It went something like this.

Actually, I’ll go far enough to say this is a transcript

Look. I'm getting some weird vibes, like you aren't telling me something. Is there something you haven't told me?

nothing that  you need to know

its all good

You say need, but is there something I would want to know

i dont know

doesnt really matter i guess

do you want to come around for coffee?

or tea?

in a bit

It does matter to me though.

well we're not together anymore - it probably shouldnt matter

I get vibes off everyone, but regardless of our relationship status, you're still very important to me and it's a weight feeling uneasy vibes from you.

I just want to clear my head and figure out why I have these uneasy thoughts.

am i really important to you

As much as I don't like it to be the truth sometimes, yeah

So, is there some sort of reason I'm feeling this?

i dont know *** gee z

i dont understand what you're feeling

Neither do I, but it has to do with you. So it makes it all the more potent.

well, it shouldnt

im going to have a smoke

see you/tty soon

What does one say to that?

I’m stuck at the top of a tower where the stairs go up but there is no platform, just a plummet to the gravel.

Stuck in a constant unbalance.

Say nothing, be loved, say feeling, be shunned.

I know it’s over, I’m in no denial here, but there is always withering, constant shine.

Let it go, let it be.

Be friends?

Be uncomfortable, be the worm, the leech until you are flicked.

I never wanted it to be this way, but I’m letting myself suckle.

Is she hiding

something, or am I just paranoid?

Yours,

Pura

It all started with a nice meal.

I wish I could be even slightly concerned that everytime I drink I inevitably end up writing here the day after.

So there I was listening to the radio with a cigarette, a bottle of red, a stomach full of good food, a good friend and a head full of ideas that would later lead to my unravelling.

At some point during the night I just understood what was going on, it’s a sad idea when you have so much on your mind that you can only hear it when the whirring dies down due to some sort of sedative, be it naturally occurring or from a bottle.

But in the time something amazing happened and I understood with some help from my friend that I have so many ideas and unattainable dreams that it whirs incredibly fast and I get too tired just trying to find one final goal that I end up writing in to the abstract, reading more, writing more and ultimately going further down the spiral.

At first I thought that made so much sense but there is something inside me that tells me to push for everything I can’t have, like I’m seeking some ultimate truth, to go further then the greatest artists, philosophers and musicians.

It’s almost as though I’m chasing some form of immortality but without debasing that whir I can never explain why.

My friend tells me to just get by, to let it be, to go with the flow, but it’s never enough, I need to be doing something.

I can’t decide whether it’s a curse or a blessing.

I find myself thinking, where is the magic?

Where is the community I desire, the musicians that have the same motivations as I?

And if I were to find them (or even in the case of working by myself), where are my ideas?

Where are my lyrics and my songs?

They’re all in the garbage, because I can’t stay happy with a song for more than 15 minutes without thinking it childish or boring. Perhaps I’m a perfectionist, but being aware of this, where should I stop?

Where should I say ‘Alright, this is good’?

Where do I stop my perfectionist trait?

I can’t have the confidence I want without my own approval of any piece of music or any set of lyrics.

This is quite bothersome.

Yours,

Pura

Drinking.

Have another glass, another bottle, another sip, another shot, and another $50 barkeep.

Glad to keep you in business, at least something positive comes out of it for someone this way.

I’m so sick of… youth.

Which may appear to be strange as I am a part of them for the next 4 years at least.

Does youth stop where wrinkles begin?

In that case I may be youth for some time yet, 6 years at least.

I was enjoying drinking for a good month, going to a bar, picking up, and being young and stupid. This is something bizarre for me to begin with, but it came to climax in the last 24 hours.

I made the odd decision to go and catch up with my ex girlfriend. A rather inept idea to begin with, this was followed by my room mate conveniently calling me and telling me to meet him further up the road at ‘our’ bar.

I went here for only an hour before I realised why I don’t like these places, I went back to my ex girlfriend’s house, rather intoxicated. And like the fool I’ve become in the last few weeks due to constant drinking I told her I missed her and I wasn’t sure it was as good an idea as it once seemed.

I then became rather uncomfortable and asked her to drive me home, which she agreed to (after suggesting I stay at her house, which I refused to my discomfort).

I came home and slept.

What is wrong with this picture?

