Tales of mugrug.

An entry to mark the passing of time.

2009-12-05T01:24:57Z

Tiger's death hit me hard. It pithed me of something essential. The core of my being has sat hollow, but is regenerating. I've had a rough time of it. Falling out with my friend Drue has added further injury. However nobody can live in stasis and such changes are an impetus to start afresh and abandon the old ways in an attempt to construct something new. Maybe find beauty in the world again.

I write this post to mark the flow of time. I am in a non-state, a quiet place. I feel cocooned. Waiting for the changes to happen that will let me spring forth again (I know I'll spring forth again.)

I've moved to Redfern, into "The Block." As infamous as my Eveleigh st abode seems to be I've found it to be the perfect place to live, full of safety and warmth. The distrust of the area keeps most others away which makes me feel secure and safe.

I've found constant solace in Jade's arms and my love for him has grown more than I would have imagined it to. I've been gardening and taking pleasure in watching things grow. Baking scones and muffins and cakes. Taking a huge comfort in eating and reading again. I've finished TAFE and am looking forward to my plans for the new year. Jade and I are nesting, building something safe and warm for us both to prepare for the challenges ahead.

And I must say that I am happy. This is happiness. It's not challenging, or exciting, or fearful, or dangerous or hateful. It's just happiness. A new foundation to build on and move forward with.

This entry marks a period of time. A preparation for regrowth. It's not here yet but I know it will be and can await it in security, trust and love.

Tiger

2009-09-04T20:17:59Z

You held me in your arms as you felt me gently sobbing at the exploits of the Doctor in the Library.I told you it wasn't fair to be digitilised and stored forevermore. I said it was just a memory and that there's no longer any life to live.

You looked through my tears and told me I had wise eyes.

That man, that impossible man!

I said I'd seen attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.

You finished it before I could. You watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate.

And together. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in the rain.... time to die.

You'd so often finished my sentences. Sometimes before I'd even realised that I'd began them.

I'd always sleep later than you. You'd be gone and back with coffee and coissants as I stirred. You'd wrap me in a blanket and we'd plan the day. soothing, black and warm. Autumn leaves, dying leaves.

We laughed at degrassi, took valium and watched prisoner in slow motion. You said it was more meaningful at half speed. You'd repeat the favourite sounds that it brought "you... barrrrr...sssstttttaaarrrrrdddssss..." But you lived your life as though it was on fast forward. Or maybe it was just our time together. Brief sojourn that it was. It all seems a headlong rush from the vantage of retrospect.

The first time we met I walked into the house and you rushed upto me and took me by the hand and sat me down next to you. You'd seen an angela carter novel i'd been reading, laying in my (yours? ours?) bedroom floor. You opened up your bag, pushed aside the tin foil wrappings, and pulled out a stack of her novels. We fell to conversation. You poured me gin and tonic and gave me unpronounceable pharmaceuticals.The flight of that night remains a blur, but I was told that we told each other we loved one another. I awoke the next morning to you naked beside me, in your arms for the first time. I didn't want to leave.

The next night you came up from the Sandringham to the Courthouse to meet me. You were out of it. All raw emotions and tenderness. I told you I'd walk you back to the Sando. You grabbed my hand and pulled me into the gazebo near the hub and we kissed. We walked across the street, just past buzzbar you pushed me against the wall and locked lips with me again. My legs nearly gave way, I felt so new. But you looked at me with deep and searching eyes and I retreated from you that night. Uncertain of whether I wanted that gaze set upon me, or the passion that it held. Uncertain if I could reflect the intensity through my own eyes.

And maybe I was just a mirror, afterall.

I skipped TAFE (again...) the sun was shining and all was wonder. By the time we reached the beach it had clouded and greyed. So we skipped the ocean and walked north from coogee. We talked about your thesis and ideas about memorials to death. We stopped at the cemetery and you pushed me down into a grave and we kissed. You told me you wanted to be cremated and your ashes thrown from a clifftop into the ocean overlooking your favourite beach up north. I never did get it's name, but you said you'd take me there to see it. (Maybe you will?)

You gave me books to read and showed me films that made me respect my own beginnings and learn to love them. I gave you.... what? A person to talk with, a safe harbour in stormy seas?

We saw dolphins in the bay and as they passed you went to run in but hesitated. You said how much you regretted not jumping in. They returned later that day and you, stripping off all your clothes, jumped in after them. Though you weren't able to keep up with their impossible speed. You loved that you'd tried and felt at peace.

I wish we'd had more time to know each other. I feel like we'd barely scratched the surface, and yet you understood me so thoroughly that it scared me. And now I'm walking with a dual shadow; from our shadow store (closed at midday.) All I can do is wait for it to fade away (which I don't want) or for it to be taken away (but then what was the point of having it at all?)

Where's my Doctor? I'd settle for a lasting memory of you to digitally take with me. A voice on loop preserved for all time. There's so much left unsaid, so much we had to share and so much I had to learn from you. As it stands I'm not sure the lesson in this (I've never been one for morality tales.) But perhaps the Telling isn't over yet (can it ever really end?)

Now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million days, when the wind stands fair, and The Doctor comes to call... everybody lives.

That day was not for us.

mugrug @ 2009-01-23T15:49:00

2009-01-23T15:59:33Z

Wow, it's been quite a while since I posted in here. How time flies (when you're having fun?) Perhaps that's what I've been having. Perhaps i've just been avoiding reflection. At least in a semi-public forum. What can i say really?

Not that I have nothing to say (that wouldn't be like me at all.)

Sometimes it's important to return to old loves and old ways of being and enrich them with the new experiences learned.

