overocea: (Default)
what a ridiculous argument. come ON. AS IF THERE'S ANY CONTEST.
please allow me to irrevocably demonstrate through the powers of mspaint:

BAM!

now, you see.
overocea: (Default)
I got a new job as a face-to-face counsellor. do you realise what this means?
no more pink asymmetrical hair.

which further means I MUST to learn to drive before I start work (21st April) so that I can have pink asymmetrical hair on my driver's license. but I don't really think it is very likely because... I haven't actually ever driven before except one time when I was 16, oh but I rode around a sugar cane field on a moped once and crashed it into a ditch and broke it.

I am 20something(?) and haven't learnt to drive because I disagree with car culture. you know, I get the bus to work every day, and zoom past (on the busway) the parking lot desert of a highway stretching 30?km out of the city and? EVERY SINGLE CAR HAS ONE PERSON IN IT. if cars were outlawed for personal use public transport would rock and there would be much more room for flowers than bitumen and air than carbon monoxide. but secretly also I am scared to drive, and to be in control of a speeding 1500 kilogram hunk of metal. I typed "how much does a car weigh" into google to be able to write that.

also I am going to Cairns on Monday for a couple weeks.
also I am going to Supanova pop culture expo this weekend. HOW GEEKY.
also here is a painting I did several years ago. I can't believe I am even posting it as I find it so very embarrassingly awful:

overocea: (please)
coldcomfort Full time work is a craggy bear of lethargy and indifference, slowly gnawing off my hands. My head functions as usual; my eyes point wonderingly at everything and my voice comes vomiting up and lightning bolts of ideas shoot out of my brain and I make endless plans for wonderous things to do and create and complete. The lightning never gets anywhere... my hands are eaten off before the flashes reach the ends of my arms. My eyes are sliding closed and my voice grows pale with "how may I help you"s.

Limbos of working for short but very constant spurts to pay for the exciting adventures in between, though, is more desirable than steady streams of equal parts life and living. Oh, ugh, I obviously wasn't meant for the dreary lives society has decided. I dream of rolling down hillsides composing odes to visible bodies of very fine water droplets as I go; but too much of even that and my brain would eat itself for lack of sustenance from the world...

It's how I see having roots of any kind. Horrid! My life shall be intense, overflowing, practically drunk! and wildly varying; I will have lived everywhere, been everything, had everyone. So there, there there, it's okay, it will all be okay. I'm here [only for now].
overocea: (dared)
out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
and I eat men like air


so! classes start this week.
...prompting the cessation of thought.

every now and then I become overwhelmed with the desire to cut everyone I know out my life. and everyone I don't. but I think I adore everyone I don't know a little bit more. like when strawberries taste like dust. teeny tiny flakes of skin and dead cockroach.

fairy floss & fairy bread
sulci and gyri
myopic rods and blue cones
prop open my spinal gateway

I am terrified of my own sclera

ain't it funny, that
pale-faced captivation could be
coupled with a bleak mouth, funereal
silence.


like when people on ICQ expect me to answer their black&white "wanna chat?"s

past creations generally have this talent for making me cringe. sometimes I can bring myself to recreate them.



the most adorable thing in the world is a yawning numbat. if you ever see it you'll know instantly why.

I made my nanna a website. get married. it is fun.

I can't pay my rent. I should be slightly concerned. instead I sway and giggle.
modest mouse make me smile.

edit: when Felon stalks geckos and sparrows and houseflies she does this very weird vibratey thing with her mouth. i've never seen any other cat do it (and i've seen lots of stalky cats). I call it rattling. well I shriek it rattling. I mean it fills me with so much glee to see her do it because it's so cute that I scream "she's rattling!!"

anyway? I just learned it has a name, and an evolutionary explanation! I am slightly thrilled.

k, it's 4am, if i'm not asleep within the hour i'll suffocate myself to get there, dammit.
overocea: (i might)
there are a great many things I should be doing.
instead i've spent the past few hours making silly paperdolls. I do not really know why.



and now.. to bed. to sleep, or use it like a trampoline? that is the question.
overocea: (black & white)
i've been going through my old journals, mainly the daily/dazelie, formatting and combining them for print.

it's amazing, what's come out of my head. I don't feel capable of the things i've created.. but I remember creating them.
I need to remember that every past me is me yet.



it is my birthday today.
no plans. I ordered everyone to leave me alone so I could work on my essay(s). but you know what? now I don't wanna. so I won't. nyah.

in other news, this is Luna, grouchy hobgoblin kitten:


um..
is it cruel to remain friends with someone who is in love with you?

rich text

Apr. 9th, 2006 10:41 pm
overocea: (follow my fishie)
the last few days i've been blackly low, interspersed with flashes of improbable high. I don't understand why.

Thursday: got drunk & played scrabble.