It took me over 2 weeks, 14-20 days to remember that I don’t have fun in bars and yet I had been going to them constantly.

Am I becoming an idiot?

Am I subconsciously ignoring something I used to be in touch with?

Or, is this something that I fear more, was I subconsciously ignoring something preceding this love of the ‘youth scene’ and this ignorance has hit me again?

The latter seems improbable.

I don’t know where I am, what I’m doing, where I’m going?

I feel so vacant, no goal aside from attend university next year (and the others) and get my masters or a PHD in Psychology.

It almost seems the greatest irony when I’m beginning to question my own sanity…

I can’t stand this world. I love music, books and anyone that I can share an idea with, someone with similarities to myself.

It’s so difficult finding anything in common with anyone, because I get an adrenaline fuelled shock when I find someone that likes more than 3 bands or books that I ask them about (and they actually DO know them, not ‘heard of them’ or ‘a friend has read/listened).

It’s so hard to find anything.

I’m sick of different people, they’re all the same.

Nothing is normal,

Nothing feels worth a fight,

Not because I can’t be bothered,

But, because we are all dead already,

Maybe I should stop seeing the broader picture because 9 times out of 10 it results in death of all living things. Religious aside.

I’d like to make the most of this.

I’d like to write some lyrics, I’d like to push some ideas through some music.

The way my favourite bands do.

Even just to push parts of my life through some music, the way that some bands do, that take away the really unnecessary clichés, the extended/useless metaphors, occasionally throw in a metaphor or simile but keep an idea. A song for the people that will be easily related to, something raw, something real, but something different.

One day, I’ll keep playing some guitar, keep writing these pointless blogs, pulling bits and pieces in to my lyrics, there’s bound to be something in a jumble of vowels and syllables.

Yours,

Pura 

Forced back inside a shell that is an eternal pathless world when it’s dark.

There isn’t too much too say about it all. My girlfriend of two years, whom I spent the better part of young adult years, went through turmoil and troublesome waters only to find a nothingness at the end that still hurts.

After everything we ever had, we just found a shallow pond that bode us the reluctance to spend time together, just a stagnant pool.

Spending the entirety of the week forgetting by looking through the bottom of a bottle, but now that it’s wearing off and I’m moving away from such a state of delirium I am forced to overcome whatever resentment I have for myself and everything around me.

We never left on bad terms, but apathy is just as awful. There is some sort of dizzying high that seems to follow too high of an emotion,

glazed over eyes and muted saxophone voices.

So now I sit here, with no more than 4 friends, none of which I am very close to anymore.

No significant other and a life that sits in a shell, in the dark, afraid to turn on the light, afraid of seeing the gleaming shell only centimetres away.

I might feel lonely, but I never want to feel trapped.

Yours,

Pura

Today was my first day in my new job.

Do I enjoy it?

Yeah, I sort of do.

Is it over?

No, I have to be back at 5:30PM for the dinner rush.

I had to kill some time so I visited my old internet haunts.

I came to the conclusion that growing up in the country is the greatest thing in the world, no matter how much you don’t appreciate it, this is mainly due to the fact that my old haunts were my friends blogs and their myspaz pages, which had me remember the days that were so few years ago, but the greatest I could imagine.

Unfortunately, they had for the most part left tBlog in the midst of the HSC, as I once had

All that’s left is the stories of teen angst and the tales of a youth gone crazy.

I really miss those days; at the time I isolated myself, trying to escape the events that would make you the talk of our very small town. Yet, with my friends, something was always a drama, something was wrong, nothing was right.

Looking back, it was really chaos perfected. Compared to the charred remains of my friends that I see now. Twisted, immoral, stupid and ill prepared for what they are calling their adulthood, they put on masks of pride at how fast they have grown up. But they have lost sight of what is important, replacing it with alcohol, cigarettes, one night stands and sleeping with each others spouse.

I could never be like my friends, and for that I can be proud. It pains me to watch what they do to themselves and it pains me to think that maybe I’ll never get my friends back. I’m not stupid enough to live in the past, but I am however dull enough to believe that there is a hope for the old days.

norbetx.tblog.com/

lishmo.tblog.com/

unsigned.tblog.com/

skimo6.tblog.com/

dulie.tblog.com/

davohead.tblog.com/

oneeyedman.tblog.com/

honeycomb.tblog.com/

They stand like headstones for those who wrote in them.