A nd since I have nothing to say at the moment; here's poem I wrote in a backpackers in London.

Silence

A silence it is that fills me
and brings the quiet fear
the nothing left.
It reverberates off the walls
and speaks to itself
in still tongues.

I am afraid of this place
this space left broad and
deep as an ocean.
So I try to fill it up,
Taking whatever I find to fit
the space within.

A background hum.
I feel it in my teeth,
it stains
Filling every part
with a numbing glow.
I'm a vibration.

Birds take to the sky
and clouds carry them afar
in their arms.
But i lay and cannot see.
Incommensurable, immovable,
on my back.

Turtled in the hot noon sun,
waiting for the birds to come and peck
my bare flesh.
They'll gain no sustenance
and fly off hungry from feasting
on my calm.

I change localities,
destinations appear as skylines shift
into sleep.
Yet I carry this quiet,
temporally. Where none may hear
But me.

New job, new start, new perspective.

2008-06-24T10:48:44Z

The bus travels along its regular course with I, unable to get a seat as usual, stand gripping a handhold. I'm sure I look pale. MY jaw is permanately clenched, pewrhaps from talking all day, perhaps from stress. I feel irradiated. As though the light from the computer screen has travelled through my skin and sapped it of its vitality. "Hello, This is Tom speaking. How may I help with your Bigpond enquiry?" The statement burning its way into my psyche.

Ask a leading question. A little X-Ray to view what's underneath the purpose of the call. Ask how you may help them. A lightwave to illuminate their purpose. Remember active listening. Radiowaves sent though the wires to assure them that somebody cares.

All this energy pulsing about. Redirecting the movement of my thoughts. Simplifying the complex into concise and simple solutions. Taking the multitudinous aspects of their daily monotony and applying it to a simple method of integration to the system. Certainly I can help with that. I'm sorry but it was in the Terms of the Contract. I'm sorry to hear that you're not happy with our service, I'll put you through to cancellations.

My jaw aches and the bus rocks gently, accentuated my listlessness. The ther commuters read a book or gaze out of the window as absent and drained as I am myself. Selling their labour to survive. Selling their time to others so that they may buy some future time for theselves. So many transactions taking place. Simple and quantifiable. It's all about reduction. Reducing it down to a simple equation. Applying the vastness of it all down into a simple dollar digit that can be accumulated and put into your paycheque. Simple. Correct. Congratulations, you got it Right.

I gt off the bus and cross the road. The same steps that I take each day in the dusk. The light is fading and my footsteps seem to trace a faint line in the shadows ahead, made by a well-worn repetition of habit. The simplification of it all! How completely sensible.

Then a thought occurs. Perhaps things shouldn't be simplified. Perhaps my thoughts are misleading me into becoming complacent with a perfectly reasonable method of transacting life. My footseteps slow from my usual brisk pace. Fast enough to get me home without excessive strain or panting. Quite efficient. As my thoughts begin to unpack I feel a slight amount of relief. My jaw seems a little less tight and I can feel my breath in my lungs. I feel as though My thoughts are Russian dolls one inside another. They're easier to transport this way. Finally they are being pulled out from the inside of their mother. and rolled about. Being examined from each and every angle.

It seems difficult, stuttered. As though my mind is reluctant to slow down. I try to relax, and feel panicked at the thought that I may not have been relaxed to begin with.

I follow the same steps and wonder why I'm following them. A brief moment of hesitation. I could go anywhere. I feel empowered and afraid. I consider the possibility of diverting offtrack just for an instance. As though this autopilot of repetition was not a necessary state of being. That my whole life was not premeditated by the rational sensible outcomes of different data, voices over a telephone, being applied to a system of action. But herein lies the problem. I've simplified this situation once again. Taking it down to its lowest common denominator and teasing out the remainders until they lie at a decimal place so far removed from myself that I'd have to squint through the hazy distance to see it. I squint with my minds eye but see a repetition of zeroes.

I draw a blank.

I am approached by two people and once again register that I am walking towards home. I pick up my pace as my autopilot re-engages, bringing me back to my programmed course. I wonder if they wondered at my slow and mediated wanderings before I caught sight of them. I walk home trying to recapture that sense of opening, that unpacking of thoughts. One box inside another. Each being examined, and explored. Each has four corners, each fits neatly inside the other. I know this, but just let me look at it. I want to see for myself it's edges make sure that it slots neatly into the next. I'm mesmerised by this tesselation. It seems to glide in so smoothly. Like the slow drift of an object through space. Thoughtful hallucinations of boxes in vacuums.

My jaw aches. The radiation sickness has penetrated to the very core of me. I feel it in my mind. The cancer. The tumorous growths that are restructuring my thoughts. Cancerous order making sense of the disorder that came before it. Speed. Efficiancy. No time to slow. We're making you better.

I enter the house the world seems to tilt below me slightly, though my body works perfectly well. I converse briefly with my flatmates but am not sur if I'm the one talking. Certainly sounds like something I'd say though. Simplified back down and quantifiable.

I go into my room and look at myself in the mirror. I get changed into some casual clothes and see my shirtless reflection in the mirror. It's strange how different I see myself from day to day. I feel like sometimes I am muscular and adult, sometimes like i'm putting on too much wait, sometimes a little gaunt. Today I look more boyish than I have seen myself for a while. A slight speckle of chest hair giving the only hint of burgeoning adulthood; adorning a smooth-skinned and bottle-tanned body that today is viewed as very appealing. An unpacking of thoughts and feeling of what I usually feel about this self. A recognition of the mourning that I feel each time that I see myself. This body will age and whither. Time is the most important things for this self. What are you doing with this prescious time?