Friday: spent the day wandering the city, spending money with a shovel & spade. i've a definite city-routine: starting at the myer centre I have sushi train, go sit out in the mall to watch and/or photograph people, wander the streets a bit, shoppe (1. book shoppes, 2. toy shoppes, 3. second-hand shoppes, 4. music shoppes, 5. possible ankle-length skirt shoppes), procure a) a boost juice or b) a starbuck & safari the botanical gardens till I find a nice splay-spot where I a) read, b) write or c) watch people some more. I then walk to south bank where if i'm not exhausted I visit a) the museum, b) the art gallery, c) the library and/or d) the markets (if it's a weekend) after which I will be exhausted so buss home.

Saturday: made Dennis take me garage saling, yay! it's amazing how many garage sales there are in my area Saturday mornings.. just driving random suburban streets you'll pass dozens. I bought a rather cute "nursery wardrobe" for $20. previously my clothes had been hanging from a broomstick wedged up in the bedroom-corner. well, some of them. the rest were in three other wardrobes. ahem.

Sunday: on previous days i'd woken as usually vivrely.. i'm usually motivated in the morning & full of wonderous plans. today, however I woke low, & stayed low. spent the day moping & avoiding interaction. but! did get my mannequin base-coated:

XD


now just need to decide how to colour her..

& went to see ice age 2, which entertained me, but not so well as th first one. & oh, I need to see march of the penguins.

vagina.

Oct. 26th, 2004 07:53 pm
overocea: (i'm an unbutterflie girl)
finally decorated my last bare wall:


it's never too late to say never.

emeny

Mar. 22nd, 2004 11:07 pm
overocea: (can_t sleep)
DO ME SOME GOOD.
aces covered

twitch and twitter. i could be dead and drunk and you'd never know. i'm reading stephen king, peeking over the person in front's shoulder. i'm really just really tired, flamboyantly so, resplendent.

i'm back from the gold coast today. wow, is my extended family ever worthy of phrenetic slaughter. stonewalled, take a swipe, watching the sun arc wildly over my head, waste it, take aim, if it was coming up from behind golden-lined-you I wouldn't say, if I was undercovered. oh, boy, that's the question, each time i come i'll ask again.

better me than you.
overocea: (Default)
it doesn't have to be pleasant, it just has to be new.

fl-ow

limbless with tralala eyes
cold like needles to the marrow
blah blah.
overocea: (can you hear them)
i'm in a shoebox-shaped room lit by TV fuzz
green walls (dinted, scarred, peeling)
wooden floor (cigarette burns and unidentifiable stains)
red couch (sagging, smells like semen and bile)
6 ex-bourbon bottle candleholders (crumbling wax and spiderspit)
the air is secondhand smoke and dust motes (mites?)

my insides are scraped purple raw (no more, please no more!)
my mouth has been stretched as far as it will go (now limp and dragging, gagging)
i've peeled my fingers to the bone (hoping they were keys)



my eyes are filled with sugar and teeth
and vodka, because I forget everything bad and add exclamations to all my words and would embrace every passerby
(everything is 8octaves higher, 8seconds faster, 8degrees hotter)
overocea: (Default)
I hate unbent knees. unbent knees are the ugliest piece of human.

it feels very strange to read the writings, or look at the paintings, or hear the music of a dead person, to me, because it feels as though it is being created right as I am reading or seeing or hearing it, even if it's for the thousandth time, and nothing can be created by a dead person, so they mustn't really be dead. however it also feels very strange to read the writings, look at the paintings or hear the music of a person who is still alive, and is far away in another country, sleeping or eating chinese food, or at the theatre or the beach or kissing their mother goodbye.

yeah so

I need to learn Latin just so I can read Ovid minus the ghastly translations:
But when good Saturn, banish'd from above,
Was driv'n to Hell, the world was under Jove.
overocea: (Default)
am I predictable? lol

I was half asleep & reasonably sure it was 100% dream, because it just doesn't seem something I would say:
the longer i'm not touched, the more my flesh shrivels and burns, blackening ash and blows away, until someone finally does and my droughted skin absorbs them, grows flesher and blooded, so that they are the one shrivelling black ash and glittering away.

& I should've been studying, but since I knew every answer I consider this magic:
embrangle

lookie.

May. 14th, 2003 09:04 pm
overocea: (Default)
this is my ©bot.
I made him at potatoland.
you should make one too.
it is big funn.
overocea: (Default)
it really wasn't supposed to be attacking her at all.. but embracing! that's what dozens of arms are for!
if I start to go mad.. I hope someone will tell me.