I miss my beautiful friends.

Yours,

Pura

I find myself, day in day out, deciding what it is that makes me feel human.

In the last month I’ve found myself in so many situations that could have led me down a dark path, yet, every time I am in such a confrontation I back out, I think of where this path leads, every in and out.

The statement that will always haunt me comes at the peak of each identical decision.

“This will make me like them, so, no.”

Who are ‘them’?

I find myself asking this question when I can sit and think, “who are these people that I despise?”

Are these the people that spend 2 hours getting ready to sit in a bar and drink to the point that they are so obnoxiously obvious in their vanity?

Are these the people that like sports, pop music, television and shopping?

Are these the people that wake up to go to their jobs, to live for the weekend and honk at pretty girls?

The answer is seems isn’t quite as clear as I had hoped it would be. Had I hoped for an easy answer?

Had I hoped I would be different?

Do I despise them because I am scared to become one of ‘them’?

I’m full of questions but only a few answers.

I search books for something will inspire me to keep moving forward, to be the change, to encapsulate divinity, to be above this.

Nietzsche had it right, his theory of the soul, the camel, the lion and the child (“Thus Spoke Zarathustra”). Perhaps I am on the brink of diving, I don’t feel like the camel, or perhaps moving to the state of lion.

I speak my mind, I try to make my days last longer but I am still stuck in the sleep. In a society that lulls us in to submission by making us feel inadequate unless of a certain social status. In pushing forward in this society, we work harder and then we sleep. Stuck in a zombified state we seem to move in order, like a well-oiled machine.

The origins of society are long dead as far as I can see now, once I know the ‘well-oiled machine’ was a positive and joyous device to be apart of. At some point, surely we were happy to work long hours for survival.

But now, it’s dead, we work for creature comforts and as we acquire them, more are made, consumerism has taken hold long before my day and I think this is towards the root of the problem I am having with my age brackets hobbies.

Society is in ruins, we once worked with machines as a collective, to survive, now it seems we survive only to work machines, told to be competitive, out do each other in social status (which again has mutated over time with consumerism creating an even more fearsome beast), we are but pawns to our own greed. This is my view of the human condition.

Of course, I have fun, I am lucky enough to be able to turn off my pessimism occasionally.

Not pessimism, no I wouldn’t call it that, I believe it’s a realistic and objective point of view as to what our idea of society is in comparison to our predecessors.

It’s a shame that alcohol is legal; an easily taxable device used primarily by unsuspecting youth to lower brain cell counts, impair inhibitions and most importantly to our overseers, prepare us for our modern day world. It’s a shame that even I use alcohol to forget the boredom of modern day existence, I see it as a survival method, a way to cope with my own selfish ideas, unfortunately it has at times pushed to the surface more uncouth behaviour in myself that I would otherwise render as useless worries.

So what to do, what to do?

I feel the urge to change something, to initiate the change, bring forth the new world, Where televisions are turned off, un-invented.

Where magazines are replaced with books.

Where alcohol is available but made a redundant product.

Where consumerism is only a word, not a way of life.

Where guns are redundant and said war costs are spent on the poor, the hungry, the sick, the elderly, the disabled.

There is no chance however, for the fellow man would be lost with the loss of such things, unfortunately, I will never be able to drink enough to know that there is no turning back now.

So drunk on our power, our withdrawals would be catastrophic, our initial reaction would be one of utter disgust. Freedom of speech is just that, our modern day world has already dismantled our ears.

Surely man is but a cocoon for what beauty is to come.

I won’t give up on man yet, but I will try my best not to embrace it.

In such a world I see, hope and love are the only things we can cling to.

Yours,

Pura

Well, it seems I haven't had the best time.

I've always believed in peace but I never listened to that famous Gandhi saying "We must be the change we wish to see in the world."

I'm as cynical as they come, I get it from my Grand father.

Going through anything and everything that everyone else goes through.

I can't say i'm feeling great.

Haven't thought straight, thought positive or had a moment to relax in what seems like years. This is all rather melodramatic for someone at my age. So we'll call this a vent.

Trying to escape where I am, jobs are scarce and I can't keep my head above water. I suppose when the world come crumbling there are those of us who can do something about it and do it, those who can do something but won't or don't, then there are those of us who wish we could do something about but can't.