My thoughts are disconnected now. Lying limply around me. Focusing all energy they can on the task at hand. Typing on this keyboard and expressing the moments just past, and the moment underway. A meaning to it all could be sought but that would be a simplification, too fine a point for the breadth of this. Things lie unpacked around me. Russian dolls in boxes thrown haphazardly about the room. I look at teh untidy mess of it all and regret the fact that i shall have to tidy it all up once more. Then a reflection of the visceral nature of it all. A pleasant sensation at the thought of the untidyness of it all. I shall have to put it all back in its place, but not yet. For the time being I can just view the disarray. I have time for that now. To sit in the centre and watch intently as it does nothing. As simple as that.

Tonight I must remember to wear my dental plate. My unpacked thoughts will set my jaw in action. Though only in my sleep shall order be retained.

mugrug @ 2008-04-27T16:47:00

2008-04-27T07:29:33Z

Francisco Jose de Goya, The third of May, 1808, 1814.

A deep and primal scream echoes across the valley. A final testament to the man that was, in that moment. An affirmation of life and existence. Then the cranking gunshot. Silence.

The next man is brought to the front and dragged before the firing squad. The French soldiers are handed their rifles as their officer reloads the barrels they just emptied. A look of boredom seems to be on their faces as they put the powder into place. They may have been running drills, for all their lack of interest. The condemned before them wimpers and prays to an indifferent god. The man before me cries out loud, almost drowning out the sound of the gunshots as the body knelt in prayer falls back upon the pile.

I watch the officer reload their guns for them yet again. You see, if a single rifle shoots a man from that distance it is unlikely that the shot shall kill him straight away. Wound him, cerainly. Perhaps even mortally. However it takes the combined effort of all five riflemen to ensure and execution. The officer places a blank in one of the guns each time, so that the soldiers shooting never really know if they fired a shot or not. Perhps they weren't responsible for the death they saw before them at all. Our uprising in Madrid against our French oppressors has ensured that on this, the morning of our deaths, that we had all seen plenty of death.

The soldiers raise their guns again. I'm almost amused by the mechanical motion in their arms. Crane my neck to see if they have a wind-up key poking out of their back. Of course, there's none.

This morning is a massacre. Yet traditions, being as they are, must be kept to fortify the honour of such bloodshed. The officer reloads the guns again and puts a blank into one at random. The 5 soldiers surely muct see this as a sham. The line of condemned strectches down the hill. Do they really believe that they may have the blank for each of us? Iwonder if the have a wife and child at home, and whether they wonder about my wife and son. A one in five chance for each of us that they may not be responsible for our deaths. An eighty percent likelihood that they had shot the man in front of them. Even then, are the really responsible? Afterall a single shot would only maim. It requires all four real shots to kill.

Another volley of fire. I see the soldier's eyes now, they seem not to see me at all. Devoid of all reponsibility by a neat little piece of mental arithmatic.

I approach the front of the line, only one before me now. I wonder how I will go. In tears, with a final life-affirming scream of defiance or in prayer and in hope? Which would be more fitting for the life that I have lived? I must plan this moment as it shall be the final testament of my existance. Naturally, when the soldiers come to grab me I haven't reached any conclusions.

I, as all do, am dragged off with whimpers and screams.

I'm shoved into position before the firing squad. Suddenly, a moment of clarity strikes me. The soldiers rise their guns.

"Un..."

"Deaux..."

"Cada uno de sus tiros mataráI!" I shout above the noise. A final triumph, an affirmation of their own denied guilt and a testament to what they had done here today.

"Trois!"

The crack of gunfire fills the air.

If only they could speak Spanish...

***

Sometimes it's fun to imagine you're someone else. Even when it's not somebody you'd ever want to swap places with.

Nevertheless, I think I'd still prefer to be in th posotion of the Spanish revolutionary than the French soldier. It seems more fitting.

Degree Completion

2007-12-06T23:32:55Z

Semester 2

Alpha Digit Unit of Study Name Mark Grade
GCST 2604 Sex, Violence and Transgression 83.0 Distinction
GCST 3604 Cultural Theory 74.0 Credit
PHIL 2627 Philosophy and Psychiatry 76.0 Distinction
PHIL 2642 Critical Thinking 70.0 Credit

And that, my friends, is how one finishes a degree. *bows and walks off stage*

The stuffed men.

2007-11-21T08:12:26Z

Due to the influence of a couple of friends, and a a lack (not loss) of anything better to do since finishing exams, I have been reading over this site. Blogs of people still near. Musings of those long gone. Old posts of selves, long gone.

Which, inevitably sparked conversations with people with whom I haven't conversed for quite some time. The inevitable question "Why haven't I heard from you in so long?"

I mean it's a good question really. What draws people together. What drags/drives/drains people apart. Peope change. We all recognise that.

The answer that I want to say, though never would. That creeps to the tip of the tongue but is swallowed back down just in time, as bile upon a punch to the stomach. Is simply that they don't interest me anymore. It's not an insult, as we have changed. What once stirred me to life stirs no longer. We have much history and I am fond of our associations. But no effort can be drawn on my part.

It becomes hard to live. A life built on transience. What to invest in something. Whether to care, to trust, to love. For nothing lasts. Certainly we have had our moments. Is that what is being asked? Why do we no longer share such moments?

There was a time when I treated everybody as objects at play. We were there for our mutual amusement and enjoyment. Our companionships were pleasant, and the meanings we gave them irrelevant. Who cared for meaning when there was permanence in the present.

