La Cienega Just Smiled
And I hold you close
In the back of my mind
Feels so good
But damn it makes me hurt
And I'm too scared to know
How I feel about you now
La cienega just smiled
See ya around
And I hold you close
In the back of my mind
And raise my glass
'Cause either way
I'm dead
Neither of you really help me
To sleep anymore
One breaks my body
And the other breaks my soul
La cienega just smiles
As it waves goodbye
Tuesdays With Marzie
Yesterday I touched on the world of politics with Jerry, the cab driver. It's so refreshing to find a cab driver with something worthwhile to say, who was willing to talk, without having to try - it was much like an e-chat, but with and without substance.
Yesterday I sat through a two hour kareoke session without a drink, a mic or even a cigarette in my hand. Weird. Enough said.
Yesterday I worked my first thirteen-hour day, wired on V's, Milo Bars and Flat White's. I hope my leg will stop shaking before the weekend comes.
Today, I'm trying to remember what I did with yesterday.
Yesterday I touched on the world of politics with Jerry, the cab driver. It's so refreshing to find a cab driver with something worthwhile to say, who was willing to talk, without having to try - it was much like an e-chat, but with and without substance.
Yesterday I sat through a two hour kareoke session without a drink, a mic or even a cigarette in my hand. Weird. Enough said.
Yesterday I worked my first thirteen-hour day, wired on V's, Milo Bars and Flat White's. I hope my leg will stop shaking before the weekend comes.
Today, I'm trying to remember what I did with yesterday.
Vic On The Park
To Josh
Thanks for the concert last night, I had a wonderful time. I've placed your CD at the top of my stack and plan to give it a thorough hearing this upcoming week whilst I commute between home and work.
Although I got to shake your hand and thank you, I felt like I had let something slip. (In hindsight, that previous sentence sounds so wrong.) It had formulated on the drive home when I was replaying the scenario in my head...
I'd like to tell you that I'm very impressed that you'd held a free concert, performed passionately for an intimate gathering and were happy to mingle with every last fan at the bar. It's quite a respectable way of building a fan base that many people with a single on the charts wouldn't do.
Once again, thanks.
Mario
To Josh
Thanks for the concert last night, I had a wonderful time. I've placed your CD at the top of my stack and plan to give it a thorough hearing this upcoming week whilst I commute between home and work.
Although I got to shake your hand and thank you, I felt like I had let something slip. (In hindsight, that previous sentence sounds so wrong.) It had formulated on the drive home when I was replaying the scenario in my head...
I'd like to tell you that I'm very impressed that you'd held a free concert, performed passionately for an intimate gathering and were happy to mingle with every last fan at the bar. It's quite a respectable way of building a fan base that many people with a single on the charts wouldn't do.
Once again, thanks.
Mario
Fucked Up
John Howard: "The withdrawal of troops from Iraq will only invite terrorists..."
Hold the phone...
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ON ABOUT?
John, seriously, mate, are you trying to tell me that the best way to be somebody's friend is to piss them off for no reason? Hell, I should just go out and sleep with my best friend's missus to show the world he is my best friend.
What kind of idiot would believe such stupid logic?
Fair enough we shouldn't be influenced by terrorist fears on policy decisions, but you've already broken that by bending over for Bush Jr.
And you're still doing it...
And what makes you think we've already forgotten all the other bullshit you've spun in the past year?
This is just a new addition to your long list of wrongdoings to Australians.
And the only fools who would agree with you are the same idiots holding their breath for the discovery of NON-EXISTENT WMD'S.
John Howard: "The withdrawal of troops from Iraq will only invite terrorists..."
Hold the phone...
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ON ABOUT?
John, seriously, mate, are you trying to tell me that the best way to be somebody's friend is to piss them off for no reason? Hell, I should just go out and sleep with my best friend's missus to show the world he is my best friend.
What kind of idiot would believe such stupid logic?
Fair enough we shouldn't be influenced by terrorist fears on policy decisions, but you've already broken that by bending over for Bush Jr.
And you're still doing it...
And what makes you think we've already forgotten all the other bullshit you've spun in the past year?
This is just a new addition to your long list of wrongdoings to Australians.
And the only fools who would agree with you are the same idiots holding their breath for the discovery of NON-EXISTENT WMD'S.
On Moments
The Sister
I've noticed that I've let so many things slip through me whilst I'd been dancing circles on my life. In a beautiful performance to raise money for underprivelaged children, I was so proud to see my sister compose and sing the prefect song for her school. I know that it was most likely inspired by an argument she had with my parents, and since then she had been busy at nights, searching for the right notes to strike whilst I was asleep. With that one performance I felt I was under seige from a barrage of memories and thoughts, but nothing more striking than guilt - that throughout our lives I'd never really supported her; that I'd let my jealousy and anger cloud my view of her. Now that I'm sitting here, it's hard to imagine that the burden of expectation had been placed on me because she is the one who has fulfilled them. It's strange to feel so much smaller than a person who looks up to you.
The Engagement Party
She was floating through the crowd in a alcoholic daze, giddy from the Illusions and every bottle of beer that she happened to pass - but she was happy. She danced a little jig in front of her cousin with a camcorder and asked that the camera not be fooled by the rock that she had got, for she was still Jenny from the block. Her performance was accepted warmly with smiles, knee-slapping laughter and raised glasses.
