fifteen

when i was with them (a nameless love of mine), they didnt feel fifteen.

they felt older and lovable, making it impossible for me to fathom the immaturity that showed itself at times. i thought fifteen was something – it was my fault for thinking that everyone should have their life together by fifteen.

i felt mature when i was fifteen and it’s only now, with time and perspective, that i realise how i was the pathetic one and they were just as a fifteen year old should have been.

i always expected so much – look a certain way, behave a certain way, and now that i look back with the luxury of hindsight, i wish i had loved them for who they were because fifteen is all that doesn’t last…

you’re ~supposed~ to be growing out of your childhood clothes before replacing them at fifteen, your mum is ~supposed~ to buy your underwear at fifteen, you’re ~supposed~ to find stupid things funny at fifteen. fifteen is comically young. 

oh well, that’s years ago. they are not fifteen anymore. they wear adult’s clothes and fragrance now, but they are all the things i loved, without the beauty of their childhood purity.

and now i wish they were fifteen again.

Advertisements

“hello, motherfucker”

White-eyed Moray Eel. 

the first time i saw an eel was on television at age ten. a man had speared, skinned and prepared a long, thick eel for consumption, proceeding to share its bright white flesh with his family. though the memory has faded, the knowledge i acquired from viewing the program has had a lasting affect.

i have never been repulsed by an animal. i have always been totally appreciative of all creatures, making a special effort to assist house-dwelling insects and spiders in continuing their lives outside. for this reason, it has taken me a long time to admit to my undying fear of eels. i feel weakness surging through me as i admit to girlish frenzy brought about by searching for the image to accompany this piece.

eels are enitrely unnerving and disconcerting. its peek-a-boo face emerges from the darkness behind where you stand, helplessly hindered by the water’s viscosity. ‘hello, motherfucker’, it hisses.

that being said, i still feel compassion for eels. i still love eels because they are a part of nature and an important ecosystem.

a week of mourning 

(image found on tumblr)

i like spring for what it represents in nature, but as for the vibes, it’s not so nice.

winter is my preferred season; with no particular scent or defining features; only the cold, allowing me to cover every inch of skin without feeling uncomfortably warm. winter doesn’t have a definitive end – it’s weeks of uncertainty before you can surely confirm that spring has popped it’s  little head up and out of the garden bed. this week represents days of mourning winter.

today (day one), however, has been a pleasant regression into winter and it’s hazy mystery. im standing in the rain and damn, that sooty smell of the station is nice in this weather. it is overcast, ominous and moist. to compliment the station scent is a slight farmyard odour which I also love. I tend to gravitate towards unpleasant smells on humans and in the environment.

oh well, plenty to do. i am sure I would enjoy today if I didn’t have commitments to conformity. for now…

so, hi

(image from tumblr)

if you know me ‘irl’, you’d know that i would never dream of writing ‘irl’…not even in a blog post. i am a perfectionist – i cant let go of it (perfectionism) at any time; in any conversation, in any artistic endeavor. i drive my self crazy with having to check everything i message or post, one hundred times before i let it go.

as you have been reading, you may have found yourself disagreeing with every word i have written, as thus far, i have failed to use a capital letter, let alone come up with any carefully constructed, awe-inspiring, grammatically perfect material. there’s a reason, there always is; even letting myself be free from perfectionism is done according to a plan. this blog is a no-edit, space – a place for me to allow the submissive and artistic part of me (which begs to be permitted carelessness on occasion) to prevail.

i am a young-ish person, with terrible social skills and an ironic desire to live ‘off the grid’ (i say, as i send this off into the most connected place in the world). i only eat plants (yes, i am fine) and i walk with my bird to places that make us (my bird and i), feel real. i always tell her not to believe anything but the feeling of the soil on her bare feet. she totally agrees with me (she says she doesn’t trust her sister or me, which i am pleased to hear). i kiss plants, hold their hands and hug their strong cellulose stems/trunks. i try to stay out of the sight and out of the minds of other people because i have never really found one with whom i have shared a lasting, mutual fondness.

to accompany this imagining, is a very dreamy song…