Equinophobia
[Most Recent Entries]
[Calendar View]
[Friends]
Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
fearofhorses' LiveJournal:
[ << Previous 20 ]
| Thursday, May 17th, 2007 | | 9:47 pm |
Disguises
I am sorry that the rich man must go and his house become a hospital. I loved his wine, his contemptuous servants, his ten-year-old ceremonies. I loved his car which he wored like a snail's shell everywhere, and I loved his wife, the hours she put into her skin, the milk, the lust, the industries that served her complexion. I loved his son who looked British but had American ambitions and let the word aristocrat comfort him like a reprieve while Kennedy reigned. I loved the rich man: I hate to see his season ticket for the Opera fall into a pool for opera-lovers. I am sorry that the old worker must go who called me mister when I was twelve and sire when I was twenty who studied against me in obscure socialist clubs which met in restaurants. I loved the machine he knew like a wife's body. I loved his wife who trained bankers in an underground pantry and never wasted her ambition in ceramics. I loved his children who debate and come first at McGill University. Goodbye old gold-watch winner all your complex loyalties must now be borne by one-faced patriots. Goodbye dope fiends of North Eastern Lunch circa 1948, your spoons which were not Swedish Stainless, were the same colour as the hoarded clasps and hooks of discarded soiled thereapeutic corsets. I loved your puns about snow even if they lasted the full seven-month Montreal winter. Go write your memoirs for the Psychedlic Review. ... You comfort me incorrigible betrayers of the self as I salute fashion and bring my mind like a promiscuous air-hostess handing out parachutes in a nose dive bring my buthered mind to bear upon the facts. - Leonard Cohen | | Sunday, April 29th, 2007 | | 10:15 pm |
Poen
My mind seems to go out on a path the width of a thread and of endless length, a thread that is the same color as the night. Out, out along the narrow highway sails my mind, driven by curiosity, luminous with acceptance, far and out, like a feathered hook whipped deep into the light above the stream by a magnificent cast Somewhere, out of my reach, my control, the hook unbends into a spear, the spear shears itself into a needle, and the needle sews the world together It sews the skin onto the skeleton and lipstick on a lip It sews scarves onto mountains, it goes through everything like a relentless bloodstream, and the tunnel is filled with a comforting message, a beautiful knowledge of unity All the disparates of the world, the different wings of the paradox, coin-faces of problem, petal-pulling questions, scissors-shaped conscience, all the polarities, things and their images and things which cast no shadow, and just the everyday explosions in the street, this face and that, a house and a toothache, explosions which merely have different letters in their names, my needle pierces them all, and I myself, my greedy fantasies, everything which has existed and does exist, We are part of a necklace of incomparable beauty and unmeaning - From Ch 9 of "Beautiful Losers", by Leonard Cohen | | Thursday, April 26th, 2007 | | 7:39 pm |
Dust gathers within four walls
Dust gathers within four walls. Underneath cupboards, bed-side tables, on record players, Venetian blinds, discarded letters, CD jewel cases, books, bookshelves. It forms an inky paste on the windowsill, turns windows into frosted glass and cobwebs into stalactites. It gathers on shoeboxes, jacket collars, medicine bottles, wooden ornaments, picture frames. But always within four walls. Without enclosure, dust is not dust, but particles in flux; Stagnant air breeds dust and dust breeds complacency . Dust – this truncheon word embodying both noun and verb. Co-habiting homes with houseproud clones. For like a roof needs four walls, so does dust. - April 13, 2007 | | Sunday, April 22nd, 2007 | | 3:36 pm |
| | Saturday, November 25th, 2006 | | 8:30 pm |
In brief:
"So then we blamed it all on the dog..." "Sorry, which way is it to Oxford Street?" "BRANGELINA!" "Those shoes would never cut it in Florence" "If you catch AIDS I'm blaming it on Brian" "Don't worry, we only stole the tampons." | | Monday, November 20th, 2006 | | 4:07 pm |
Yesterday
