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pas une pipe;

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mother's day. [14 May 2006|07:50pm]
"Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy." - F. Scott Fitzgerald.

cast iron rubies [13 May 2006|03:42pm]
too many nights on the floor
carving caverns in the sky
make a wish, and wish for death
too many times you've watched this prodigal cry
you are sacrifice

and all i have are broken words
ripped and roaring pride, dizzy throats

meaningless, the wind is cold
i feel so old, i feel so old
take me, take me

cast iron rubies, i know of your love
i am nothing, you are the ocean, you are everything, everything, everything
you are forever everything
thank you

doves. [19 Apr 2006|06:33pm]
it's still enough to wrench tears out of wry, dry eyes. shallowness is a defense mechanism, it's true - we all look for company on cold summer nights. fluidity, talent, glamour, comprehension - comprehension. hahahaha. for someone to just comprehend, it's beyond a welcome arrow through the damn heart. everything is so heavy and it's pressing down against my throat. i hate to cry.

but when your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth as your failure turns non-fiction into fiction, sometimes you can do nothing but. i can't analyze myself anymore and i just want to tear out my hair when i read the truth from my own fingertips. it's not even about desire anymore, fuck, it's not even about looking good or looking bad or standing out or - it's just not, okay? there is nothing and i don't want anything. i just - all i need are - i don't know. i don't. know. i. don't. bloody. know.

there's no room for regret. i feel very broken.

all through the winter. [13 Apr 2006|02:00pm]
last day before a - correction - one week ;[ break.

Héloïse & Abélard.

“And then it seemed to Abélard as if he must escape from the house, and he weighed his career against his love of Héloïse, knowing all the while he must abide with her. Come what might, he must abide.”

“‘Wilt grow tired of waiting?’ she asked. ‘Tired of waiting? How little thou knowest yet about love. A true love never tires of wanes, Héloïse, but is with us always, like our blood, like out breath.’”

“Only this I have strength to say, that this parting cannot be for long; for those who love as we do cannot be parted. We shall always be united in thought, and thought is a great magnet, Héloïse. I have often spoken to thee of reason, now I speak to thee of faith; good-bye.”

take me. [12 Apr 2006|12:50pm]
i have forty minutes before my ride comes. the day feels like fever - it is hot, it is cold, it is lonely. it is slow, it is fast. just one more day, and i will have two weeks to breathe, though i have a sneaking suspicion that they will feel no longer than two days.

last night, i was gearing myself up for another all-nighter. peach coffee and a blueberry muffin - smudges beneath eyes and that annoying, expectant, apprehensive feeling you get when you're a stubborn idiot and insist on cramming everything. haha.

exactly how absolute is truth, really? the very phrase that declares absolute truth to be false - is that phrase itself not intended to be absolute? there's just so much - i'm constantly overwhelmed. my grip on the world has slowly weakened from the faded october evenings and now i feel like i am nothing but a child. i often feel that way, you know. negative? not really. i've had unspoken lessons in acceptance and i know that to openly confess flaws is no loss of dignity.

people bustle past, heading for directions as diverse as their lives. and i sit here on just one of about a hundred public computers and i am hit upside the head with just questions upon questions upon questions. what are you afraid of? what do you want? why? oh God, why? it's repetitive, right? how many times have you heard me pray and how many times - how many times have i tasted veins protruding out of my throat and into my eyes? i feel deformed, i feel malnourished, i honestly - it was true - i honestly feel like every drop of air is burning itself into my skin. i feel this indescribable sensitivity to everything i can't see and i know, i know, i know. and i know nothing.

so if you know all, satisfy me. tell me why and then convince my chest as well as my head. slice up my heart into mathematical equations and sift my death through chemical explanations. tell me why all that logic seems to do is lead to the illogical - why balance has been seized and upthrown and set into irremovable stone. tell me why and then TELL ME that in the end, there is nothing.

it seems the more we know, the less we know.

the most beautiful thing about life is that sometimes?

sometimes, we can do naught but feel.

they say that interpretation is an embodied experience. and that? that, nobody can take away from you.

experience is interpretation, interpretation is belief.

i'd like to remember the scent of faith.

directory. [07 Apr 2006|11:07pm]
"how much do you love me?"
"do you want that in gigaseconds? i'm not sure how to measure that."

as a child, we are taught to clean up the messes we've made. scattered lego all over the living room rug, the jump rope laying prostate in the afternoon sun, the barbie dolls, trying to find solace in the cracks between cushions. and if we ever learnt anything from this, we carry it with us through our preteen years, our tween years, our teen years - and so on and so forth into adulthood.