"There's no such word as can't" - However there are two words 'can not' which have the exact meaning.

I need out, I can feel numbness again, it comes crawling like an old dog smelling food, like blood constricting blood vessels disallowing blood flow in a smokers body. cutting of circulation, cutting off dreams, cutting off hopes, cutting off strength, cutting off self-respect, cutting off ambition, cutting off reasoning and cutting off sense.

Like tree branches, the branch starts to die and all the new leaves wilt, fade and fall to be rolled over by push bikes full of laughter of a childhood spent in sweet naivety. Now that time is over and it's time to wake up and see the world, the real world.

If this is real, I don't want to be around to see what it looks like in the day...

- Pura 

I can count the number of males i know of my age range who read.
Am i missing something?

More and more i wish i was a drone for the next cause, something mindless, something static.
Something that doesn't get recorded in a book. A statistic, or better yet a victim of a brutal mass slaughter, because the sick fact behind this is that everyone will remember the killer, only a friend or relative will remember you were a victim.
I feel like the aftermath, rubble, i laugh and play and rebel. This doesn't make me different. i may be young but to me this world is dead.
And maybe i am dumb. Because quite frankly, i can't see a way out of it. Honestly, i want kids one day, i really do, but i'd feel a gut wrenching guilt to bring them into this world.
Because at the end of the day, think about this.
What kind of world is this when we have to gain freedom and happiness?

The lack of wonder at the world in the last days has led me leave the reality of the world.

The religion, the ‘democracy’, the hypocrisy.

Maybe not forever.

I’m not taking the mind-altering substances it may appear I’ve been indulging in.

Living on a steady diet of water, food, music and emotion.

They call me egotistical, call me impressionable.

But what am I to do without relatable material?

Teenage death games, pain and suffering, fearing all that we can inhibit.

A Cry From Humanity

He lives in a world where he is waiting for his muse

The poet bleeds a feeling he substitutes for catharsis,

A world in where humans named the universe,

Put their place in the centre,

All that we know is what matters to our own,

A world that speeds to beat the age of years and death,

Where the only truth is the words of those who stroke their hubris,

The only truth we can provide is that from the derangement of our minds,

The only truth we will believe is our own,

A truth we can never agree on in entirety and so we create our own deaths,

Pain and suffering our worlds are already dead,

This is all we have for you to read,

And to make up your own mind on,

I’m a dead man already,

Fighting with rotted hands and teeth to create hope,

I want freedom; I want my words heard,

Choice must be made a choice,

A right human’s have been denied,

The joy has been removed,

Enlightenment or regression?

Sex is being sold,

People are being sold,

Freedom is being… forgotten,

Our time is a time of pain,

Who will fight?

How will we fight?

Are words our only weapons?

Will this only be a rebellion?

Is there going to be a revolution?

And at what cost my friends…?

-Pura

The blood of a poet, of passion and pain,

The only thing real is felt only in vain,

Live days like our fires,

Stream higher and higher,

Like the kiss of cold castles,

Don’t breathe when they tire.

The inventions of man,

A fossilised generation,

Evolution is our only imagination.

Scrawlings.

Creeping up, tensions ask for guidance and a mask of sanity and collected calmness.

Violent fantasies flood my mind from time to time.

To extract my pain and release it unto a personal anti-Christ.

I find it hard to keep my hands from shaking; they thirst for your throat young man.

I know its not common courtesy to strangle or even hate a fellow man. But its undeniable, the only catharsis is in these words and in flaws I see in you.

My position doesn’t allow me to point out these flaws, to protect those who see the good in you. I know you all too well, I know why you do the things you do, how you do them, you’re a charming fuck, vulnerable as you seem.

Enough about you now.

This is bottom of the barrel material I’m typing,

Nothing of significance. This won’t change your life.

I find people who have the time to type a blog every hour, or even every day, do not have a life. For I have been there, 2-3 times a week is enough for me at the most.

As I stated previously, bottom of the barrel, but I’ll post this anyway.

-Pura

The word: Rape.

This thought just came to me then.

Rape is a crime and I’m not much on laws, but I can understand this one.

The act of sex, to me is a sacred thing.

All of you who think this are stupid, I shake my head at you, it is.

The act of courting, the romance the chemical fireworks that explode in our minds, the endorphins.