As I get older, the less I see myself and others as objects with which to interact. I have gained too much respect for those around me. I have gained too much respect for myself. To have come this far is quite an achievement. To not have failed and fallen at each and every loss.

For there has been loss. The transience of life demands it. Every person, relationship and event must culminate in its loss.

Each time I meet a new person. Each time I speak a word I am distraught because I know that it shall not last. I am paniced by the inability to stop things from fading away.

But I suppose that there is hope. Hope in change? In that once one thing fades the new things will bring new moments.

Though here I am, stuffed full. I cling so much to the moments I've had. The loss is overwhelming. With such weight of meaning behind, what could the present possibly bring. I find that I am too slow-witted to appreciate the moment. I may only gain such a sense by stopping and staring at it a while.

There are so many people who have fallen out of my life. Yet I know that when I see them that things will continue as though no time has passed. Like a book that I can put down and come back to at my leisure. Why haven't you heard from me in so long? Because we've both been leading our lives and although these have made us into different people, somehow nothing has changed. The truth is I will never lose anything that I once had. It stays here and stuffs me full.

***

I think I'll have to move to Melbourne. It's a beautiful city and has such a sense of promise. After I travel Europe for a while. As much as I might think that I know myself, there is so much transience I need to experience and compile. I have so much more to learn and see before I can experience the moment as it should be. Before I can invest without worrying about impermanence.

mugrug @ 2007-08-23T03:53:00

2007-08-21T18:06:09Z

Due to my poor planning skills and horrible knack for procrastinating I am only now getting around to inviting you all to my birthday party this friday.

Sorry for the short notice but I am incredibly, incredibly lazy.

So the plan is that we'll be having a gathering at my new place at 51A Balmain Rd, Leichhardt (just near the forum on Norton St) starting at about 12. If you can let me know if you'll be coming so I can plan how much food to get it would be grand.

From there we'll catch a train to LUNA PARK! Where we shall run around in a crazy haze, eat cotton candy and puke on the frightened children. Cost is $25 for unlimited rides 5-11 PM.

Those of us still standing shall then venture off clubbing. Currently thinking somewhere like Palms could be fun, as it's a far friendlier to gender diversity than most other places on Oxford st. And it's just good ol' tragically trashy fun. Open for suggestions though if anything else is happening.

So come, drink and be merry whilst celebrating my ability to drink in America! Theme is, apropriately, geriatric illnesses. So I expect everybody to forget to dress up ;)

mugrug @ 2007-04-29T19:05:00

2007-04-29T09:50:00Z

Some time ago, in a former life. Well, at least in the formative stages of my current state of existance. I was told that I was a "good stick." The conviction and emotion in his voice (hand on shoulder, shouting over nightclub drone) made the background fade to black. Him and I sharing something beautiful. I didn't quite understand what he meant at the time, simply that it seemed to have some special significance to him. That I felt honoured.

It was later explained to me that we are all wandering though a forest. Lost in the woods. There are sticks all around, littering the ground. Fallen from the canopy. It is our job to collect these sticks as we walk through life. Though, of course, there are only so many stcks that we can hold in our hands at the one time. So it is important that we collect the good ones and keep them with us.

Looking at my life. I know that I am doing my best to find the very best sticks and not let them slip from my grip.

In particular... I am sure that some sticks, bundled together, have the power to create a very special faggot. A faggot that may burn brighter than any individual stick could manage. It is a love that binds them, or something quite like it.

I feel so blessed to have met the boys that have become so special to me of late. Each is a uniquely amazing individual with depth and sensitivity. Courage and love. Yet together they shine so brightly that I have to look away for fear of being blinded. Never in my life have I witnessed anything so beautiful. The world fades to black and the flames illuminate truth. If there is such thing as seeing God, Knowing beauty, truth and love then surely this is it. This flaming faggot of the very best sticks.

It scares me that I am able to be part of such a beautiful thing. It scares me that this may be the best that life can get and that if these sticks are to burn out then there'd never be any as good to replace them. Perhaps such things must be prevented from burning too brightly so that their embers may last a lifetime. And hope that their ashes may grow a tree from which only the very best sticks will fall for future lost wanderers.

mugrug @ 2007-03-22T01:32:00

2007-03-21T14:34:15Z

Oh livejournal, sweet livejournal. how I have neglected you.

To summise, all I haqve to say is, "If you're orange, you're not a frankfurt unless you're a sceptic"

and yes, that summises my hgolidays and my whole recent intelllectual endeavour. So if you disagree or think it odd then you yourself are van especially odd brand os oddly shaped turnip. The world is mad, and I do wish to join it... at least in a reality nomologically similar to this one.

But, alas tonight I have consumed too much of the sweet nectar we call booze and the uni queers will rejoice at such a profoundity.

in short,the world is null, I am drunk, and the past howsoever number of months since my last post are amounting to the unusual claim that I am in love with a boy, by thee name of shannon, and we are to have many a prosperous babe by our collective whomb.

Really, he is my world. I am so much better for having met him,and I love the me that I am now (for him and othewrs) then I have any nprevious me beforehand.

Peace out to my long neglected friends, and a toast to the new begginings of virgininnhg adulthoood.

transmission ends.

mugrug @ 2007-01-18T18:57:00

2007-01-18T07:56:25Z

Because Ellen doesn't include me as part of her family I had to get Goobs to take pictures of me.

I might go and write a song.