even now, i grab a paper towel to soak up the coke spilt on counters. i wipe up the tomato slice fallen from my hamburger. clumsy? haha, yeah, maybe. but that's not the point. the point is, we clean and restore the order of things.


what is it, precisely? or, rather: what is it - precisely. with precision and detail, our lives are complex, yet have their own time, space, place, purpose. even decorations have purposes. everything is placed wherever it is for a reason. order is regularity, order is structure. order makes sense. and even in times when order cannot be found, there is a cause. the end, the final, the absolute - it does not waver.

i like to still, somehow, believe in the human race.

i see it every day - the liars, the homeless, the drunkards, the superficial. and then, once in a while, i see the true. the old bus driver who has been smiling at countless faces for centuries now - he still has strength to laugh with strangers and enquire about their day; to charm the older women and entertain the kids. he made my day, that demure thursday morning. or the child with the floppy blonde curls and misshapen mouth - with buck teeth and eyes too innocent. he held a rose with one hand and continued on his way, with acceptance. the chinese immigrant who limps into the university more days than not, wrinkled and determined to fulfill his own dream of education; the woman with such a funny smile that she throws at all sorts of people. it is this diversity, this... this odd light in the strangest places, that gives me the most uncanny sense of hope. i do believe in beauty, i do believe in truth. and hey, guess what?

i do believe in getting up.

for me - well, let's just say i have more faith in others than i do for myself. "hello, this is i, and i have been sinning for a very long time." yes, i do have my own cell phone, cosmetic set, sea of shoes and bags, and sense of right and wrong. i do feel when i've cheated myself and others, and i do grin when i've made somebody's day. but it's like i told a boy trying to find his reflection: there's no price great enough to pay for loss of truth.

doing wrong? it gives you that. ironic, that all you should gain is loss. please - there is no such thing as waiting for the right time when all that cries out is for you to be honest. if you have pain to inevitably inflict on somebody, it only grows as time perculates. and i? i screw up continuously. you know, i don't know when i'll stop. i'll be honest here: beyond the content and the flimsy thoughts of life ending, the warmth in love's words and the music that grates at the beating within my lungs, is so much uncertainty. certainty, uncertainty - it may not matter, but if any two things were completely different, they'd definitely make it to the list. i don't know, i don't know, i don't know when the hell i'll stop screwing up. i don't know when i'll stop being selfish, i just don't know. we are our greatest critic, our most passionate enemy, our most silent friend. i suppose i should trace over my own words with this paper-cut hand of mine, and realize that beating myself up will do nothing unless i act, but it's such a long night. i love, i love.

"did you ever have any.. huge dreams, when you were younger? like something you really wanted to do, when you were "all grown up"?" he told me that he always wanted to be a superhero. i told him, when i was five, i really, really wanted to be a mermaid. "it was the first thing i ever wanted to be, apart from being six, because i was five." he chuckled and when i asked him which superhero, replied with the x-men. "they came on saturday mornings", he informed me. haha. or the ninja turtles. and then as i pressed my cheek against the plush of my seat, and wished that he were so much closer, he said:

the problem with superheros, is that they're either tragic or mutant.


on page one hundred and - yes, three - i quoted yesterday. bennett and royle said:

tragedy resists simple explanation.

"it involves - as aristotle suggestes, more than 2,300 years ago - a paradoxical combination of emotions, at once pity and fear or (as sidney says) 'admiration and commiseratiion.'"

nineteen past midnight, and my salad has been poked and prodded. i woke up so thirsty from dreams of nostalgia, but i can't classify that as a bad thing. in some way, i know we are all connected. i am sorry. i am loved. i love.



i love.

get up, i guess. due for a miracle, the choice still comes back down to us.

grin. [05 Apr 2006|07:38pm]
the piano whispers that somewhere, out there, laced through time and eternity, there is real love.

time is tired. [31 Mar 2006|12:32pm]
neon numbers shift pixels, keeping beat to the movement of the crowd. here, it smells of the new enlightenment - one barely has the capacity to view anyone other than themself as in individual. it is a tête-à-tête of sorts - the crowd is one, and you are one. pile of people that, no matter how the faces change daily, are compacted into a solitary being.

so we remain impersonal, unchanging, changing. within the vicinity of a single train carriage, are odds in a million - what were the chances of those specific people entering the exact same carriage at precisely the same time?

i still can't afford to be sad. i don't regret it. just can't stand to be around anymore.

fatal crash. [27 Mar 2006|11:39am]
so listen;

yesterday, rochelle and i went to the mall. upon ascending the escalator from starbucks to run around and try makeup samples, it dawned upon us both how wonderful expensive underwear really is.