There is nothing more perfect then the substance reaction between sex and love.

Flesh on flesh, teeth grinding, the world stops as a million sensations create a sense of suspended animation.

This is bliss, it’s a reward that those who find love are allowed to have.

It’s a connection between two people who despite the miserable reality that is, what our once beautiful Earth has become, can still be happy through our humanity.

No drugs, no violence, no sin in any form, pure and natural. Better then morphine, better then marijuana, better then heroin or even that first drag on a cigarette.

And this, patrons, is partially the reason that rape infuriates me to the point where my head pounds and my vision become’s hazy.

Rape, it is in every way, it is exactly what our world has become. It embodies everything wrong in our western way of living.

Greed

Envy

Gluttony

Pride

Wrath

And the most obvious

Lust

You know I’m not religious, but 6 out of 7 has to mean something here.

Stop me if I’m wrong, but every fucking time I read or hear about a rape it can linked back only to the second degree and one of these words spring to mind.

There is no moral way anyone can justify the sanction of rape.

These things that attack and hurt women should be killed on sight, if there is a God, if there is something that can teach us or fire messiahs down to Earth, why does he/she/it permit these kinds of action?

“To test our faith… DUR”

WRONG! And the next person I hear that tries that line on me, in any argument involving religion will cop it, because, you’re testing my faith.

 If you rape, if you sexually abuse, kill yourself. Period.

-Pura

I need to breath some fire out of my lungs.

Yes, this is a touchy issue, no I don’t care.

The mentally disabled. I’m talking idiots; I’m talking bullies with inferiority complexes.

Hey I can understand why people are nice to you for the most part. But the next person with a below average IQ that threatens me, will die.

“Oh but they’re just idiots, not worth your time”

So that gives these retards a right to attack anyone they want because they’re ‘just frustrated’ apparently because they fail at school or understanding the world?

I don’t care if you couldn’t get decent marks in school due to dyslexia or mental retardation, inbreeding or whatever. I don’t care if that’s why you’ll never achieve some kind of greatness in society, some kind of importance.

Because if there is a God, you weren’t meant to be important, and as far as I can see you were put here to be a charity case, maybe to test the intellectuals patience.

And this is all my biased opinion and I’m aware of that.

Yes I was bullied as a child because I thought differently.

Yes I stood up for myself.

Yes I got beat up a few times.

And the people that did that to me never change, no matter the social status, the mental capacities, the jobs.

I’ll tell you one thing, they test my patience, they make me twitch and squirm and write.

What is most disturbing here is that no matter how witty you are, no matter how intelligent you are, they’ll always win the battle with a fist.

What helps me sleep at night knows they don’t even know there is a war and they lost when someone let them out of the womb.

No. These people aren’t worth your time or mine but that doesn’t mean idiots should be kept in closet. If they fuck up, jail is good, but they won’t learn, it goes with the title.

Maybe capital punishment does make some sense after all…

Hahaha.

-Pura

So an eventful first post. Biased views flood my comments page.

You’re entitled to your opinions, just be aware that some things really bother me and I couldn’t give a fuck that I offend for the most part.

I don’t intend on offending or forcing my opinions on anyone, if you don’t like it, well, you’re the fool here not me. At least I’ll listen to what you have to say and I won’t criticise you as a person.

Shit happens and I’ll tell you why shit happens and who’s fault it is.

Society, it’s the saddest tragedy and the funniest comedy of our time, since civilisation settled down, stuck a flag in the ground and said

‘Er… ok well from here to the water is… our country, we’ll call it *your country here*, and… we’ll be called *your country here*cans, and we’ll fight your country for reasons we can’t even figure out half the time’

Hey, this is all fun and games, I mean there has to be a list somewhere that has a list of excuses for going to war.

1. Religion
2. Money

Or to anyone with a free mind:

1. Control/Power
2. Greed/Power

“Oh but but but, that’s not true, there’s always a good reason for it, statistics and reports on the news tell us so”

Wrong.

This is a fear tactic, you’re wrong, and you’ll fight me to the end but, you’re brainwashed. Learn to clear your mind, and think for yourself.

K? k.

Next issue.

I see a lot of hypocrisy in the little town I hail from.

Friends that hate you for no just reason, turn around and befriend you again, then its found that they were trying to fuck your girlfriend behind your back.

