We are all just bunch of firing neurons

I went to see Andrew O'Neill last night - the occult comedian who was just delightful and possibly should be the poster child for being the most tolerant guy in the world. I think he has the right attitude - he said that he was nothing but a subjective concept to us - a bunch of firing neurons in each of our minds, creating a picture, and understanding in our minds that would then lead to our perception. I mean what a fucking awesome statement, because if you are making judgements it's your own mind thats creating them isn't it? It's your firing neurons that are fucked.

he considers himself to be a transvestite in fact he says that he has joined the union and that part of that commitment is to cross dress at least 3 days of the 7. I'm not sure if this detail was fabricated - I can't help thinking that this union is actually a bit of a boys club because I would imagine it's much easier to join as a man cross dressing than a woman, given that we have naturally blurred the boundaries and I am actually not sure what would constitute enough masculine effort to be considered a female "cross dresser" I have tried to google it with not much success on this detail. In any case Andrew is so handsome and looks so lovely in his outfits - they suit him perfectly - I wish more men were comfortable in wearing dresses or skirts and it were as normal as women wearing pants (trousers for any UK readers - I wish), then if it were more socially accepted we would have to define it with some special term it would just be the norm. Actually it did make me think how lucky I was to be a woman - we definitely seem to be the more freer sex and have far less limitations when it comes to how we wish to socially construct ourselves as individuals, but I guess it comes at a price with other social stereotypes and limitations but I think we have opportunities to break these more than men do.

What I love most having attended the show, was had i not gone i would never have been sat down next to a man who was I would say in his forties, with the most beautiful healthy looking long hair i have even seen, I was totally jealous, but I'm digressing, sorry. He was a corrosion scientist and is from the UK doing a stint at the CSIRO in Australia. His demeanor was soft and shy but ever so warm, open and friendly to anyone who was willing to accept him. He proudly showed me his newly acquired vampire teeth, that he has recently had made to fit. They were lovely. He said he has an affinity with the vampire concept and thus dresses accordingly to the description of one to fulfill this sense of connection. I asked him why he simply didn't get the teeth capped onto to his regular teeth for a more permanent commitment to the look, but he shyly responded that the corsets, capes and teeth come out for the appropriate nightclub he attends - I hoped that was his choice and not because he felt he was only limited to that space as a way of self preservation.

His one concern about being in Australia was that the overwhelming exposure to the sun was giving him an unwanted tan. "Who is going to believe me as a vampire, if I turn up looking so dark skinned" Bless him. A truly gorgeous spectating buddy to a very entertaining show.

Be who you feel you should be, don't fight the neurons creating your individuality or be limited by other neurons, that are, themselves limited in their perceptions.

xx

Misty Water Coloured

(I know it's slightly egocentric, but it's my blog and I'm doing it anyway)

My Top 10 Childhood Memories in chronological order - probably answering all your questions as to why I am the person I am today.

1) Feathered Encounters

Two years of age (That's right this is my first memory and my mother is quite impressed with the level of correct detail) I had been taken to the easter show, Im presuming where I had been taken was, in fact, the easter show. In any case I knew I had been somewhere exciting and fun and I was hoarding a collection of goodies to show for it. Except as I sifted through the items in which was probably the millionth audit of newly acquired possessions I realised something was indeed missing: My coloured foil windmill with the yellow handle. You know those windmills made of sparkly foil paper, that when you blow on them all the colours merge into a big blob keeping a toddler interested for hours. I went on a hunt to find it and peered out the window towards the car from where we had come - bingo - there it was lying innocently on the ground. I must have made a dash out of an open front door, down the steps of the stoop and onto the driveway where the car was parked. My windmill was within a hands reach, however as I reached out to pick it up I realised I wasn't alone. I looked up and there ahead of me was a feathered creature of gigantic proportions, its giant claws scratched threateningly on the ground and its beak snapped - this was the end I was to be eaten alive by this death winged creature. Screams and tears were cascading from me before I even knew it and frantic parents rushed out, only to stop in their tracks, stare and then burst into fits of laughter (I was not impressed by this reaction and now I think back and am impressed that at the age of 2 I already knew how to be unimpressed - clearly why it's been the default reaction of my life)

Oh PS this monster turned out to be a chicken and ironically it got eaten in the end by the neighbours and thankfully I remained in one piece.