think about it. my favourite panties are a pair of pierre cardin blue silk - and i'd always taken for granted how good they made me feel. yes, even though nobody can see them, it's like this secret knowledge you share with only yourself, and perhaps a select few - i'm wearing gorgeous underwear. you know that if you should die any time soon - if you should be run over by a bus or fall out of a fifth-storey window, you will be able to face the world with confidence and say: it's okay! I HAVE EXPENSIVE UNDERWEAR ON. there is something empowering and secure about knowing you have nothing to hide, even in the hidden.


love, juno.

remind me: [22 Mar 2006|08:46am]
i got an email today. beyond the sender's name and status were the words 'strength.' 'thank you.'

'be well.'

am i well? i don't know. i know i'm fine, yes.

drown in music and find comfort in storm-blown curls. pretty faces have become even more ugly when they are devoid of truth. reality's punch - my ribs are cracked, my fresh growing bright. i can only imagine how many people have dealt head-to-head with pain, how many people walk with experience forging their spines and humility gracing their eyes.

be well.

wisdom was never the amount of certificates tucked under one's belt. wisdom is the strange colour that uses those to impact lives. wisdom, it started with the Creator. if wisdom truly is the application of knowledge, then is this application not manifested throughout situations and, most importantly, situations involving bond? relationships - humans will never be able to grant eternity, but if there is a reason for everything, then there is a purpose for us and the people that have been put in our lives.

i actually believe, that he just might be happy.


be well.

march. [21 Mar 2006|03:28pm]
Like babies want God’s love.

Fever dream – it’s the hottest type of cold, this tired March evening. Gray grace, like doves in the shade – the sky was silent. Chai latte and fawn-coloured napkins. Wooden seats. Umbrellas. Fountain. The morning started out well enough, but maybe the sky was an indication.

“I just really wanna get out of here”, said a boy I’d known for six years.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“I can’t wait to leave this place.”

“I know.”

And hours later he said, pertaining to that which had broken me in a way I never knew was possible: “Tell me all of it – every single detail.” Laughed and replied: “Do you know how much this is going to burn?” I skimmed over his story carefully, carelessly, and felt myself drain.

Just the mention of him leaves the ugliest aftertaste in my mouth.

So when I could no longer laugh at my friend’s teasing, it all gushed out. It started with the person and front of me and ended at the roots of a pine tree. I shouted and I told him to get out of my house and his figure molded into a face I’d memorized over October nights. “If you think I’m so ugly, fine. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m no better than she is. No wonder he ****ing chose her.”

We all fall down.

He sat me and slung an arm around my shoulder. He gave me a tissue. I scoffed at my own tears. He hugged me when I couldn’t speak.

“You use Pantene shampoo.”


“I can smell your hair.”

Friendship can come in the strangest forms.

But you know, maybe it’s true. Maybe she is my equal in every way – maybe I’m no better. Maybe I’m no smarter, prettier, wittier, fun, fascinating, interesting, crazy – maybe she really does have all his love. And if so, there is nothing I can do about it. Should it matter? No. Will I never see him again? Maybe. Is he gone? Yes.

I was curled up on a seat, leaning on a pillow twice as wide as I. My friend – I’ll call him the escapist – he relaxed on the couch ninety degrees from my line of vision and he said “What if he comes back?”

Hahahaha. He won’t. But answered anyway, the same words that had crawled through the receiver one balmy August 1:43 AM.

“I wouldn’t give him another chance to break me.”

In five days, it would have been a month since the crash.

They’ve been together for almost five weeks.

His words, they - “Because I'll be damned, you can think of me as much a liar as you want but I know what I say and when I mean it. I'm not worried about you crying. Let's put it that way.”

I don’t need him. I just wonder where he went, after he disappeared in October.

Wherever he is, I hope he is complete.

trust. [17 Mar 2006|11:20am]
a place called surrender.

i have a weird feeling that the first part of detoxing is almost done.

hold my heart - the letterkillsCollapse )

hey wait, hey don't you know? [13 Mar 2006|04:20pm]
LMFAO @ the ljcut. you guys gotta read that, haha.

i really want to learn how to make my own clothes omg. maybe i will. maybe i'll take up sewing lessons or whatever omg.

billy and i talked today. it was nice. he's doing well.

haha, i am so bludging university tomorrow. and i askdbsakfga really want to make my own clothes AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

hey, i actually feel really awesome. never needed another human being to keep my chin up, haha.

lmfaoxxCollapse )

so. [10 Mar 2006|01:52am]
i really have to go.
he chose her.