7:00. B's alarm clock goes off. I wake up with a headache, realise I am in B's bed after getting drunk with him and his housemates the night before. I ask him to set his alarm for 8 o'clock and then go back to sleep. 8:00 Wake up feeling 100 times more lively. Pull clothes on, find keys, mp3 player, wallet, and walk home. On the way home, realise I would be happy never seeing B again. Resolve to call and tell him this later. 8:25 Quick shower, no time for breakfast. Pull on clothes. Leave house looking like a wet cadaver. Pull on belt and tie while walking to work. 9:05. Arrive to work on time (almost)! 9:00-3:00 Attempt to stay awake. Eat nothing but a mandarin. 3:00-4:00 Excursion to DIMA. Argue with people there. Don't get what I want. Disgruntled. 4:00 Stop by basement books. Pick up: - David Malouf - Remembering Babylon - Truman Capote - Breakfast at Tiffany's - Leo Tolstoy - The death of Ivan Ilych 4:15 Awful belated lunch at "Ogalos". 5:00 Finish up at work, quick costume change. 5:10-5:30 Catch bus along Broadway, listening to Gavin Bryars' "Jesus' Blood Never Saved Me Yet". 5:40-6:15 Beer at the rose with T. T. 6:30-8:15 Chris Masters in conversation with HG Nelson at the Seymour centre. Interesting, but doesn't inspire me to buy a copy of "Jonestown". 8:30 Arrive home. Have one sausage for dinner. 8:35 Briefly consider going to see Kings of Leon DJ set at Candy's Apartment. Then catch sight of my face in a window and remember how tired I am. 8:40-9:30. Drink white cask wine from a plastic cup. 9:30. Collapse in bed. | | Wednesday, November 15th, 2006 | | 6:49 pm |
I saw your photograph
Inspired by The Postmarks, I've written a Manilow-esque pop song entitled "I saw your photograph". A lyrical excerpt. I had an idea we'd be good friends But good intentions weren't enough (in the end) You can't articulate what you need I wore my feelings on my sleeve And now you won't even talk to me It's clear as the blue sky That I could never hope to change your mind But I'll keep hitting my head on the wall 'Cause you still occupy my thoughts | | Monday, November 6th, 2006 | | 9:03 am |
household upheaval
Given that we'll shortly have a spare room in our place, we were auditioning new housemates over the weekend. The response was pretty impressive - Lu put the ad online about lunchtime Saturday, and by last night we'd had 6 or 7 people come through. So far everyone has been fairly normal. Although there was this one person who responded by email to Lu with this (and I'm paraphrasing here): "I am much interested in your room, but have four requirements: 1) Must be close to an Asian supermarket 2) Room must be quiet for studying 3) No loud parties 4) No gays" She wrote back saying "No on all counts", which I think is pretty succinct. Though, does anyone have a better suggestion for how we could have replied? | | Sunday, October 29th, 2006 | | 4:43 pm |
A textbook example of bad taste
Honestly, what sort of a human being gives somebody a copy of this CD on the same day they break up with them?  I think Helen put it best when she said: "Where do you find these people?" ---------------------------------------- ------------------------------------- Endnote: Here's a sweet, somewhat relevant song. Have a listen while it's still downloadable (thanks Stereogum). The Postmarks - Goodbye (mp3) Current Mood: bemused | | Sunday, August 27th, 2006 | | 12:38 am |
How many restaurants do you think there are in central Sydney?? 1000?? 2000?? It doesn't really matter. The point is that he walked into the same one that I was having dinner at. With his new slam-piece in tow. They ate at a table five metres from ours. We didn't so much as acknowledge each other. ..... Words fail me. | | Tuesday, June 27th, 2006 | | 12:59 am |
best week ever
update: WORST WEEK EVER*ok, so it's actually nine days. bite me. done... Friday: Drinking with Bron at Sandringham / on to a party nearby / tea drinking Saturday: Lu's 21st (not gay at all) Sunday: Sleeping. Long breakfast with jeremy. 'nuff said. Monday: Dinner / trivia / drinks with old school friends. Spoke to best mate from primary school for the first time in 3+ months. Bumped into d- at bar broadway before the start of the soccer (eg before I left) and we swapped anecdotes about our old manager. and to do... Tuesday: Sake drinking / post-exam cookup with hel'. Wednesday: Off to central coast with housemates and leon.
