Avian flew, Canined is temper

Today:

I walk through a park that I call “lunchpark” in my head but only “the park” if anyone asks. I skim stones on a small lake with a central island. I sling a shale piece and it beams by the island’s north bank. After I throw it, or perhaps during or before, a black swan emerges from the rushes, silently aglide. I watch as the swan sustains the stone’s pelt below its right eye, perfect and rough. I study the continuing stillness of the water, as the swan’s ornate frame inverts. It extends a single black wing skyward in an ugly keeling ballet and when its red webbed-feet appear only one of them kicks as its body sinks to a shallow and silty silence. And I see no other swans to mourn it.

So I continue skimming. I never hit another swan, but I get a marsh hen.

I walk back past lunching ladies and spooning couples, my pockets full of shale and my arm hydraulic, and they don’t fear me one bit.

Tonight:

From the street I hear a loud thud, meshed with a yowling yelp, followed by a grinding skid, deceasing under an idling modern diesel. More idling, then tyre shriek and engine rumble, motoring once more back to silence. I don’t look out the window.

Sometimes two bodies enter the one space. They may meld and harmonise, or they may be immediately repelled. Sometimes a death occurs.

Take care when colliding.

-Yuri

Hello blog

I haven't written here for a long time.

To read these words, I wonder if I ever did.

Has anyone missed me?

I'm fine, thanks for asking.

I'm a bit confused by it all is all, that's all.

Last time I wrote here it made some things clear, though some things were things I didn't want you to hear.

But I'm back for me, and maybe for you.

To see what I can't unpeel.

If you read this, then that's nice. If you can sift through my blurtings and blatherings and blah, I hope you will find something of substance. Either in me or in yourself. Or perhaps in this blog; our extra-textual connection.

I don't think many nurses write blogs like this. That makes me smile.


-Yuri

From last night to now

Something about a glass darkly.
My thoughts, for now, are my own hardly.
Dripping tap and branch-tip-pane-scrape-squeal sharply.
The way forward, the way forward.
New sheets on the same bed, new hand on the same knife (is this?).
What's a dog doing outside my window, it has no business?
I'm making pasta, I'm drinking protein thickness.
The way forward, the way forward.
The sun passes faster, my twinkle-toes twitch best.
There's people skipping gaily without a thought for their ankles, or a thought for their necks.
I don't really have to wait for approbation's dispense.
The way forward, the way forward.
Short days now, I see that, I'm watching from outside,
Taking my time for an aphasic dibasic debasing joyride,
The dirty and diphtheritic the grounds for my eye,
The way forward, the way forward.
Who's that your sister, who's that your wife?
I said "protein booster" do I have to say it twice?
Yank jerk snatch wrench grab back the night.
The way forward, the way forward.
It is stupidly obvious that this all should have ceased,
The sore orb fallen, my brow still creased,
There's a new black coming, fresh shame ensheathe,
The way forward, the way forward.


-Yuri

LeBoite's Heart

1.
Hello. My name is Gordon LeBoite. I hope you can believe that much because that's a safe baseline of plausibility to which this tale may never return.
I awoke the other morning to find that the organ of my heart was no longer in my body. It had been extracted during the night by the errant burst of an interstellar tractor beam, and it had found it's way into the vast recesses of outer space. I thought it was a dream, but I awoke to find two heart-shaped holes, one in my chest and one in the window pane next to my bed. I took a shower and tried not to get water in my heart hole. But water has a way of wending where it's not wanted, and it was obvious that I could either seal up this silly thoracic excavation and quit my whining, or I could win my heart back.
And so it was that that morning, I flew into space.


2.
I didn't go into space. And I didn't have a hole in my chest, although I did wear two jumpers and that made my torso feel strangely constricted as I rode my bike around to see you. You said if I wanted to see you I could, and I did want to see you, but I knew you would be disappointed to see me. The great thinga bout the universe is the sense it makes. The geometry and the rhythm and the design. But you pushed it all of its axis. In that night before when you said the sentence "I think you and I, together, have done all we need to do." You said I could ask you questions if I wanted. I asked you what I would dream about that night, and you smiled and said "heartbreak, I guess."