Noone understands me...

mugrug @ 2007-01-18T11:51:00

2007-01-18T01:45:20Z

It’s kind of an odd type of feeling. That slow, organic process of remembering events from the night before. Slight echoes of sensation condensing into places, people and actions. Feeling meta-morphing from the hazy beyond into what was once a stomach, now an empty space in need of a kebab.

I recall welcoming Louise back from her trip to Europe. Then playing Poker, and Kings. Waterfall being the most evil of rules in this high-school’d drinking game . Especially coupled with somewhat suspect Thai whiskey. No English to speak of, just a big 25% sitting on the label. Combine that with it tasting like butterscotch schnapps and honey mixed with something that I once tasted distilled in a friend’s backyard, and you have yourself an easily palatable recipe for disaster.

Talking, laughing, spin the bottle, truth or dare, Cale and I running down a residential street in suburban Stathfield holding hands with pants around our ankles...

Yet another night of a few quiet drinks at a friend’s place. (Just a small get together afterall.)

My head hates me beyond belief, so come and let us do it all again and more this friday night. The HouseOfBernard is throwing a party for Shannon's 20th birthday. And we shall endeavour to make it the gayest night the house has seen in a long time (or maybe I'll just throw glitter at everyone.)

Regardless, it shall be more than a quiet get together.

Just another morning after the night before.

2007-01-06T00:31:04Z

There must be more to life than this. Going out every other night. Too much sex, too many drugs, too much booze. Doing whatever it takes to drag together the money to do it all over again.

I feel old. Not the natural age which brings wisdom and understanding through seeing the rises and fall of those around. I feel prematurely aged. What is there that I haven't seen? What wonders does the world contain anymore?

I say I love you, but perhaps I mean it in an "I love all of mankind" sort of way. Certainly you're quite a unique expression of mankind. Though perhaps I need someone to take me by the hand and lead me to new experiences and places. (Show me life, fucker.)

I couldn't stand to peer into the depth that I felt behind their eyes. So I fled into the shallow recesses of the common world. Yet now I see that perhaps their depth is not so different. The shallowness is not a lack of ability but a lack of effort, an indifferent approach. I wish for my eyes to be mirrors so none can peer below my surface. And there I'll hide until I find another with such mirror-eyes so we can stare at each other and reflect eternity.

mugrug @ 2006-12-30T21:13:00

2006-12-30T11:13:33Z

Here is a poem I wrote about a year back and randomly came across lying amidst my notes.

Liberation?

At the top of a park
facing the strip
a phallus points stark
aiming for it.
The creatures that dance
on that road through the night
are taking a chance
to move in its sight.
Perhaps it's a guide
a bare proclamation
of what lies inside
that places elation.
Sturdy and firm
well kept undercover
the thought makes you squirm
(yet that's what we're here for?)
Or is it a threat
to all those about
saying "in you all get
and never come out."
To bars of madonna
and kylie Minogue
we act like it's summer
and dress all in vogue.
Yet the freedom displayed there
can barely conceal
that hidden censor
that comes with the deal.
When once again morning
does shine in your face
the turret's a warning
to get back in place.
The street marks division
as we drink and shout
not seeing the prison
we cannot get out.
This erection's a warning
of danger to come
a violence that's dawning
that we can't dance from.

The only freedom that we can ever achieve is the freedom that we make for ourselves. We are the righteous. We are all soldiers in a war not of our making, and we are winning.

The only real sin is being untrue to ourselves. Let the rest of the world catch up (or leave it behind.)

How we live is the only real power we have, and the only one that matters.

And the world will keep turning if we're here to watch it or not.

It's important to believe in something, afterall.

Dreaming

2006-12-20T08:55:07Z

So here I am. Again. In Tamworth.

The scenes of my childhood flashing by. The oppressive heat and schoolfriends who stayed behind slowly getting fat.

The train trip up here was quite an experience. Passing through intermittent service black holes. The brief panic that accompanies losing mobile reception and contact with the rest of the world. An alienating experince. However, alienated whilst travelling with Goobs, Bek, Matt and Oliver, so not so bad. It wasn't until we stepped off the train for a cigarette at Werriss Creek that I realised what we had done. The heat hit us as we stepped out of the air conditioned comfort of carriage "B", but such hardships had to be endured in order to have our much deserved cigarette break. It was there, standing amongst the people at the station that I noticed that people were staring at us dissaprovingly. I stared back at one guy as if to say "What the hell are you looking at us like we're freaks for?" Then I remembered that we were in the country. Outsiders in our own homeland (yet weren't we always?)

Last night we planned a spontaneous camping trip. Cat, Taj, Debbie Goobs, Philpy and I travelled out past dungowan and pitched a tent (for the sheer hell of it.) Philpy and I decided to sleep in Deb's car instead as it was much more comfortable than the tent and more... solitary. It's strange to see how much he has changed since last I saw him. The first boy I fell in love with, the boy I lost my virginity to (with?) It's good to see him with such confidence. It's good to see him happy. Such a change from the boy i used to know. He somehow became a real gayboy. Funnily enough he says I haven't changed a bit. I'm not sure if I'm pleased with that or not. I'm not sure if it's true or not. Though sitting in the middle of a paddock, thistles biting into my thighs whilst cows roam around, I guess any change in myself fades away to be irrelevant. In the end it was just me and him, chatting about life and holding hands. As though nothing had changed in the last 5 years. Pubescant boys discovering life, the adult presumptions of knowing how the world works left far behind.

It's moments like that which make me think for an instant that perhaps I'd like to return here. Perhaps I'd like to live that meaningful life. Where every action has significance and people matter.