Isn’t that a kick in the balls?

I mean, if you want to be friends with a guy after being at each other’s throats for a good while, that’s fine, that’s understandable, people change and morals change.

But wouldn’t you think that it’s probably just easier to stay enemies, what do you thinks going to happen.

“Hey I heard you were hitting on my girl man.”

“Yeah… well, I figured now that we’re friends…”

That would make so much more sense if you hated each other.

I see it everywhere in this place, it’s sad.

It’s sad people, when love gets turned into a weapon of hate.

That’s the way we’re headed people.

Although I’ve heard it said many times “Love is only a chemical reaction”, I’ll never believe it.

Contrary to what you may think about me due to my first post, I do have faith in the human soul, I don’t believe emotion is purely a certain ratio of different chemicals combined to create what we have named in such an artistic nature.

Happiness

Love

Hate

Anger

Sadness

The human soul is a confusing and powerfully emotional thing to write about and this is something else that pisses me off.

There are hundreds on thousands of books that explain the meaning of life, what the human soul is, where we can find solace in life, ways to exceed others in spirituality.

The deep philosophy underneath all this, THE MEANING OF LIFE is being sold for $5 in a checkout stand at a grocery store near you.

No, its not ok, this is just another way to make you consume, this is another way to make people feel they have some superiority over others because they read THE MEANING OF LIFE in a $5 book.

Lets face it, we all want to be important, and we all want to be important for that sole reason or to get laid. Hands down, that’s the meaning of our lives in this modern day.

Another sad fact.

So technically, you’re losing any chance of finding the meaning of life by learning things from a book written by a guy who doesn’t know the TRUE meaning of life but knows that the closest thing to the meaning of life is to play on human’s emotions by releasing a book that is filled with false hope and flattery to make a cheap buck.

The only definition for the meaning of life is what you define.

The meaning of life is subjective.

Read all you can, but always be true to yourself, there is hope but it only lies in the mind of the individual.

-Pura

No fucking around this time.

Puberty is a bitch. There’s bigger things to tackle.

So I’m starting this again.

It was once said ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged’

Well. I can certainly understand this, and I do. But let it be known I will not hesitate to attack someone should they question me as a being. I will not crucify or condemn any man who tries and fails. Nor will I attack any man who believes something I do not.

Have we got that?

K? Good, because you’ll think me an asshole if you don’t.

I will however hurt and point out the problems in a persons character should they attempt to ‘dance on my grave’ so to speak. 

Why?

Well, I find almost every criticism I’ve had spat in my face to have been soaked in complete hypocrisy.

“Oh but, but, but, but, you’re a hypocrite too in saying that every bit of criticism is merely hypocrisy, you’re not perfect, you’re just a guy with a keyboard”

Yeah, well at least I can fucking admit it.

I’ve found a lack of freedom in every society and every law that isn’t an attempt at control is merely common sense, and yes, I am offended that you need to make a law for me so I know when to cross the road or the moral irresponsibility of taking a life. You dirty fucks, how long til we get some laws passed under the table that force us to buy products that add up to a ridiculous percentage of our incomes…

I’ve found a flaw in every preachers belief, number one being that they have to fucking scream and yell to get anybody’s attention, Doesn’t that tell you something, we’ve progressed you’re still hearing your Sunday class teacher preaching to you as though it’s the truth, children are impressionable, that’s why its fucking cruel for people to brainwash them with these fictitious works. Listen, unless you can show me a picture of you holidaying with God, if there’s a voice recording or a phone number, has he said what I should or shouldn’t be doing lately, no, its called being static, its detrimental, no progress, no change. When she/he/it/alien leader tells me what I should do I’ll listen, let that be said, no man rules his fate, spare me this subtle guessing game, I want my lights shining down on me and angels singing as I hear an almighty voice tell me where to go. Fuck that, get me an email address. 

Til then, here’s some tape; shut the fuck up until he adds me as a friend on myspace.

And if those of you out there who already know all this and want to comment to let me know. Just save it. I’ll accept appreciation, don’t give me cheap flatteries, because we all know that’s just what you’d love to say about yourself, that’s the image you’d like of you in other peoples minds.

Well, I think this post has made me infamous.

In the words of the hero: “I’m available for children’s parties”

-Pura