So happy fucking australia day huh, I don't really see what there is to be so happy about. At every corner this evening I've met with disappointment. Mostly with people. Their decisions and actions. Lowering themselves in some cases by doing things that I would never thought to be part of their nature or just by being fucked up on drugs and alcohol. I haven't come home on the verge of tears for a long, long time but tonight just takes the fucking cake. And of course with the disappointment comes the intense loneliness. Do you know how horrible it feels to know that the only thing that could make everything good again in your world is hundreds of kilometres away? And speaking of my world, I must have been asked a million times "what's going on in your world Dan?" to which I would reply "the same old shit," because even if I had told the truth the chances of anyone honestly listening or caring would still amount to fucking zero. Fuck this. The past, my past, cannot be relived it seems. And it scares the shit out of me. I am so aimless and directionless. Like a satellite that has been pushed out of orbit and is just hurtling through space. I can't progress and I can't regress. So what do I do now? I come home in the wee hours of the morning and confess my misgivings to a fucking blog on some piece of shit website. This used to provide me with solace but all I feel is sadness and anger. All I feel is betrayed and empty. And to anyone that feels they deserve this from me, fuck you.

People have been asking me what my status quote means on my myspace page, it's some lines from a song called 'Follow You Down' by the Twilight Singers and is off of their album Blackberry Belle. Greg Dulli is one of my personal heroes. The song itself is simple and beautiful and means a great deal to me for sentimental reasons. Here's the full lyrics:

Follow You Down - By The Twilight Singers

Get the wheel, let’s go for a ride
if you’re trouble then I’ll follow you down
last night I saw the strangest light
I wanna see it again.

I’m wide awake
somebody put a gun in my face
"go ahead," I said "erase".

Get the wheel, let’s go for a ride
if you’re trouble, then I’ll follow you down
last night, last night was alright
I wanna see you again.

So here I am in the sleepy little hamlet of Casino. I figure I spent so much time being bummed out here when I was growing up that being here now is somewhat appropriate. I find myself wanting to be consumed by past vices just so I don't have to think. Some of the problem is boredom. Most of the problem is loneliness.

I am happy to say that I have an amazing group of friends looking out for me. There have been kind words, and stern words (when my more self destructive tendencies surface.) I do have an immense feeling of worth because of these people, my friends. It's hard not to spend so much time in my head now though. That's where most of my old problems would seed and then germinate because of my inability to communicate effectively. I don't really want to talk about things, but in the end that's what makes up most of the process of coming to terms with something.

I really have never missed someone the way I miss her now. I take solace in the fact that we parted because that's the way it had to be and not because I'd fucked up like so many other times in the past. I know that I'll see her again, and I have it on good merit that somewhere along the line we will end up together for good. But what to do in the meantime... There is something really unsettling about looking at a room full of attractive girls and realising that you would rather be somewhere else.

oh livejournal, how I have neglected thee...

I usually only post when I'm depressed, so taking into account the duration of my absence it seems that I've been happy for quite some time.

New, new, new....new housemates, new horizons, new possibilities. Moving sucks. I think Dave and Dale realise this. But the dynamic is good. The outlook is good. Forecast for next year in the household: Mostly fine with scattered showers.

I lived by myself for two weeks. In some ways it was good. In others it was intensely lonely. I lived very simply though. That was refreshing. I'd liken it (very loosely) to the life of some kind of fighting monk. The thought had crossed my mind that I could just leave everything and join a temple and just devote my life to training and meditation. Ah, what aspirations.

I am happy. But it is tainted somewhat by the thought that very soon, a significant part of what contributes to my happiness will no longer be in my life. I try to push the thought away, to keep it at bay by ignoring it, drowning it in laughter and alcohol. Beating it back with the creation of great memories. In the end I guess that memories are all we have.

I must try not to focus solely on the outcome. Because if that dominates my thoughts I will miss so many things now. Thats the saddest part. That something can consume you so much that it will blind you to everything good around you if you let it. It's getting harder and harder to try and be happy for that person. Especially when reminded of how "great" her decision is by friends and family. I've been told that when that conversation starts I get noticeably upset. And I do. It brings everything that I happily blur into sharp focus.