the guy a few metres from me swings his feet as he eats and reads. i sit on another picnic table, facing his. he sat behind me on the bus, and i accidentally stepped on his toes. i laughed and said sorry, he laughed and with a french accent said: it's okay! i thought you were a spider. i smiled because as of this year, i love spiders.

searching on the wire for a wire, for a peace of mind.

monica and i were 'studying' today. we bitched out guys for an hour, haha. the guy on the table behind me literally had his nose in a book - she kept laughing so i laughed and we couldn't stop. it was so bad. i almost missed my bus so she ran for me [ i couldn't run in my shoes ] and idk. it's good to laugh, after everything. it really is.

ew, creepy hit-ons. next week i'm wearing a paper bag over my head.

so. um... ahem.Collapse )

if every day could be christmas, [08 Mar 2006|03:51pm]
shirt and underwear on a 374921493 degree summer's day. toast and melted cheese. coke in a beer tumbler with three ice cubes bobbing around. stars strumming in the background. wet hair and apple-scented lotion. it's almost four PM and i think life's doing a pretty damn good job. it always reminds me how humble i should be. how unworthy. how thankful.

confession: i'm invincible,
soon i'll be on a plane,
and i can see through you.

so i'm gonna try.

they say when one cannot handle any more, one laughs.

i just laughed.

tonight, everything is overwhelming. tonight i am drowning in this reverie that just… haha, you can call it pain. i call it amazing, because it’s not just wounds. it’s wounds in this uninterrupted process of healing. it’s the past, it’s the present, it’s the future all swirling and dancing, fingers interlocked and weaving delicate patterns in the air around me. experience is the pattern – our breaths are the loom. i have words like Don’t, Forget, Us – i have phrases like: ‘Antigua draws me in’, ‘Like one of Michelangelo’s creations slathered along the Sistine’, ‘They are not the mark of weakness, but of power’ – i have faint outlines of love letters written while locked out, five AM calls, five hundred messages and complaints hurled overseas while struggling down the sidewalk in three-inch heels. i like knowing that he doesn’t need to love me, but that he always will, in one way or another. the details aren’t really important, and i think – i really think – i’m learning how to fall asleep with my back to this consumer’s paradise and open my eyes to eternity.

trying, that I am.

thank. you. so. much.
thank you so much.

p.s - 22nd of february was world cookie day ;[.

AHAHAHAHA. ))) + :E = no.
cookie + mermaid = yes.


LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOO. i did not just write that.


rest. [07 Mar 2006|08:04pm]
everything seems so much more perfect when it's recorded. on paper, on photograph - the stillness gives time for adaption and acceptance and it helps us appreciate all the nooks and crannies. but i don't know - there's nothing glamourous about life.

i quit dolling myself up in complex clothes after only three days. i don't know - i guess i don't see the point. and it's so much more comfortable, because i can never sit still for ten minutes straight. i'm constantly shifting positions - if i ever get married, i'll feel sorry for my husband. haha. it's like i told him once, back before everything fell apart: whoever i marry will have to put up with so much. all my random singing. he chuckled and added, "random screaming. random paranoia." i laughed and finished it off with, "and random dancing." and you know what he said?

the husband who cheats on you would be making the biggest mistake of his life.

bitterfreakingsweet. guess people eat ninety percent of their words, sooner or later. i almost wish i could grant him his choice of no speech. haha. nah, i'm no better. we're all the same.

she wrote: God weeps with us at betrayal.

it's still a struggle for me. i mean, that one night where i cried so hard that i began to scare myself and wondered if i was mad - that night was a breakthrough, in its own, weird way. i guess if i had the choice, i wouldn't dare change a thing. i just need sleep.

on the train today. it amazes me how much our eyes can take in. looking out the window, there were at least three layers of images, all moving and exploding in a million hues and shades. i saw the outlines of my eyes, the grafitti on the fences, the sudden large houses, the sky and the leaves, the people inside the carriage, the man with the glasses, the dark-haired guy behind me, the pink shadows.

someday, we'll know.

don't look down - you can never look down.

october in march. [06 Mar 2006|12:00pm]
might just be time to fly.

extraordinary. [06 Mar 2006|08:07am]
it's so cute.

they added this ground extension to macarthur sq., a courtyard, fountain, restaurants and thankyouGod starbucks. so! that's awesome, and i finally got new mascara which is awesome too. this hot blonde guy kept staring at me. i don't know. it's different now.

my pastor talked about the seed. haha.

my eyes are swollen and i'm so tired i can't sleep.

i just want a little bit of truth.

grin.Collapse )

for a stranger. [03 Mar 2006|10:03pm]
third of march, 2006
10:01 PM.

i feel bare, tonight. i feel as if my skin has been pared off, layer by layer, leaving behind trembling flesh, exposed and raw, fragile and bruised.

we are taller than ever before.

screw it, what do i know? seriously - wow i'm not even gonna try to make sense of everything because that merlot is swirling around with 'quick fix' written all over it and there are numbers to press and bodies to shove around in bed. numbing, that's what they call it. damn, it's not like i have enough faith to trust in healing, right? gotta take it into my own hands, need to make sure with my own eyes that i'll be okay - isn't that how it's always been?