I woke up to the incredible heat baking the car. Stepping outside only to be molested by swarms of flies. Bitten by greenants and stared at by people in the street. This is why I moved away. But for the first time in a long while I feel sad that I've missed out on the last couple of years with some of these people. To watch the people I grew up with become the people they are today (many more hopelessly lost than they were in highschool, but purely so in their rural naivety.)

I was thinking of staying indoors for most of this trip and relaxing but now I'm here I think that it would be fun to dress as overtly queer as possible and nance around the main street getting into fights, like the good old days. People out here need to confront things outside of their comfort zone and if I don't do it few others will. I'm glad to see that some of the gay boys up here have really started to wear it on their sleeve regardless of the consequences. It seems to me that Tamworth is beginning to wak up.

Tonight I'm off to hange out with my other ex, Cambo. (Why do holidays to the country always end up as an excuse to relive past relationships?) Then off shopping tomorrow with my wonderfully awesome sister! Huzzah!

For the first time in years Tamworth feels more like home than anywhere else I've been. I just hope this feeling ends before I go back to Sydney so that I feel at home there again.

I'd rather be dreaming than living,

living is too hard to do,

It's chances not choices,

noises not voices,

a day's just a thing to get through,

yes living is too hard to do.

mugrug @ 2006-12-08T17:19:00

2006-12-08T07:19:13Z

After a pill and copious amounts of alcohol last night, I thought it would be a great idea to try G. Then again, after a pill and copious amounts of alcohol almost everything feels like a good idea.

So there I was. Sitting naked on a couch with two other boys watching porn somewhere in Kings Cross when it was offered to me. I was assured it'd be fine, and my curiousity for the unkown and perhaps longing for an insight into what Nathan felt in his final hours led me to give it a shot.

I remember feeling so fucking amazing as it came on. Making out violently and touching like a loved-up crazy person as the world cartwheeled around me. After that my memory goes blank. Apparently I passed out, waking up briefly to puke everywhere.

I woke up a few hours later with no idea what was going on and vague recollections of the night before. Then again, I'm kind of used to waking up in strangers' houses by now. (Yet another unfamiliar ceiling.)

A brush with death? Hardly anything so dramatic. Yet I do feel that Nathan was in a good place when he went and that if he was as out of it as I was, he probably wouldn't have noticed his own passing (ceasing?). So I'm glad, in a way.

In the cab ride home I just started crying. Staring out the window at nothing in particular, thinking about nothing in particular. Perhaps tears of happiness at a feeling of closeness to someone long gone. Or perhaps just an overwhelming sense of stupidity for doing something when I know the risks too well. Either way I'm glad for the experience.

mugrug @ 2006-12-05T22:52:00

2006-12-05T12:52:47Z

If only I could write here what i have been upto.

If only i could tell you all what I've been doing, the experiences I've had...

Perhaps one day I'll write a book and show you all what a strange place this world can be.

There's a fine line between polygamy and polyamoury and here I am straddling it with a grin. I really don't want to hurt anybody, but also don't want to feel limited. There's not enough love in the world. I just like to find as much of it as possible before it has gone forever.

Off to Tamworth from the 19th-27th. Hope to catch up with everyone while there. Give me a call or msg me on here and we'll organise something.

mugrug @ 2006-11-11T20:22:00

2006-11-11T10:22:21Z

I found out today that jon (jerkbox) was hospitalised last night with a fractured skull, broken knee, nose and various other injuries.

I got off work early at 4 to go and see him. He ended up being in theatre till 8 o'clock. Getting his knee reconstructed and having his face operated on.

He looks fucking awful, both eyes are swollen and purple, his face a mass of bandages. Just looking at him made me want to cry.

I only ended up staying with him for like half an hour cos he started to drift off to sleep so I thought it'd be best to leave him be.

Apparently he was quite drunk at the wedge and fell over on the sidewalk upon leaving. I don't care how drunk someone is, there's no fucking way you can do that much damage from falling over. Either someone's laid into him really fucking badly or he's stumbled in front of a car who just kept going. He doesn't remember what happened.

He's at RPAH, probably until at least wednesday. I felt really bad leaving him with noone around. His own mother isn't coming to see him till tomorrow. Completely slack. I know if i were like that my mum would be down as soon as she could, just like she was after Nathan died. Jon's mother can't be bothered coming in from Blacktown. Fucking awful.

If anyone wants, give me a call in the morning and I may get a bunch of people to go visit him and wish him well before we get too heavily involved in the Newtown festival. I can't think of anything worse than lying in a hospital by myself with none of my friends/family around.

mugrug @ 2006-11-09T10:22:00

2006-11-09T00:22:46Z

ZOMG.

I blame Laura for all this ZOMGing of late. Damn her and her evil geekfluence.

I have a psychology exam today. Yay! I love exams... simply for the fact that I hate studying so much that I decide to reward myself with MOUNDS OF CHOCOLATE while I'm doing it. MMmmm... soo much chocolate has been eaten, I feel sick, in an excitable exammy kind of way.

It's a 100 question multiple choice exam to be completed over two hours. Piss easy, right? I keep being told that it'll be one of the hardest exams I've ever done. It all seems fairly simple. Though I never actually bothered to buy the textbook or go to many of the lectures, but it's all good! As long as they don't ask for names and dates I'm fine (though they probably will... even though that really has nothing to do with the theories we study... stupid examiners.)

*splooshes!*

mugrug @ 2006-11-08T12:57:00

2006-11-08T02:57:53Z

I should be studying, so instead I filled out a Jesus quiz in an innappropriate way and sent it back to the religious group that requested it.

The simple act of sincerely asking Jesus to come into your life makes your relationship with God secure. You've embarked on a life of adventure with all-loving, all-powerful God.