2) Jealousy

3 years - first day at kindy - I met my childhood best friend Sarah, however the first time I met her I despised her as she walked aloofly onto the astro-turf and hopped onto some play equipment (the type of play equipment that is now banned because it's now actually deemed too dangerous for children to play on - no wonder children are so soft these days.**) Sarah was sporting the latest hair design of a full curved to the head fishbone braid and sporting pink and white reflector velcro sneakers - god dammit she was cool - I hated her and at the same time desperately wanted to be her friend, cool by association. I knew from that early moment I would never make the grade with the latest fashions and reach true uber coolness - I was served a cold wet dish of reality from the ripe old age of 3. Still Sarah turned out to be a nice girl and we became friends, plus a couple of weeks later her mum cut all her hair off to look like a boy because of nits so that cut her down a peg or two.

** We used to go to pottery classes in the school holidays and there was an old wooden circular bench (like a really simple carousel) that you would push around and it would spin and it had section like a pie, each section would hold a couple of kids and you would hold onto the metal bars so to not fall off. We would get as many kids on as possible and spin that thing so fast and the last kid still holding on won. We also used to have a treated pine pyramid that was at least 5 or 6 metres high - that many a kid owes there first broken arm to. Needless to say both these super fun playthings no longer exist.

3) Pink Undies

5 years of age - some of the participants of this memory still refuse that it happened but there is enough of us to know that it did. We were in kindergarten, the very first year of primary school and in fact we were only a couple of months into it. We had a teacher called Mrs Moosung (I think she still teachers at my old school - thats 24 years ago!) she had just nipped out of the kinder yellow classroom for a minute (probably to have a ciggie or something) Anyway we were told to sit still and wait, of course the minute she left, we all went mental. One of the girls called Sarah said I bet you can't guess what colour my undies are. Yellow a girl called Melissa yelled, White I chimed, purple Alanna shouted. All received shakes to the head so of course this turned into all of us trying to lift each others skirts up to see the colours and basically each others undies, then out of nowhere Emily jumped up and said these are my undies and pulled her pink knickers down to her ankles and did a jig - cue Mrs Moosung. We all got sent to the headmistresses office. Emily went first and came back in tears, I was horrified and petrified of my turn, I was so scared when I was actually in there that I burst into hysterical laughter, the headmistress was ok though and I was just told off and sent back to class.

Still the ordeal had made me so embarrassed and mortified that I didn't admit it to my mother until I was in year 6.

4) wet carpet

Year 1 and I was 6 years old. My teacher was Mrs Couch and she was frightening, she had a booming voice and smacked us when we were naughty (back in the days when this was ok) But she also made us massage her feet and play with her hair when she read us stories. One day she kept us back in class even after the lunch bell had gone and I had been desperate for the toilet, and wet my pants - unfortunately this also made a little wet patch on the carpet. When she told us to get up and line up to go outside, she noticed it and pointed her foot at the patch and boomed "who did this" I was so scared I never said anything. I also didn't say anything because I knew what happened to little girls who wet their pants at school - they were sent to Mrs Kernig, the nurse and were forced to wear a boys uniform for the rest of the day and then you got teased by the other kids

This is the first time I have ever told the story.

5) The School Yard (Various Memories)

We used to play He-man and Sheera in the playground at lunch. If a boy bought you a super dooper (which was a long thin fruit ice block) that means he likes you and if you took it that means you were girlfriend/boyfriend and that was considered gross. Once my friend Emily and I had a fight at lunch and she said that she wished I would die at an early age. Not dead yet. We are still friends. Alexia: One, Emily: zero. The school canteen. You would always approach them with the sentence "how much can I get with this much?" [array of coins dumped onto the counter]. They served us carob and ovaltinies instead of chocolate: we were extremely naive. Every band morning my mother would drop me earlier at school, for band practice (my mum wanted me to play the clarinet and I hated it) - I spent a lot of mornings in the mural weather shed, and at the concerts I pretended to play (I've never told my mother this).

6) Learning does stay

Year 3 and I was 11 years old - I had to do an assignment on Platypuses and Echidnas - they are both monotremes - this means they only have one hole..... for everything. Snap.

7)Raptors in the dark

One of my closest family friends Jess was a little younger than me in school but outside of school we did a lot together, everything in fact, a lot of memories live in the lap of my mate Jess. We used to go for walks at 7.30pm every night - I would watch Home and Away at 7pm and then re-tell Jess the episode while we were walking (I don't even know why? I think she may have enjoyed the way I told the story better than watching it herself) Anyway my fondest memory with Jess was with my sister and her brother Jordan. It must have been around the time of Jurrasic Park because this is how we knew about Raptors. Basically whilst the parents were chatting in the other room over dinner we would play the game raptors in the dark. Simple Premise. Someone was the raptor, the others were getting away from Raptor, we all had to crawl on the floor (around the couches etc) and it was all done in the dark. Basically it was just a way to scare the beejeezus out of ourselves, just the silent anticipation of a raptor behind you in the dark set you off into a frenzy of screams, which in turn led to more screaming from others and so on. the adrenalin rush was sensational.