But, if I told her not to go, that would be my most selfish act. Her dreams lie underfoot and far be it from me to ever crush them. In the way of progress I am nothing. Especially if such progress is to better and advance someone on their lifes path. I'm not sure how it will all end. If it will be sad, or happy. Most likely both. Why not go out with a bang I say. If it can distract us from the problem at hand until it has run its course and is far beyond retrieval, then why not. I'll do the emotional mopping up in the months after.

I have to say that I am not looking forward to getting back into the "scene". The pubs, the clubs, the same old shit that I suffered when I was miserable. But thats my nature I guess. Old thick headed Dan. The most frequent traveller on the path that is not the one of least resistance. Who would have thought, me, the proverbial "ladies man" (and I do say that with tongue buried firmly in cheek) would shun his very roots. I can pretend though. I can "fit in". But after everything, I really don't want to.

But to focus on now, there is still time, and there is still many things left to do. If I can offer any advice (and this will sound cliche) but I have found a complacency within many couples. The thought that they will be together forever and thus have all the time in the world to do things together. In reality they don't. Many things can happen. And wasted time is the perfect breeding ground for regret. If this relationship has taught me anything it's the value of time and time spent. We do see each other because we want to, and we do as many things together as we can because we know that our time together is short. If I can impart any wisdom it's to make things count. The more good memories you can make the fuller your life will be. And it's those memories that fill me with warmth.

I don't know why I remembered this, I may have even dreamt about it. I have been thinking about it a lot lately though. It's the memory of the first time I ever found out what a razor blade was, not like one you would find on your shaving razor, the proper ones.

I think I was maybe four or five at the time and I was visiting my grandparents at their old house in johnson street, the one on the corner near the roundabout. It was summer I think. Mum was having a cup of tea or talking to my grandfather and grandmother, maybe some of my other relatives were there and I was wandering around the house as usual playing with all their cool old stuff. I went into the spare room where my sister and I slept when we stayed there and I can't remember if the old shoe box was already out or if I found it in the cupboard/drawers but that is neither here nor there. Inside the shoe box was a treasure trove of cool old things, I think a ball of string, knitting needles maybe, packets of normal sewing needles and various other stuff that time has blurred in my memory. The thing I found most interesting was the razor blade itself. I had never seen one before. It still had a paper sheath covering the actual blade part which slipped on and off. Of course me being so inquisitive I took the sheath off to examine the object. The blade was so shiny and at this stage I had no idea how sharp it actually was. I was touching the blade, passing it from hand to hand, having a great time playing with this new toy. Eventually I tired of it, replaced the sheath and put it back into the shoe box. After doing so, and getting up to leave the room, blood started to pour out of the myriad of little cuts all over my fingers and palms. The razor blade had been so sharp that I didn't even feel it cutting me as I played with it. I remember screaming and a lot of people came running. I just held up my hands as they chided me and cleaned the wounds, then applied about a million bandaids. There was so much blood for such tiny hands. I think they asked me what I was playing with to do such a thing to myself and I showed them. I think also that my grandfather got into trouble for the shoe box being so easily accessible.

I've seen a million images of razor blades since then and haven't even thought of that day. Maybe it was traumatic enough to repress for a while. Who knows. I wonder what stimuli forced it to surface now?

There are things that scare me. Things where the easiest way out is to just cash in your chips and say "fuck it, I had a good run." But in those situations you are invariably always left wondering "what if?" What if I had stayed that little longer, played one more hand, waited out the winter instead of fleeing towards the tropics?
There is a saying that I don't agree with. "When the going gets tough, the tough get going." Now take that in the sense that when things seem bleak the tough head for the hills. I would imagine that the tough would be too reticent to leave. For tough means (in my mind) durable, able to weather harsh beatings and still get back up for another round. But, I suppose that if you factor one's heart into that equation then I can understand that even the tough would not like to have their hearts broken.
And I can already hear a certain person's voice in my head telling me about the sour and the sweet. I know that it's going to hurt. A lot. And yet, I'm going to stick around. I want to experience what the captain see's when he goes down with his ship, what the recovery crew can only catch a glimpse of from the last few seconds of the black box recording. Nothing is set in stone yet, and the unknown still provides me with hope and excitement. It does still make me sad to think about it though.
Hah hah, "I am the patron saint of lost causes." Such words have never rang truer, but for once this cause actually has value. I could lay awake at night pondering the why's and how's of the universe. It's cruel joke of giving me something amazing and then forewarning me that it may not last. I could piss and moan. I could throw it all away just to save myself some pain. But i've never run from a fight in my life, even if I know that I'll lose.
So fuck it. Like always, when fate and circumstance have me backed into the corner ready to deal the final blow, I'll wink, spit blood in their faces and say "fuck you."