"just because it is the end of the beginning, doesn't mean it is the beginning of the end," he cries. "sing my heart out for a stranger," he sings. the repeat button glows. strings and piano, not together, but lonely. haha. "cheer up, it might never happen. as i sit here, spitting and churning, it's clear it's happening right now to me." hahaha. "fallen, fractured, broken, busted."

hey, remember april?

i can't believe that was eleven months ago. it feels... lmfao. longer and shorter. i look back and see a stranger. in eleven months, will it be the same? in eleven months - hahaha. will i raise a brow and roll my eyes at a name and a couple of cds? i hope so. God, i hope so.at least it's hope in something.

my mother rearranged the paintings in our house. our portrait hangs right beside me, not two metres away. a plane flies overhead. my wine glass is empty. my camera is switched off. i've loved a liar. i'm a liar. my grandmother is sick. i won't try to numb the pain anymore.

hey, remember ap -
hey, remember dignity?

i once said that the third of march was my valentine's day.
happy valentine's.
because today, i'm cutting off everything.

head full of lightning; [02 Mar 2006|06:54pm]
hair full of rain.

metal doorframes standing, unwalled, amidst grass overgrown. telephone lines, like streamers, flying high into the sky. cracked store windows, like spiderwebs, waiting to fall apart. a driveway, covered in fiery leaves, regardless the season. a white picket fence, uneven, like an old man's fragile teeth. a banana tree, green streaked with brown. hand-painted signs, powder-blue fish and pink prawns smiling. crumbling tiles, an old washing line beside the river. the girl in front of me keeps doing and undoing her hair. burger king grins in the distance and says "thank you". a plane reaches beyond the clouds. i yawn. i smile.

let go. open up your eyes. haven't listened to 12 stones in ages.

i am so thankful.

i used to make paper people. when i was six years old, we used to have a small office in our backyard, disconnected to the house proper, but my dad never used it much. so instead, it became my cubby, subject to constant sparks of inspired imagination. and one fine day, i decided to play teacher. it fascinated me - how they could read picture books upside down or how tall they were. my brother and my sister were too fidgety, noisy and human to become perfect students, so with all the determination i could muster in my fingertips, i constructed four beings. they were certainly life-size to me. four people, each created from four pieces of paper taped together, childish beauty drawn upon them. crowns and jeans, lipstick and back-to-front caps (then, that was the i.d card of the cool and rebellious). there were two girls and two boys.

even now - thirteen years later (yes, thirteen. always a good number) - i think i still try to play with paper people. people that say only what i want them to, move when i want them to, people whose thoughts i can read like a book.

see - every expression becomes a translation. although there is absolute truth, there is also relative truth and degrees of possibility. and hey - sometimes, the distance between their heart and my mouth; their breath and my mind, is more vast than the atlantic. we can interpret things so differently - yes, no, maybe, i hate you, i love you. who knows? maybe i overestimate or underestimate the poignancy contained within words. i don't know - but at the same time, i do know. just like one blade of grass is never seen twice in the same way, lightning will strike again - but never identically. never in the same place. i know i will love again, but never like the first. and now there is nothing left to do but smile. i am grateful. i am blessed. i am healed. i am saved. i am free.

to receive a passing grade, i need to take a photograph of truth. amazing. isn't it beautiful, how God pieces life together? haha - "like lovers' fingers". interwined and always fitting, life gives birth to death, which in turn gives birth to life. and though there is relative truth and degrees of possibility, there is also absolute truth. love, and Love - that is an absolute truth. see, i believe absolute truths are those essentials too obvious and too unbelievable to be listed in textbooks or made into magazine quizzes. they are the threads that hold a human being together - and more importantly? they are the threads that hold human beings together.

perhaps this really is my renaissance.

a wise person once said: put your hand to your chest.
we, all of us, have but one heartbeat.

we just might be the instruments that keep beat to Salvation's symphony.

only three days, and my notebook already has coffee-ring stains.

"why are you looking at the garbage dump?"
"i'm not. i'm looking at the sky."

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