8) And Action......

From very early on people were aware of my dramatic tendencies - I wore one glove around the place in honour of Michael Jackson, Wore my hair like Cyndi Lauper. I had a habit of encouraging (ok... forcing) the children that belonged to the guests that came over for dinner to do a play, dance, song, whatever was taking my fancy at the time and we would perform it for the parents at the end of the nights proceedings. I was a hideous, nazi-like director and everything had to be done perfectly and my way. I was known to fire children from the stage and cause them to cry. We actually have a tape that I recorded, which was me pretending to record a radio station program and I fire one of the children on the recording because she is not doing the voice properly and then she runs off to tell her mum - snitch. In this interview I also run a secret sound competition which was a nose blowing into a tissue and interview a person with the name Led Zepplin - I was an idiot.

9) First Crush

He arrived in year 5 and had the attitude of a kid with a dirty past. I heard he burnt down his last school. Wow. He was a rough, handsome, delinquent. And I spent many a night in my room fantasising about him holding my hand, kissing me, telling me that he loved me, wanting him to ask me to be his girlfriend. He was dreamy. I would go parties and desperately hope that his spin of the bottle would land on me. In the end he chose Anita Palmer as his girlfriend because she peaked early with puberty and had the biggest boobs for a 10 year old, you have ever seen (some say her mother sent her to the doctor for jabs to bring puberty on early....... tramp.)

His name was Robert Doyle.

Apparently now...... he is a total bogan.

10) For the Kingdom, Power and Glory

So I kind of need to mention this because it took up a lot of my childhood life and will explain why I am so anti it now. My mother allowed my friend parents to take me to church. Now I'm not really sure why she did this - It was possible that I had wanted to go, I'm not sure - that I can't remember. I guess my mother had the trust in me that I would eventually work it all out in my own head and make my own decisions about things. I was taken to a CLC church - this stood for Christian Life Centre which was eventually to be become part of the Hillsong family (yup). It was one of those churches that played rock music and the paster wore a Madonna mic and pranced up and down the stage theatrically to do a sermon. He got to the point where he asked people to come down to the front if you wanted to open your life up to jeebus. I was taken down, and a gazillion hands (people I knew as well as strangers) were thrust upon every part of my body and head. To the side of me I could see others in the same position who had started convulsing, their eyes were rolling in the back of their head and they fell to the ground and started yelling in tongues (this apparently is the holy spirit entering your body) I was freaking terrified and not only that I felt like a failure, because I didn't feel even remotely groggy or affected by these violating hands, let alone whacked out by some spirit and in the end the hands just pushed me to the floor. It was ridiculous and no one answered your questions sensibly, only with fairytales that were unsubstantiated and most of the time you were being told how much of a shit person you were amongst a larger group of shit people and the only thing we had left was god. It was theatrical to say the least - possibly why I was attracted in the first place.

Now I believe in science.

But I don't want to leave this with such a cold note so I will tell you that one time in Sunday school we were drawing on the blackboard and at the same time were also given kit kats to eat - so there I was in my element, Chalk in one hand, kit kat in the other - you can tell where this is going...... jeebus made me eat chalk.... I hate jeebus.

Guilty Pleasures

(Some of the plot may have been fabricated to assist the story - c'mon you can't tell me you have never done it and at least I've warned you)

The other day I needed to go to the airport to pick a visitor to Melbourne, so I organised the hire car, picked it up, drove out the 30 or so minutes from city to Tullermarine, parked in the short term and crossed the pedestrian bridge and into the chaotic scene of jet setting: business men, families, backpackers and then some, in all directions were adorned with their various luggage accessories and necessities - some looked like they carried with them, their entire lives from start to finish, others a mere laptop bag. As I darted through the myriad of wheelie madness, I headed towards the screen informing me if the plane had come in, then a glimpse of something familiar caught my eye.

