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Polly
28 September 2008 @ 09:32 pm
I am finding my words stilted when I try to enunciate anything.
I have had an unexpected, surprisingly lovely weekend. I drank and laughed with old friends on Saturday night, was surprised by a long lost voice on the other end of the phone, and finally stopped moping and chain smoking long enough to paint. All is ok. But for now, I just think everyone needs a little Derek Walcott in their lives. I will get here, soon...


The time will come when,
with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say sit here, eat.
You will love again the stranger who was yourself.
Give wine, give bread, give back your heart to itself.
To the stranger who has loved you all your life,
whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
 
 
Current Mood: thoughtfulthoughtful
 
 
Polly
19 May 2008 @ 03:07 pm
Old plan: Spend quality time with self, pondering the meaning of life and taking a long shot at sanity.

New plan: Watch Golden Girls.
 
 
Polly
19 November 2007 @ 05:50 pm
I am back in limbo. And I guess I am just rolling with it. On Thursday, after weeks no months of anticipation, I finally left my job. Wednesday night was our going away party - A night of curry and bucket punch and about 15 of our closest friends. It was such a beautiful night, and a very calming way to spend one of my last nights in Brisbane - at least for a few months. Thursday was a late start, so we cleaned the house and I finally got enough momentum to get dressed and get to work by eleven. It was such a surreal day. That place - as much as I have resented the mundane aspects of capitalism, the boring repetition on my duties - has been my security, my comfort zone.
And then it's all about him. The messy, ugly, secret relationship. All that innuendo, forbidden encounters and stupid promises. I thought it was the end.
But that's best kept for another cryptic, dramatic rant.
So I was bought a carton of beer, and thai and donuts and cards.
And then at 5:30, when everyone left, when the hugging and the well wishes had come to a close; I was alone.
I sat in my chair for the last time, and looked at the city as I finished my fourth beer. I spoke to the customers that I could tolerate, packed up my desk and called a cab.
Mitch came over and cooked Jen and I dinner. I packed and we ate fantastic food and drank wine. Said our last goodbyes. Slept in my bed for the last night for a while. On Friday, we drove 6 and a half hours and finally, we are here. I am home. I am a nomad - of no address and in transit. In three days I will be in Taipei, and then Vietnam.
And I am sitting here. Sick with a chest infection and confused from running into my past in a parking lot.
I should be packing but I am busy; thinking, just thinking.
 
 
Polly
26 September 2007 @ 04:35 pm
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

I do it because I learned from you.
 
 
Polly
30 August 2007 @ 07:30 pm
I just realised...
I think he may have actually broken my heart.
Fuck.
Ha there you go...
 
 
 
Polly
28 August 2007 @ 06:49 pm
Firstly, Regina Spektor, stop covering John Lennon's "Real Love". It doesn't help at all!

My thoughts are pretty much limited to a weird mesh of some unknown electronica playing on jjj, and Telstra hold music - Because that's all I can hear. In more inspiring news, I gave a deposit for my Asia airfare to a very happy travel agent this morning. The official date of departure is now November 21st, with a layover in Taiwan of all places. We changes our plans a little and are flying directly into Vietnam now, it just works out better with timing, because we'll go from there to Cambodia and so goes the beginning of our adventure.

And that's all I can bear, all i care to think of, right now.
 
 
Polly
12 August 2007 @ 10:29 am
The air is heating up much too quickly considering it's still August. I'm sure Al Gore would have plenty to say about that. I, however, am not adverse to the warmer weather. Yesterday I dragged myself from my bed in a state of hangover delirium. I walked through the house, Jenna all blurry and cleaning and much too awake for a Saturday morning. I collapsed on the mattress is the sun in the yard. Alternated between my sunny place of rest and the cave where my bed is kept. Jenna knocked on my door at 12 and I finally conjured the ability to stand upright, no longer condemned to being horizontal by the alcohol pulsing through my veins. I showered and we put on summer dresses but refused to shave my legs in case i jinxed the prospect of impending summer. We drove to a mountain and to a park with Nathan and an ipod that played bad pop songs. Had a picnic of sandwiches and biscuits made by Jenna. Smoked a joint and looked at the ducks. marveled at water moving by itself? Made friends with a little boy in gumboots. Considered stealing said gumboots. At home we turned into 5 year olds and tackled each other, locked each other out, ran around the house and screamed. Nathan went to work, to serve alcohol to Brisbanites and Jenna and i walked around the house in our underwear for a long time, deliberating about what to wear to Pepe's - the Mexican restaurant we seem to have moved into. How better to spend a Saturday night then at a tacky Mexican place with huge plates of enchiladas and sangria? So usually there would be sangria, if the thought of alcohol didn't make me want to regurgitate my insides. We listened to Lauryn Hill and lay like giant Mexican-stuffed porpoises on my bed, looking at the ceiling and indulging in hypotheticals. And today is a beautiful day, but I am here at work where there is no work to be done.
And I should mention, le passport is on its way to me and my bank account is looking quite prepared: On the 20th of November my feet leave Australian ground.
 
 
Polly
25 May 2007 @ 12:23 pm
I am a user, Livejournal. I visit and view you though primarily neglect you. I get your hopes up by entering you and clicking on stuff and then bam, i leave without a word written; except of course when i'm going so fricken nuts that nonsensical ramblings to strangers is my only salvation. The last few consecutive posts have been consecutive angst sessions about my inability to be a normal emotionally stable human being. About secret relationships and bathroom promises. About subsequent endings. I was musing this morning, while lying in the twilight with someone else's flesh pressed against mine. I was musing about endings, beginnings, and that undefinable limbo place that disguises itself as healing, though is only a reprieve. I think maybe you haven't actually ended a relationship with someone until you've started one with someone else. Until you've replaced the texture of their skin with the texture of some other skin on some other body, holding in some other bones and flesh and blood and thoughts and love. And if this is the case, can we ever have a beginning without an accompanying ending? Are we forever prisoners in our own limitless centrifuge of one continuous cycle? And with all of this, the crux of it comes down to one thing: If this feeling is unique to me, and i alone hold these musings; how do i tell him when he asks what i am thinking about, under the covers in the hours between dark and light, that the answer is you?
 
 
Current Mood: confusedconfused
 
 
Polly
07 January 2007 @ 10:54 am
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads
But they're just old light, they're just old light
Your hair was long when we first met.

Ah everything has to end, yes?
Whatever. These days it really has to be whatever, or nothing.
 
 
Current Mood: blankresigned
Current Music: Angus and Julia Stone - Private Lawns
 
 
Polly
05 July 2006 @ 10:18 pm
I could list 20 reasons why i'm old. But i probably only need to gsay that it's 10.19pm and i'm drunk on red wine, and close to slumber.
Oh, and if that's not enough of a reason..
This was the night i wanted to have.
I feel more when i'm slightly intoxicated.
So, here's the short list.
Surprised.
Jealous.
Nostalgic.
Affectionate.
Jealous, did i mention suriprised?
Oh and did i mention drunk?