I turned to view the setting - a backyard patio with an abundance of beautifully prepared food and a crowd of strangers whose spirits were high despite the unfavourable weather. The cake cutting, the kareoke singing, the small gifts next to the umbrellas at the front door, the early leavers and the late comers, the flash of digital cameras, the plastic cutlery and the terrible impromptou speeches were all in surprising cohesion - like a song writing itself. I turn to D as she softly put her head down on my shoulder.
It was quite a beautiful evening.
The Rain
I'm growing more and more attached to my desk at work. It's as if I'd found a refuge from interruptions the rest of this world is willing to throw my way; an allowance for room to think and breathe freely. This sunday afternoon is slowly passing by, and although I should be finalising all the loose ends before my move away from home, I can't help but sit down, watch the rain streak down my level 17 window and search my head for the right words on moments.
The Sister
I've noticed that I've let so many things slip through me whilst I'd been dancing circles on my life. In a beautiful performance to raise money for underprivelaged children, I was so proud to see my sister compose and sing the prefect song for her school. I know that it was most likely inspired by an argument she had with my parents, and since then she had been busy at nights, searching for the right notes to strike whilst I was asleep. With that one performance I felt I was under seige from a barrage of memories and thoughts, but nothing more striking than guilt - that throughout our lives I'd never really supported her; that I'd let my jealousy and anger cloud my view of her. Now that I'm sitting here, it's hard to imagine that the burden of expectation had been placed on me because she is the one who has fulfilled them. It's strange to feel so much smaller than a person who looks up to you.
The Engagement Party
She was floating through the crowd in a alcoholic daze, giddy from the Illusions and every bottle of beer that she happened to pass - but she was happy. She danced a little jig in front of her cousin with a camcorder and asked that the camera not be fooled by the rock that she had got, for she was still Jenny from the block. Her performance was accepted warmly with smiles, knee-slapping laughter and raised glasses.
I turned to view the setting - a backyard patio with an abundance of beautifully prepared food and a crowd of strangers whose spirits were high despite the unfavourable weather. The cake cutting, the kareoke singing, the small gifts next to the umbrellas at the front door, the early leavers and the late comers, the flash of digital cameras, the plastic cutlery and the terrible impromptou speeches were all in surprising cohesion - like a song writing itself. I turn to D as she softly put her head down on my shoulder.
It was quite a beautiful evening.
The Rain
I'm growing more and more attached to my desk at work. It's as if I'd found a refuge from interruptions the rest of this world is willing to throw my way; an allowance for room to think and breathe freely. This sunday afternoon is slowly passing by, and although I should be finalising all the loose ends before my move away from home, I can't help but sit down, watch the rain streak down my level 17 window and search my head for the right words on moments.
Work Work
It's 6:11PM on a Thursday night and I am the last zealot left from my sector.
(Maybe I should have posted a memo this morning, reading - It's 7:45AM on a Thursday day and I am the first zealot to be seated at his desk... - then I could have promoted the deeply cylical nature of my working life and given myself a condescending pat on the back for such a lame attempt at writing with deep undercurrents.)
Anyway...
It's strange, however, that I'm finding a sense of comfort in the fact that I can now wake up in the morning knowing exactly what to do and the rediscovering of the feeling of satisfaction when I'm exhausted, collapsed on a backward-facing train seat.
How long can this honeymoon period last until the marriage to work begins to divorce me from my senses?
It's 6:11PM on a Thursday night and I am the last zealot left from my sector.
(Maybe I should have posted a memo this morning, reading - It's 7:45AM on a Thursday day and I am the first zealot to be seated at his desk... - then I could have promoted the deeply cylical nature of my working life and given myself a condescending pat on the back for such a lame attempt at writing with deep undercurrents.)
Anyway...
It's strange, however, that I'm finding a sense of comfort in the fact that I can now wake up in the morning knowing exactly what to do and the rediscovering of the feeling of satisfaction when I'm exhausted, collapsed on a backward-facing train seat.
How long can this honeymoon period last until the marriage to work begins to divorce me from my senses?
On Credit
Today I'm going to execute my first credit transaction using my first credit card.
I'm hoping to find something of grand significance to mark such an occasion, something fitting to meaningless and irresponsible consumption. This follows in the footsteps of my 23-year-old tradition of coupling rites of responsibility with trademark irresponsibility.
God only knows what stupid thing I'll end up doing if I ever marry.
Today I'm going to execute my first credit transaction using my first credit card.
I'm hoping to find something of grand significance to mark such an occasion, something fitting to meaningless and irresponsible consumption. This follows in the footsteps of my 23-year-old tradition of coupling rites of responsibility with trademark irresponsibility.
God only knows what stupid thing I'll end up doing if I ever marry.
Mr Vertigo
I was out to prove something, I suppose, to stun him into respecting me, to be noticed. This was a new way of fighting back, and every time the master told me to slow down, I felt as if I had won a victory, as if I were gradually regaining possession of my soul. - Paul Auster, Mr Vertigo
The smallest achievements are bringing me the most overwhelming sensations and the momentum it has created is addictive, continually fuelling new fire in the blood running through my veins.
And it is at this moment I begin to wonder - this may be what flying feels like.
I was out to prove something, I suppose, to stun him into respecting me, to be noticed. This was a new way of fighting back, and every time the master told me to slow down, I felt as if I had won a victory, as if I were gradually regaining possession of my soul. - Paul Auster, Mr Vertigo
The smallest achievements are bringing me the most overwhelming sensations and the momentum it has created is addictive, continually fuelling new fire in the blood running through my veins.
And it is at this moment I begin to wonder - this may be what flying feels like.
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