It was one of my girlfriends, her elbows supporting her as she leaned across the barriers of the internationals gate, she had a coffee in one hand and a look of nostalgic satisfaction. As I sidled up to her in hope that we could be waiting companions while we waited for "our people" to go through the torturous traverse through customs, I realised from her look that abruptly burst through the meditative spell she seemed to be under. When I innocently questioned who she was waiting for, there was hesitation, as if she were searching through the bank of answers available for deposit, then she realised the account was fairly empty and fessed up that she was indeed waiting for nobody.

The fairly reasonable journey out there had been for her own guilty pleasures. She felt the completeness in her own soul when she witnessed people re-unite and she devoured the residual excitement that trailed off the backs of individuals embarking on an unknown adventure. And this wasn't the first time she had made the trip to witness these scrumptious delights - as her needs of pleasure required it, she would hop in her car and it seems to me that one may have soon required the other hand to calculate the amount of excursions.

This made me start to think of all the possible quirky little scenarios that have organically become apparent to satisfy our humanly needs of satisfaction, pleasure, pure contentment and harmony - happiness essentially. And who out there at that moment was also satisfying their needs and willingly succumbing to the world of wonderful.

Immediately I knew some of mine. One in particular I discovered when I was quite young - the brutish art of kicking over toadstools...... crazy huh? But I just adore doing it. When I was growing up we had a jungle of a back garden and there were numerous dark, moist and misty places that were just ideal for toadstools to thrive. I had been exploring out the back, avoiding at all cost, the creepy crawlies that also loved the dark spots and I saw a patch of them, defiantly claiming the patch of mound, all hideous, stocky, stubby and stunted. So I kicked them, they were so light they went flying. But the real pleasure I got out of it was the sound, the soft and low "thup" sound when shoe hits fleshy fungus - just imagining the sound is giving me delightful satisfaction. Try it sometime. I bet you would enjoy it too.

So what do you do to fulfill your guilty pleasures?

xx

PS. Just found a facebook group with 95 people in it who also express the love of kicking mushrooms - I am not alone

What will they think of next

*** [added 19/4/10] Interesting, further to my post below from a couple of days ago, looks like it's still good marketing but for the big guy, not the little guy***

I am so super impressed by this marketing I just had to post it. Basically this new restaurant in Melbourne has just opened. Yeah you say no big deal - places open all the time.....

BUT...

for the first 2 weeks they decided to give the food away for FREE on the proviso that you find the details of where this place is yourself - if you hunt and find..... then free pizza! - it's genius, and yellow pages owe this little place for the recent activity on their webpage.

http://hiddenpizza.com.au/ (It didn't surprise me at all to my friend Simon's face in the photo of staff - this is totally him)

http://www.yellowpages.com.au/sup/the-hidden-pizza-restaurant-13768965-listing.html

I think I'm going to order the Hot Salami - YUM

You've got the Love

So why don't you try internet dating? Everyone is doing it these days. It's not weird. People are far too busy these days to meet anyone, so people are using the tools available to meet each other without the time and cost of going out. A friend of a friend of mine and his partner met on the net and they have been together for ages, in fact I think they are getting married. My friend S says it so matter of fact. In fact a lot of my friends are telling me this. I guess at the age of 29 and still being single people feel the need to tell you this after the tenth time of you and them catching up and them asking, again, so seeing anyone? no, no, just me still............ [cue tumbleweed and sound of crickets] um...... (realising I have become a social faux pas) I guess I haven't had the opportunity, you know, to meet the right person? (I ended this as a question because at this point I don't what I'm saying)

At this point into the blog I just want to state (before you all go accusing me of being some Carrie/Bridget Jones wanna be) that I know being single is not the end of the world. I am somewhat intrigued at the fact that it comes so easy to some and not to others (IE me) and I am just wanting to explore that. I mean I actually thought that it would just all work itself out by now - I thought it was part of life's story - It was all very possible (and likely) to end up with a shit partner and thus partnership but you had one all the same. But as a surprise to me I can't even seem to get the shit ones to stay.

So, acknowledge that there is a problem, the problem however, I am assured to by friends is not me, not at all (well that's a relief) but the time that we live in - it's just impossible to fit everything into these modern days. I mean I wanted to be educated, be focused on my own career, my individual outcome and obviously that has come at a cost - not meeting Mr right because my attention has been on other things - so best trot off to the internet and make up for lost time.