Thursday: Back from central coast. Drinking with ryan and canadians.
Friday: Drive home to spend some quality time with cats / fill backpack with clothes / back into city for usyd band night & maybe abercrombie / hopefully leon stays over. Saturday: flight tonightSomewhere in there I'll be fitting in 24 hours of work as well... but let's not talk about that. *Who said I was no good with melodrama? | | Monday, May 22nd, 2006 | | 11:53 pm |
In the early stages of my most recent infatuation, I drew up a list of pros and cons. Bad Points:Possible liberal voter Listens to James Blunt Goes to James Blunt concerts Wears logo t-shirts Lacks basic social skills Studies accounting Is a member of the law society Has predictable taste in books Purchased a mardis gras ticket Does things "because they'll look good on the CV". Is a bit awkward Eats friands Good Points:Good Looking. Of course, I pursued him nonetheless. | | Friday, March 17th, 2006 | | 1:12 pm |
"on vacation"
i'm not really sure who reads this any more... but just letting y'all know that I'm heading on holiday tonight for two weeks, so don't be offended if I don't reply to sms's or emails. As for now... I really should think about packing. | | Saturday, January 21st, 2006 | | 12:48 am |
Yes, it's been a while since I've updated here, but I have been in Tasmania for some of that time. Tassie was great... falls festival, beach, hiking and most importantly we managed to avoid the most disgusting period of the heatwave (on new years day I was in port arthur shivering on a windy 19 degree day). In other news, I've been accepted into the uni course I missed out on two years ago. This is going to mean living in Sydney permanently, making new friends, figuring out a different system of online subject enrolment (shudder), but I think it'll be worth it eventually. It was disturbingly easy to switch out of my course at Wollongong... apparently all I need to do is just not enrol in any subjects this semester. (Sigh) After two years I'd thought they might have been just a little grudging to let me go, but nope. Of course this called for a celebration last night. So I went over to my mate's new place in Glebe for a 10-person game of cluedo (it was Miss Scarlet in the billiard room with the rope) then on to some Irish pub, where cheap drinks were had. I guess that seeing as this is MY online journal, I can indulge a bit and record some of the minutiae of my life. So here it is: Firstly, the other week I picked up a copy of Van Morrisson's Astral Weeks album at a record fair for $5. This is more than I'll usually spend on vinyl, but it has proved to be well worth the investment. Beautifully written and performed, and a must-have for anyone who plays the bass. Also, I just finished watching the film (from the 50s, I think) All About Eve. This, I would also recommend highly, though I found the last scene to be laughably unnecessary. NB. I've noticed my spelling is worse than it was when I was 13. How depressing. I blame spell-check. Current Mood: mildly apprehensive | | Tuesday, December 20th, 2005 | | 6:57 pm |
intro (writer's block)
...and though I'll try to win your affections with false modesty it's really not that hard To pull my songs apart. I find it tough 'cause my vocabulary's not enough To get me past this wall Or frame my thoughts at all. So I'll just sit here helpless knowing not what to do While all my best ideas Dissolve into the atmosphere I hope one day my writer's block breaks And the words will flow like wine Onto the page, in phrases ornate. But until that day rolls by I'll keep looking for words to do the tune justice but it's true that a blank sheet of paper isn't much of a muse. I wish I could paint a self-portrait like Rembrandt, with nothing but a ballpoint pen in my hand. I need words to do the tune justice 'cause I'm through hearing cliches ruin the melodies I use. Still it's hard to find a way to capture on a page the ideal commentary for an ideal day. Now I'm sounding egocentric So I'll change my point of view and put the focus back on you. Do you need a drumbeat To organise your thoughts? Or can you make do with some major chords? At the end of my career I'd rather not have to say I wrote dozens of records, with different names But they all sound much the same. I'll keep looking for words to do the tune justice but it's true that a blank sheet of paper isn't much of a muse. I wish I could paint a self-portrait like Rembrandt, with nothing but a ballpoint pen in my hand. I need words to do the tune justice 'cause I'm through hearing cliches ruin the melodies I use. Still it's hard to find a way to capture on a page the ideal commentary for an ideal day. | | Monday, December 5th, 2005 | | 10:56 pm |
poor old grandad
Yes, I know this thing is long overdue for an update... but seriously, who has the time??