3.
Hello.
My name is Gordon LeBoite and I am an astronaut. I'm quite good at zero-g exercises and I'm into vitamin supplements in a huge way. On a daily basis I liaise with intergalactic communities, encounter bizarre lifeforms and cruise around in my sweet rocket. My officially chartered space mission is the retrieval of my own heart, now a wanted space fugitive, but these days the case has run cold and I mostly just patrol some of the old leads and otherwise just check stuff out and observe. I do like it out in space. It's quiet, there's moments of genuine awe, and a lot of peace. Most days, I hope I never find that heart of mine. But sometimes I think it might be nice.


-Yuri

Show Yourself

Ok, ok. I've got to come clean about something. Things.

Sometimes I imagine pushing strangers under trains.
Sometimes I punish myself and keep it secret.
Sometimes I feel good when other people look foolish. (Like when they are quizzed about their use of the word "schadenfreude", and it is revealed that they don't really know what it means.)
Sometimes I lie. That's a lie. I lie often. (That's the truth.)
Sometimes I think I'm more special than other people.
Sometimes I waste fresh food by forgetting to eat it before it putrefies.
Sometimes I waste my talents.
Sometimes I try to make my thigh touch the thigh of the person next to me on public transport.
Sometimes I pull malicious faces at babies in prams. (Usually they laugh.)
Sometimes I pretend to be deaf.
Sometimes I eat a whole block of chocolate.
Sometimes I eavesdrop.
Sometimes I use disabled toilet facilities.
Sometimes I pretend to know more than I do.
Sometimes I wish I was in a fist-fight.
Sometimes I do things that are innocuous.
Sometimes I don't warn people before I hurt them.
Sometimes I do things that really hurt people.
Sometimes I hold a life in my hands and I don't value it very highly at all.


Does anyone out there know me? Has anyone seen me? This is all so anonymous, it feels like a lie. My vanity makes me desperate to have you thinking I'm unique. But really I'm just another person. I'm in my late twenties, living on my own in a one-bedroom thing on the edge of a city. But does anyone know who I really am? Anyone?
Could you have seen me? We might shop at the same supermarket.
Am I ringing any bells? Maybe you saw me hide something when I thought you weren't looking.
Do you know who I am? Maybe I'm that person who watched you cry from afar, but you didn't care at the time.
Can you picture me? I could be the one you always wonder about on the tram. Maybe you've even been building up the courage to talk to me. Maybe you think I look nice.
Maybe I work with you. Maybe I'm in your family. Maybe I'm in your bed.

I'm not in your bed. I'm in my own bed, typing this post.
Good night.


I hope dearly that you and I will see each other soon.
Really see each other. In a way neither of us ever imagined.
Soon.


-Yuri

Some Things are Addictive

Four New Jersey wiseguys in the back room of a strip joint.