Oasis, RSVP, Adult Matchmaker, hot or not, e harmony, fling finder (for the person far too busy to even rock up to a bar and say to the nearest person "oi fancy a fuck?"), plenty of fish (amusing - nothing like a witty pun to make you feel less of a freak) - Nowerdays there is a plethora of these sites just waiting waiting to have your profile installed and they are seriously high tech and very detailed these days which caters for ye olde science of attraction. I think back to the first days when these sites were just starting and wonder whether there was a serious number of mistakes happening or just a serious lull in partnership success. Some of the sites didn't provide photos or if they did some of the photo uploads compressed the image so that the end result was seriously distorted had you put a large file up - so you went by personality, which one might say, is being less shallow - but I think we all needs to face the facts here - beauty and attraction are part of the equation here, it's an intrinsic part of evolution governing laws of health and fertility. Symmetry and proportions, vocal sounds and even scent help us know whether we match well with a partner and will have the opportunities to have have lots of robust babies to continue our legacy. There are even some sites that allow a recording of ones voice to see if you like how the other sounds! I'm yet to find one that allows you to save your scent - so that it puffs out onto whoever has come across your profile!

A site called ok cupid combines all of this - allows you to show your physical side whilst asking you an array of questions in a survey to determine your morals and values of this world and match you accordingly (if you want you could answer all 20000 questions - the more you answer - the more definite the match) So great - we (site makers) are using the technologies properly now to make more "real life" type of decisions on potential partners. And whilst I find it somewhat interesting and mostly amusing, I can't help feeling as I answer the question of "If I was an animal - what would you be?", that we have somewhat regressed despite the 21st century capabilities of getting in touch with the 50000 other losers, I mean datees, that have lucked out in the real world.

I can't help feeling that I have just slapped a big FOR SALE sign on my forehead and I'm brokering myself through a concoction of witty short worded statements and a 10MB image upload limit. I mean our fore mother and fathers have worked very hard to be rid of the family ball and chain making marital decisions for us yet here we are, posting profiles and allowing virtual inspections as if it were a normal business deal much like the pair of pants you are trying to sell on your ebay account - 1 nearly new and without tags nearly 30 year old, only serious bidders may apply. And I have the gaul to look curiously at Indian friend Jatz who's brother was just introduced to his now wife and think that this is a weird and wacky cultural thing to do - my god my photo is on a webpage and according to text messages about 15 dudes have me pinned to their favorites page! And I still haven't said a word to any of them - not even in writing. That's what is fucked up. If we are regressing this far back can't someone indulge me by introducing the paper love letter back into common fashion. A request to merely sit next to me in a public place or to hold my hand or even talk to me, if we are going back this far can we bring the good parts back too? The sonnets, the poems, the communication for god sakes!

It makes me ask the question what am I doing this for? Is it all biological - Am I just pre-programmed like an outlook reminder to say oi, don't forget this oven has a warranty and you are getting very close to it's use by date. Surely not, It has to be more than that - I need it to be more than that. And I would say given that I haven't ovulated naturally in the last year (yes sorry bodily function details alert) I would say I don't hold the best chance of procreating given that I am not even generating the hormones to keep the system going, so I would say the hormones are not what is driving me. Another point of evidence is my appallingly shocking choice of men - I can't say that may choices have ever driven by biology to find a good mate given that they all seem to be as poor as fuck and wouldn't even be able to support themselves let alone a family and the dweeby guys I seem to favour are not yelling out "good genes" to me.

I know all you scientists out there don't believe in love but surely romance has something to do with it. So many stories are based on love, so many songs, so many poems verbalise the crazy manic feeling we get when we meet a significant other, in fact you scientists have shown that a brain in love is much like the brain of the insane. Insanity is not something to do with good breeding that's a feeling we want all to ourselves - the ultimate abdication of our sensible self. It's the feeling people ride roller coasters for, or bungy jump, or skydive. It's that raw nakedness of not only skin but soul and secrets thats given up to become a shared commodity - theres no hiding from a loved one - they witness the craziness, the dirty parts, the clean parts, the sexy parts, the smelly parts - all in ands outs of you.

But that feeling goes away doesn't it? So it can't be all about the romance because the craziness goes and the smelly parts stay - so is it trust I'm looking for? Correction that I need to look for? Given that my choices are obviously not engaging trust and therefore are so short lived. My girlfriend recently told me that her boyfriend said to her that when she washed her lady bits in the shower she reminds him of a monkey.... no shit. This same girlfriend told that once, when she farted in the car, she quickly auto locked the windows and took sheer delight out of his reaction of encountering it and then having no accessibility to any fresh air. What is that!? Other than pure openness and trust in another.