1. supercilious. far away from you. for a reason.
2. indifferent. any one will only knock at my door so many times before giving up & going a way to knock on some one else's.
3. purposely distracted. novels, movies, restaurants, vodka, reruns, study, sleep, a million kinds of pills.

won't taunt people with each other.
[will not cry in public//less chance of illness]

instead of writing my essay I drank a bottle of vodka & woke up to this in my notepad, minus about 99% because geez, the stuff you write when drunk:
first thoughts
trying to think of names
florence, venice, rome
I would go to Alexandria of all places if I had to choose right now
but I haven't been to enough to choose where i'd retire

about ten years/days ago i'd been crying. I can't remember why. but I was all alone, and cats don't know when you're sad even if stuffed spiders do, because stuffed spiders can't move or speak but they can blink once in a black & blue moon, just to let you know that if you happen to cry one day they'll know, and you're free to smother & drown them. when he knocked at the door everything that'd been on his face a second ago fell off it and the first thing he said was "are you okay?" but he didn't ask what was wrong, even when I didn't answer, he just kissed my face a million times, & all that was in my head was "sorry." ten minutes later, travelling behind two beams of light slower than they were every time i'd go to speak all that'd come out was a breath, & then a whole heap of them at once so I couldn't breathe at all

by the way. i'm sick of shampoo. want real poo.
[the universe is shaped exactly like the earth]

& it rather pisses me off when stupid australians & americans say "i'm never going to have a baby, 'cause the world's overpopulated anyway," & then use starving ethiopians as an example. but you stupid twits don't know what you're talking about, 'cause your population is declining. DECLINING. not having a baby isn't going to mean some starving ethiopian baby is going to get your nonexistent baby's share of overly artificially sweetened & gruesomely coloured cereal. so unless you're going to adopt a starving ethiopian baby, shut up.
if I was sober i'm sure i'd have a worthwhile argument. or no argument at all. I don't recall ever having arguments while sober.

this is an afterthought:
fucking people over
overocea: (Default)
i'd look at the calendar & see "psych exam" written on it & think: it's okay, got a whole week to study yet.
then, a day before the exam, I thought: it's okay, got all of tomorrow morning to study.
so I woke up at 8am this morning & started studying, absorbed a horrendously huge amount of information in four hours, & now the exam is over.
I feel like I should be more relieved. & do you know what else? I have a 5 day weekend. 5 days, baby.
although I do have 3 papers due within the next 2or3 weeks, & haven't started any of them, but it's okay, 'cause I have 2or3 weeks to start yet.



people-said things today, minus the haircut related ones:

library boy: hey, do you know where the psychology journals are?
me: no.
library boy: oh. I saw you over there and so thought you must be after them.
me: no. I was after Other journals.
library boy: oh.

library lady: excuse me, but can you stop doing that? the flash is probably disturbing people.
me: can I take your picture?
library lady: no. no more pictures, okay?
me: okay.
(I was bored. obviously.)

refectory girl, to counter boy: can I get a sausage roll?
counter boy, to refectory girl: yeah, but next time get it yourself. they're self serve.
refectory girl, to me, next in line: oh, does that open up at the front?
me: yes.
refectory girl, embarrassed: you can tell I come here often, huh?
me: polite chuckles.

denise, in psychology tutorial: how many points did you put?
me: 5.
denise: really? wow. I think only, like, two people put 5.
me: yeah. I figured everyone else would get greedy.
denise: laughs.
(regarding a social dilemma ballot. if 4 or less people put 15 points and everyone else puts 5 points, everyone gets their chosen points. if more than 4 people put 15 points, no one gets any points. no one got any points.)

computer lab girl: hi, is anyone using this? (the computer next to the one I was on.)
me: no, I don't think so.

bus stop boy: looking forward to the weekend?
me: it starts now, so I don't have to.
bus stop boy: oh, yeah, if you're waiting for the bus I guess that's true.
me: I just had an exam..
bus stop boy interrupts me: uh, yeah. I think I was there.
me: oh. you take psychology?
bus stop boy: yes, and, um, i'm in your tutorial. I even know your name.
me: oh. sorry. I never remember anyone.
*brief silence*
bus stop boy: are you waiting for the city bus?
me: no. but it went already.
bus stop boy: oh, shit!
me: laughs.

I think the above constitutes everything i've said aloud to-day.
heavenly creatures is a darling movie.
overocea: (Default)
i will tell you my mind
just thinking of all the lonely people is enough. you have to remember that everyone wants more ..
overocea: (Default)
pretend to be the moon

DEATH
ANGER
SHAME
AGONY
WRATH


entitled, of course, le cadavre exquis boira le vin nouveau:

the exquisite corpse will drink the young wine

how many years of great make up for a month of hideous, then? hmm. hmm.

what should I be, compared to who I am?
compare your ideal self with your actual self
& see which way you eliminate the descrepancies

incremental incidents

no subject

Mar. 25th, 2003 07:02 pm
overocea: (Default)
I know my right wing from wrong

march

chortle
overocea: (Default)
the wind is talking to the flowers
wrap my arms around you like bandages,
hundred times tip to toe the length of you.
you'll never see anything again but my skin


I intuitively expect...
*exasperates*

I can't help it, I'm a dread-head;
breaking my neck.

beautiful wonderful.

& a bagillion love poems & background music & plums in the sun/shade/water/glass &
lamenting children.


mend the pieces

oh yeah, one more thing.
MY THROAT IS A MESS OF PULSATING, VIOLENTLY RED AGONY SHREDS.
haha

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