Liberated, but from what?
Did we escape from the grinding heel of colonialism, only to find ourselves tethered for eternity to a yoke of cringing servitude?
Flight is the one true escape - it is the only recourse left.
…..were enough to unsheath my claws.
Tonight, I realised I could be as catty as the best of them.
Tonight, I was so petty, I wouldn’t have looked out of place running with the small-minded mob.
Straight from the horse’s mouth:
In high school, she was known for being one of the first ‘good’ girls we knew to do ‘it’.
And for her looks.
For God’s sake, see where it got her.
Getting married in bad makeup, that’s where.
*Meee-oooow*
I know, i know, the vitriol took me by surprise too.
I’m going to plead a temporary lapse of sanity due to fatigue and sleep deprivation.
It’s an excuse, and I’m sticking to it.
ps: LRTs and PMS make for excellent excuses as well, hey Joyce? =)
I can dissect a cadaver.
I can write a press release.
I can perform a manual muscle test.
But for the life of me, I cannot apply makeup.
Why, oh, why am I such a failure at being a female?
Found in the September - December Program Guide of The Judith Wright Centre of Contemporary Arts:
Grey Water (Visual Arts)
Hits of the show include….Teresa Margolies’ installation of soap bubbles, made from water used to wash down corpses in a Mexican morgue.
Can you imagine trying to get vats upon vats of corpse-infused H2O past the Australian Customs checkpoints?
Eek.
Just remember: It will always destroy everything that comes after.
Because once you’ve known it, when you’ve had it and held it and weighed its realness, its egg-warm solidity in the palm of your hand, nothing else will ever suffice.
It is why you’ll always be searching for the same sweet, sad refrain in every punctuated bar of a life lived in stops and starts. But always, always, always it will remain a maddening half-beat behind, maddeningly out of fingertip-grazing reach.
I remember.
But remembrance does nothing to lighten the shadows. It does not warm one in the dead of winter. It cannot dispel the pain.
What if remembrance is all you have, to have and to hold?
Or almost.
For I was one of the many, felled by the scourge that shall henceforth be known as Brisbane’s Largest Flu Epidemic Ever.
Felled, but not fallen.
Although past the I-so-wish-I-was-dead stage, I am still alluringly dribble-y and multifariously snot-spackled enough to appear infectious to other, unsuspecting mortals.
I’ll be back - sooner rather than later I hope.
At present, having to read large chunks of text has the unfortunate side-effect of making me want to hurl.
This, I believe, has something to do with the side-to-side scanning movements required of the eyes when ingesting text.
However, since this unfortunate effect also has the unbeatable upside of forming a legitimate excuse to dodge the tomes on my weekly reading list, I shall not complain too much at present. Alright, I shall not complain too loudly and too much at present =)
Peace and blogs out.
It’s too cruel, the separation.
Is it wrong to blame this place that gives nothing, but would willingly suckle us dry?
It’s too, too cruel.
Despair then, for everything seems to be nothing by endless cycles of partings and reunions and farewells and rendezvouses and goodbyes.
为 什 么 我 们 不 能 在 同 一 个 地 方 ， 过 自 己 想 过 的 生 活 ？