And then there is companionship. I don't want to come across as a loser but I think I may have just had one too many dinners sitting alone in my apartment, looking at the wall (or facebook). Perhaps even my cooking skills may increase if I feel I cooking for someone other than me, I mean my carrot cutting skills are seriously below average. Either that or I will start to get a better range of food being cooked for me! That and I may tidy up a bit more - there's nothing like a person to impress to get your living standard out of the gutter - right now sometimes I feel I'm on par with a homeless person, I'm so lazy. Plus in the last couple of weeks I've been a little poorly and there's nothing like having someone around to make sure you don't die of the common cold and if you do to make sure you are dealt with and it doesn't take a funny smell 5 days later being reported by neighbours. I know, a tad dramatic, but really just having someone around to hear a couple of your thoughts and opinions would be nice, you end up saying them into the air to no one when you live on your own (I'm dead set true about this, it's not made up) about something funny you read on the internet or whether the movie you are watching is totally shit and the silence that follows it, is deafening.

Ok then Lexi, what do you want then? What are you looking for? describe him? My girlfriend put me on the spot after one of my single rants and you know what after I blabbered around the subject for a little while I realised I have no freaking idea what I want. I can't describe him, I can't picture him, I can't imagine myself with him at all. But this is ok and this is probably why I have failed so dismally at the online dating saga. We need to just let it be, I need to stop questioning myself and my abilities cos my friend Felicity hit the nail on the head for me. What's the point of analyzing it Lexi, is it going to be any less confusing, is it going to refine the want any more? The fact of the matter is that there is a yearning, a want to find, a need to find and it occurs naturally and it encompasses every point that has ever been dissected and we are none the wiser because it just is, we. just. are. Just go with it. So this is what I'm going to do - I'm going to get out from behind the For Sale sign (and quite frankly I think everyone else who is online dating should as well - with the amounts of profiles out there we would have enough people to fill a gazillion bars and venues - so c'mon people lets just say hi to each other, what the hell are we all scared of?) and I'm just going to accept the want that is burning in my belly and be open to getting it - whatever it is and stop looking for the reason why not, am I doing it wrong, how can I do this better - those answer are not there and they are not going to help and being frantic about it is not going to help either. Just accept. Just be.

(And maybe ask better questions like - what do you think the best way of cutting carrots is?)

xx

PS. I just wanted to write some of my favourite lines from songs or books that I just adore that represent love to me.

" I wish that you wanted me, I wish that you needed me, I wish that when I said 2 sugars, you knew that actually I meant 3" - Kate Nash

"My phone is on vibrate..... for you" - Rufus Wainwright

"From the top of the mountain. Every morning I walk towards the edge. And throw little things off like: Car parts, bottles and cutlery Or whatever I find lying around. It's become a habit. A way to start the day. I go through all this before you wake up. So I can feel happier. To be safe up here with you" - Bjork

"The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love" - Love in the Time of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez (And there is more where that came from - so many pearls, it's hard to just choose one.)

If you have any quotes that some up love for you - I would love to hear them

Where are you when I have my head down a toilet?

April already? Holy Shit. I've been abandoned. By her. Already. Not by the old girl she never goes away - old faithful, a true stayer. Even though she had been given the marching orders. She sat outside, patiently, curled up on the mat. Peering in. Now and then. Finding a window. Like a naughty puppy, creeping back in, low to the ground, the master has forgotten, she doesn't even remember what she was angry about. I'll just show off the cute, fun side and it will be ever so natural to take up my regular position, in the corner of the room of her life. And where did she go? The new girl? Fucking holier than thou bitch. Butter wouldn't melt. "It's all going to change, everything will be right this year". The perfect life. What's stopping you. Me. Us. The blog. The Surfing. The Diet. The body. The temple. The Zen. What's stopping you. Fucking April is what stopped me. You. My dear. Where are you? Gone. Again. Typical. You never were a stayer, I told you - couldn't even commit until May. You pissed off already. Leaving me. With what? The pinots, the processed food, the sav blancs, the ciggies, the recycled fling, the regret, the toilet bowl - old faithful holding my hair back reminding me that this is what life is this fun - it's good she is gone the only thing she was stopping you from was living the good life. But you've called. haven't you? Disappointment laced between the notes of your voice. Offering Peace. Reconciliation. We can work it out. Can we? We made a date. Tai Chi, Meditation maybe a walk. On Sunday. Yeah Sunday. See if we can... Well we'll see. She says it will all change. When I least expect it. She could disappear. again. Leaving me. Alone. In tears. And old faithful. Pouring another glass of wine.