I think I'll just take the easy option and paste in my most recent msn conversation.
andy says:
didn't you travel all over europe this year? stop whinging
luke says:
lol yeah but i still dont wanna be aloone and bored on new years
andy says:
you should hang out with all the cool indie kids at the purple sneakers NY bash
luke says:
or not
luke says:
ill prolly end up working or somthing. im sure somomone is hitting the cronulla beach walk party thing
andy says:
ek! you've gotta escape the shire for new years
luke says:
i know i know
andy says:
oh, i have a new favourite song
andy says:
the faces - ooh la la
luke says:
why is it your new fav song
andy says:
it's just a lovely acoustic hillbilly-ish song
andy says:
plus it's on the soundtrack to rushmore... a film I love
luke says:
haha
luke says:
hillbilly
luke says:
i fully want some man action now
andy says:
how did reading the word "hillbilly" get you primed for some pole-in-hole activity?
luke says:
lol well somthing about rednecks gets me goig a little bit. i dont know why. i think it's that dumb butch thing
andy says:
I bet you put out for truckers
luke says:
haha i would give it a go maybe somtime
luke says:
maybe Current Mood:  chipper | | Saturday, October 29th, 2005 | | 1:08 pm |
White ninja puts a wiffle ball on a pylon
I just can't get enough of this fabulously awesome webcomic.  This may seem like a strange segue but, well, Leonard Cohen is also great. I said to hank williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank williams hasn’t answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the tower of song
I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the great beyond
They tied me to this table right here
In the tower of song Current Mood: altruistic | | Thursday, October 6th, 2005 | | 6:17 pm |
After efforts of the past fortnight, my "to read" list is now looking slightly less intimidating: Franz Kafka - America
Albert Camus - The Outsider
Jack Kerouac - On the roadHomer - The Iliad Ken Kesey - One flew over the Cuckoos' nestStephen Crane - The Red Badge of Courage Evelyn Waugh - Scoop / Brideshead revisitedWilliam S. Burroughs - JunkyJames Joyce - Dubliners Sun Tzu - The art of war | | Sunday, October 2nd, 2005 | | 9:38 pm |
I've been sorting through piled up stuff in my room today... to divert my attention from other things. In the process I've found some embarrassing / amusing stuff. Whoever knew I started (but didn't finish) writing a musical back when I was 15... I'd certainly forgotten. Here's the lead song-and-dance number from the one act that I finished: The Suburban PunkIt's not easy to be a punk When I'm a branch on the suburban trunk Other kids wear faded jeans and a smile Sun-tanned robots but they're in denial And I'm aware that I don't fit in Pick up my clothes from a bargain bin Dye my hair to stick out from the crowd My parents complain when I play my heavy-metal too loud. Well I may look tough but I still can cry When a clump of mascara falls into my eye. I'm the only kid on my street With a pierced tounge, black boots on my feet Can't understand why everyone is the same Middle-class clones allergic to change I'll wear my best torn pants tonight Mum has ironed them they're looking nice I'll get to the punk club and meet up my friends Be individual together as we bang our heads. Well my hair is black but my skin is white And I scare little kids when I'm out at night But I still can cry When a guitar pick gets thrown in my eye. | | Monday, September 19th, 2005 | | 10:25 pm |
|
[ << Previous 20 ]
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1){kind=small}
fearofhorses's journal