So what happened when you invited Jesus into your life?

1. Christ forgave your sins. "Christ sacrificed His life's blood to set us free, which means that our sins are now forgiven. Christ did this because God was so kind to us." (Ephesians 1:7 CEV). When you trusted Christ for the forgiveness of your sin, all your sins were forgiven...past, present and future.
What difference do you think it makes to know that all of your sins have been forgiven?

It means I can sin all I want without retribution. On the contrary side, so too can everybody else. Morality is moot and we are cast into darkness.

Thanks jesus!

2. Christ made you a child of God. "But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name -- children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God." (John 1:12, 13).
What did you do to become a child of God?

Apparently God seems to have had his way with my mother without my father's consent.

Naughty jesus.

3. Christ came into your life and He will never leave you. (Christ speaking) "Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him." (Revelation 3:20).
a) Where is Christ right now in relation to you?

Coming... into.... me?

^_^

This bible really is a perverse book.

b) (Christ speaking) "Whoever comes to Me I will never drive away." (John 6:37) Under what circumstances might Christ leave you?

For not coming? I mean, that's a pretty high expectations... after a few drinks or if you're not really in the mood it can take a while to get there *sighs*

c) According to this, how many times is it necessary to receive Christ?

Since we're the ones coming it's necesary for him to recieve us I suppose. So I'd say none, Jesus just loves to get a bit. However, I think that's a little selfish so would recieve Christ in return if he asked and was gentle.

4. Christ gave you new life. "Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" (2 Corinthians 5:17). When you trusted Christ to be your Saviour and Lord, you began a new spiritual life. God will increasingly produce many new qualities in you as you grow in Him.
What do you anticipate will become new in your life?

A strange smell and the possibility of an STI? I mean, no offence but this jesus guy does seem to "be recieved" by a lot of people, and I dodn't think I've once heard him mention condoms. In fact, it's my understanding the church frowns upon such devices.

5. Christ gave you eternal life. "And this is the testimony; God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life. I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God so that you may know that you have eternal life." (1 John 5:11-13).
a) In who is the giver of eternal life?

God... is in... his son?

Now that's impolite at the very least.

b) Who has eternal life?

Whoever has God's son, according to this.

However, as I said earlier that many people having jesus would lead to STIs and a shortening of life. So I'd imagine.

c) Do you have the Son (Jesus)?

Well i haven't met the guy. He seems lovely though but I'm not sure if he's gay and I wouldn't want to impose. He did say a lot about loving thy brother and such though.

d) Do you have eternal life?

Well neither Jesus or God is in me at the moment, so it would seem not yet. But I hope eternal life comes lubricated.

e) When did eternal life begin for you?

To be honest I'm still uncertain as to the definition. Does it start merely at the act of penetration, or is it only when he comes in me? If we were to use a condom, would i still have eternal life?

6. Key Question: If you were to die tonight, how sure are you that you would spend eternity with God?

0%-25%

Eternity is a long time, and he doesn't seem like a one-man kinda guy. I don't think a long-term relationship would work out.
Please choose one. 0% - 25% - 50% - 75% - 100%

7. These wonderful benefits are based totally on Jesus Christ. None of them can be earned. You received them the moment you placed your faith in Christ.
Which of these five truths are especially meaningful to you now?

The very smutty content of this whole religion offends my quiet nature and reserved sesibilities. However, if this is what you truly believe then I respect your right to practice consensual sodomy with your Divinity. However I must request that no enforced buggery takes place upon my own person in the name of religion.

Because you've accepted Jesus, your relationship with God is secure. You are his child. He forgave your sins and gave you a new and eternal life. He will never leave you. When facing doubts about your decision, rely on the truths of the Bible and not on your feelings.

I expect an angry email in reply.

For some reason I just happened to be on poetry.com and entered a short poem in a competition. Apparently they want to publish it in a collection called "Immortal Verses." And is a semi-finalist in a competition in which i can win money. Yay! If I'd known that I can win money off these internet competitions I would have submitted more poems ^^

The publication seems to be a little bit Jesusy from the sounds of the letter. Although not overtly so, some of their comments just refer to the beauty and inspiration that comes from outside ourselves and whatnot.

Here's the poem:

New Zealand Sunrise

I see the Mountain far aloft,
Its grace and beauty shine and oft',
I wonder from which vantage best,
To seek the wonders of its crest.
Yet this mound I wish not to climb,
For from here is the most sublime
a feeling, when it's needed most,
To conquer makes that pang a ghost
So I'd prefer to sit and dream
Than lose forever what I see.

I actually wrote it about a boy I had a crush on... but whom sleeping with would have really fucked things up (which it eventually did... issues issues, nevermind.) See the metaphor, isn't it grand? Hehe. However, the publication also adds in the possibility of submitting a short prose passage describing the poem and the philosophical or personal meaning it has in your life, to be printed alongside it. I think I shall have to write that it's about TEH GAY-SEX0R!!!! Yay! Take that, beauty of creation!

Oh, and double yay. I'm now a published poet (well I already am... but this is an international publication... so it actually means something =P) ^^

mugrug @ 2006-11-07T21:49:00

2006-11-07T11:49:33Z

ZOMG.

I am a deviant, and I love it. You love it too. I know it.

The last couple of weeks have been so sordidly R-rated. Yet I'm still in the middle of my exams so haven't fully started my holiday adventures. Just testing the waters.

If you continue now on the path you have begun...

I want this to be the crazyiest holiday break ever. It's off to a good start.

