meagre 5 minute cameo.
I'd like to buy a new hat for winter.
Somewhat like this beauty.
*
Today I took mum out for lunch.
We swapped Shanghainese at David's for Japanese at Aka Tombo.
I haven't had sashimi since the last time I ate there -
I refuse to be disappointed.
He asked if I'd been away, because it'd been so long since my last meal there.
There was godlike fruition in the experience - the comfort of familiarity, from music, smells, garnish, and quiet smiles.
*
She laughs at the games people play.
She used to express mocking fascination at how the dog always displayed diehard preference for its playmates' tennis ball, raw hide chew sticks, even bowl of water.
There is curious allure in what others want-
Because the item of contest has already been presented with laurels of interest.
*
We had lunch yesterday - past morning glory-twined power lines, all-you-can- eat-curry signs.
The laboriously sobering effect of work-stress and daylight can sometimes kill conversations.
Nevertheless we laughed about astrological incompatibilities.
*

Today I'm dirty pink and dusted cocoa.
Feet bound in insensible vintage Armani I stroll down the street.
Down the shit-pebbled pavement, past cafes, keeping the sun on my shoulders.
If only everyday was like today - cloudless, breezy, happy.
*
The days, seamlessly truncated by mechanisms of nature,
Have kept me muted.
I've waited, then stalled;
Laughed, then sneered.
I missed the delight of magnolias.
I miss the tastes of leisure summers - salt, beer, watermelon.
*
The day draws near.
I fret, but I know it'll never be right.
*
Craving the pampering luxury of Akira's meals.
Sake. Taco. Unagi Sushi. A few laughs.
*
I should stop drinking on school nights.
Yesterday I had champagne at lunch, then a nice cab/sav. at dinner.
There's unexplainable pleasure in the first sips.
*

To whom it may concern:

(1) I've deleted/edited most entries with defamatory connotations.
(2) If you look to the right side (bottom if your monitor is small), under 'More of Me', you'll find a link to my gallery. Click.
(3) We agreed not to visit Ex-files (so stop reading now)
(4) You can get back to work now (and I'll ring you later, promise).

******

It's past my bedtime, but at least it's past hump day.
Glossary note: hump day = Wednesday; like in getting past the worst half of the week.
The good thing about long weekends is that there's one less work day to plough through.

xxNitexx

I must not chase boys.
I must not chase boys.
I must not chase boys.

Now who wants to print me the t-shirt?

I miss Mikey.
xoxo

It's 2.24 on a Tuesday afternoon.
32 degrees outside, 16 fucking degrees inside.
And it's not even hump day yet.
I'm in need of a drink.

Sunday: I swore I wouldn't buy anything, but ended up with a Paul & Joe black silk dress, and black silk camisole with lace trim. Yikes. To alleviate the guilt, I bought my nephew a chocolate Easter bunny.

Currently liking:
+Ryan Adams' I See Monsters
+Fridays
+Linen-textured paper

Craving:
+Karaoke

Need:
+Calcium and exercise

Could cut down on:
-Cigarettes
-Black

Scouting:
+Long weekend plans
+Underwear parade music

Planning:
+Holiday in June