The car was loaded when I got the call, temporarily distracted by the glass in my thumb from the wheel, and then it goes off and I don't like this heat behind my eyes in front of the crowd. This is not what I wanted to hear right now but when has it ever shown any respect for those that are left behind. And I knew it was coming as soon as I heard her voice, now my stomach is even emptier than before and I have to drag myself through this again. And no, I dont want to sing before the black and the hole. Theres just so much work to be done and I'm distracted again. I'm falling asleep at the wheel. But I'll be dressed for the occasion and I'm sorry if I'm not interested in what the audience has to say, so lets all pretend we didn't hear a thing, we'll act like I'm okay and I'll ignore the gallery as they remark "who brought this stiff to dinner?"

Picture this, something like a metaphorical unraveling. Like a ball of twine that was once so tightly wound but is now rolling out in front of you. A ball of twine that you now have to catch quickly before you totally end up tangled in it. Now imagine the feeling of some stitches slowly coming undone at an inopportune moment. It's sad and unsettling isn't it.

"...one more time and I'll bite your fucking fingers off."

Haven't posted in a while. Not that there isn't any news, just that it's news thats personal and would not be appropriate to share with everyone. Sad things are happening.

I hate hospitals. I hate them so much. Every single time I walk into one I get nervous. In my mind they are synonymous with one thing. Unfortunately that one thing seems to be becoming a habit. Three people now. You have a vision in your head of what someone will look like. Or what you expect them to look like. It's never how you think. Never. And it hurts so much to be in the same room. It hurts so much to have to hold everything in because they don't even know. And they can't know. Because if they did they would just give up.

My mother is one of the strongest people I know. I have so much respect for her. In the face of such an awful event she was asked a question that I hope I will never be asked in my lifetime. And out of love she lied. I hope to be as strong as her. I'll have to go home again in a few weeks. Maybe less. It won't be happy. I'm praying for the first time in a long time. For real. For a miracle. No matter how slim the chances may be.

"It's a fight between my heart and mind, no one really wins this time..."

I miss so many people right now.

....my first somewhat happy post in a long while. I haven't written a decent blog for ages and I used to personally think that happy posts were somewhat trite. But after some deliberation I thought "you know what, fuck it. It's not like I'm shouting from the rooftops or anything."

So this weekend was a long one, but in the best way. There are so many things that I have missed that I got to feel and do. I love feeling wanted again. And I love being shown affection again. I love returning those gestures and making sure that a certain person feels special.
There was lots of lie ins, seeing movies (TRANSFORMERS!!!!!!), wandering around looking at nothing in particular, lots of take out, dvd's, video games, seeing bands, meeting new people, going out, dancing, visiting friends, driving around singing songs (and alternating parts mind you) and just generally being happy doing anything as long as that one person is there.

I really haven't felt so happy, content with or good about myself in so long. I used to wake up with a ball of anger in my chest every fucking day and now even that seems to have subsided. Everything is occurring organically and naturally. Nothing is forced. The level of comfort for such a short time is extraordinary. She knows all the things about me that I'm proud of and more importantly all the things that I'm not. She takes me for who I am and not what I was, and for that I am indebted to her.

It feels so good to have finally gotten to the end of all the bullshit that has occurred in my life. Though without it I would not have known the true meaning of value, I would not be who I am now, and I still would have been wandering aimlessly through the ether with no idea of what I was actually looking for.

So now from the end of one path I have started walking down another. And I hope that the path I'm on now is the longest ever.


P.S. -Many thanks to Sam and Karleigh for their subterfuge and good judgment also. ;)