Pip pip. Tally ho. Onwards and upwards and so forth.

mugrug @ 2006-10-26T08:06:00

2006-10-25T22:09:19Z

Yesterday my parott woke me up at 5am again. I took his entire cage and put him outside in the backyard.

It turns out he is actually able to open his door and get out and so he was missing for all of yesterday.

He managed to find his way back inside and into my bedroom to start squawking and wake me up yet again this morning.

He's trying to drive me mad. I bet he thinks it's funny.

I really, really hate that parrott. I need a pet that is either less cunningly intelligent, or less pure evil.

mugrug @ 2006-10-24T22:28:00

2006-10-24T13:30:56Z

Wow.

It's funny how sometimes people just drift into my life and then drift out again. I smile, and wave at their coming and going.

It's like passing glimpses through a car window. Seeing the sky reflected off tumultuous blue water, stretching to infinity. I tentatively put in my toe. Test the temperature. Stare through their transluscent depths and probe about till vision is lost in their murky depths. Occasionally a school of fish or bunch of seaweed may float into view and momentarily capture my attention. Though eventually it all flows on by.

Sometimes it would be better to take that leap of faith and dive in. Though if I were to do so, how would i know whether these particular waters were not filled with sharks, or barely submerged sunken wrecks. Or worse yet, what if the moment I take that leap into the shimmering blue its tides turn and it retreats from me and I am half-buried in the sand. It's not that I'm afraid of drowning, I'm more afraid of the heatstroke that would come from the water's evaporation.

Do I mind? He asks as I sunbake on his shore.

Of course not. What a silly question. As though people are possessions to be had and traded and stored away for later use.
And yet... I guess in many ways we are.

Do i want to own an ocean? It seems like too much responsibility for the likes of me. To sail the seven seas, where the wind doft blow my sails, a pirates life for me.Yarrghhh.

Drifting along with the people whom I come across. Drilling small holes in my boat in the hope that the water may rush up an engulf me and take me to the depths. A captain always goes down with his ship.

Though perhaps I'd like to sink my ship of Rosseau and plant my flag firmly in the seabed claiming "this is mine, all you be damned." Just so I can change my mind and give it back again.

Eh, too tired to try to maintain too-obscure metaphors.

My bird, Copper. Whom is the bastard child of Dam-o the Deranged, bequethed to me at the dissolution of our last household. Is driving me nuts. It woke me up at 5 am with its nerve-splitting calls. So i promptly took it out of its cage and threw it out the door. Several hours later i went outside to find him sitting in a nearby bush looking confused. I felt bad and put out my arm so he could step back on and be brought back inside. I hate the bastard but something about him makes him family... I just can't cast him aside.

Though if he wakes me up tomorrow I will be having parrot pancakes for breakfast.

If anyone has a great love of asshole parrots and the time to make him loved then please let me know. Before he ends up a new feather boa.

mugrug @ 2006-10-23T11:52:00

2006-10-23T12:04:41Z

Sometimes I pray I don't die
I'm a God-damned hypocrite
But then night rolls around and it all starts making sense
there's no right way or wrong way
you just have to live
and so I do what i do and at least i exist
What could mean more than this?

You know you're getting emotional when you feel the urge to quote Bright Eyes lyrics.

I need to be taken away from my life, if just for a while. I need to be someone else and do other things. I need to fall in love and do crazy impulsive things and not have to worry about trying to get enough rest to stop myself from wanting to sleep through the day.

I've lost who I am, or perhaps just who I was. Time to rediscover and reinvent. As it stands there is too little to love. Too little to grasp and hold. I need to search for solidity.

mugrug @ 2006-10-22T17:11:00

2006-10-22T07:08:57Z

Friday night I went drinking at the Executive lounge at the Mariott. Cale was working there so he plied Louise and I with copious amounts of free alcohol. My favourite kind! Shots of vodka, bourban, gin and bicardi. I must have had like 15 shots. So drunk.

Afterwards Louise and I wandered down to Hyde park. Blissfull semi-conscious drunken conversations lying on the grass. When cale finished work we went down and met him near the war memorial. Some guys who were standing around there started up a conversation with us. They were nice and all was well until one of them punched me. I was way too drunk to really register what was happening... just kind of realised I'd been hit by someone and started walking away wandering why. My memory from then on is kind of blotchy. I remember being on the ground and getting kicked and punched whilst trying to stop them from taking things out of my pocket. It seemed as though it only took an instant and as soon as I looked up two police officers were standing over me and a few random guys who i assume had come and helped. They had managed to take my wallet, and hit Cale as well and stole his bag with his laptop in it. Cale was alright, and apart from a slightly bloody nose and sore jaw so was I. No major damage done. Just surprise and drunken amusement.

We ended up sitting in the police station for 3 or 4 hours while Cale filed a report, Louise and I were still too drunk to file one ourselves. The police asked us to describe the people, and there was no way that I could remember what they looked like. However they had it all on film from cameras in the park and arressted the group. Apparently the guys had a whole heap of wallets, ipods and phones on them, and had been rolling people all night. Luke showed up at the police station to keep us company. I ended up starting to feel really sick and the guys drove me home.

Fotunately Cale ended up getting his laptop back. No sign of my wallet though. I didn't have much cash in there, Just need to replace all my cards... which is inconvenient, but not too bad. The whole thing could have been a lot worse than it was. At least they didn't take my phone... that would have been very annoying. I'm more annoyed that I missed out on a night clubbing with friends than that I got beaten and robbed. In fact I kind of find the whole thing kind of funny. Extreme drunkness often leads to fits of laughter after being beaten on the ground.

And awful, awful hangovers...