1 - So dyou hear about Insy Winsy?
2 - Who the spider, what'd he do?
1 - What so you didn't hear about this?
2 - Nah I didn't hear what'd he do?
1 - Tell him Pauly.
3 - He climbed up the waterspout.
2 - Oh shit, are you shittin me? Insy Winsy?
1 - No shit.
2 - What happened then?
1 - Tell him Pauly.
3 - Down came the rain.
2 - The rain? A spider like Insy, what'd that do to him?
3 - It washed the spider out.
2 - Oh man. Was he married, did he have kids or anything?
1 - Nah this aint over yet, get this, tell him Pauly.
3 - Out came the sunshine-
2 - What and that dried up the rain?
1 - Absolutely it did.
3 - It dried up all the rain.
2 - Oh man, that's a hell of a thing. You think you seen it all.
3 - And Insy Winsy Spider -
2 - What, you're fuckin with me, he aint done?
1 - He's still got the big finish.
2 - This is a hell of a thing, what happened?
1 - Tell him Pauly.
3 - He climbed up the spout again.
2 - Oh no he didn't!? He climbed it again? That's nuts, after all the business with the rain?
1 - No word of a lie.
2 - He's a hell of a spider. Thank you for sharing that, Sammy. Pauly, you too, thank you for that.
1 - No problem.
4 - Guys. I'm sorry. I'm out. I can't do this no more. You guys are great, but I gotta get out, I gotta change my life. All you guys do is tell these nursery rhymes, and that's cool, but I got a family now. I gotta think about becoming a seriously drug importer now and start spending time with my kid.
2 - Where you goin' Mikey?
1 - Whaddaya think you're doing Mikey?
4 - Guys it's nothin' personal I promise.
1 - You got a problem with the way we live our lives now Mikey?
4 - No it's not like that -
1 - Suddenly you're better than us is that it?
4 - No Sammy, really, I love you guys, but I got something else in my life -
1 - It's no that simple Mikey. Tell him Pauly.
3 - It's not that simple Mikey.
1 - Show him Joey.
2 - Hey Mikey? What did Miss Muffet do?
4 - C'mon guys don't make this harder -
2 - Miss Muffet, what did she do?
1 - Not so easy Mikey is it?
4 - She, She-
2 - She sat, she sat didn't she? And what did she sit on?
4 - She sat on a tuffet alright!? She sat on a goddamn tuffet!
1 - Oh yeah, and what was she eating Mikey?
4 - Please guys why are you doin this to me -
1 - Mikey!
4 - Curds and whey alright? She was eating her curds and whey, then along came a spider who sat down beside her and frightened Miss Muffet away goddammit...
1 - Hey hey Mikey don't cry.
4 - I thought I could just walk away, I hoped -
1 - Mikey. Hey. We're a family. Yeah we tell nursery rhymes, but we're a family, Mikey. You know that.
4 - Yeah I know that, Sammy.
1 - Say it Mikey, say we're a family.
4 - We're a family.
1 - You bet your ass we are. Joey, go get the Mother Goose book for Mikey.
4 - Hey thanks guys.
1 - Don't mention it Mikey. Don't mention it.


-Yuri

Shannon Noll told me to shine, so I'm giving it a go.

Breakfast is very important.
If I ever sleep too late, I just consign myself to my lateness rather than cutting morning corners, because breakfast is very important.
Poached eggs are good. Variations on the theme of muesli. Vegemite and Avocado on toast for variation. Juice and/or tea (I usually need to wee before too long but that, like lateness, is just another price to pay).
Breakfast is very important. Laying the foundations to build the skyscraper of your day. Putting your best food forward, fed.
Everyone deserves a good breakfast.

I should also exercise or work out more. Not because I need to be buff or cut or stacked or ripped or huge. More so I feel like I'm taking pride in my body. In a healthy way. It deserves to be in peak condition as much as any other, right? I should run. Everyone runs these days, you're a chump if you don't run, right? It's like: "Swallow your pride, chump. Run until you're fit and hot like the rest of us. But not because you need to show people that you're fit and hot. Yes, you'll start out looking pathetic and sweaty, but pretty soon you'll be like Matthew McConnaughey or Michelle Obama and everyone will flock to be around you. Not that that's why you're doing it, it's just so you can be healthy." Right?

Then there's mental health and all the rest.

This post is my positivity-post. Self-positivity. My spirulina-and-yoga-post.

I believe we do need to love ourselves if we're going to function properly. Not in any sort of born-again way, but we have to think that we're good enough to deserve a place in the world. That we're good enough to speak. Good enough to occupy the thoughts of other people. Good enough for spirulina. Sometimes I need to remind myself.

So allow me to say it to you.

You deserve to be here. You are unique. You have beauty in you. You have things to offer. You have helpful skills. You have desirable qualities. You are an interesting topic for conversation. You are the reason to throw a party. You are lacking nothing. You think fascinating thoughts. You should share those thoughts. You can make people happy. You should sit for a painting. You should write. You create light and music when you smile and when you dance. You contribute to the betterment of the world. You are you and you are amazing.

This might be a tawdry read, but it felt good to write. Alex Lloyd must feel this good everyday...


-Yuri

Gnus don't kill people

I was always very good at spelling.

I guess I have a bit of a word fervour/fascination/fetish. Reviewing this blog, I see it is time to admit this. Not in any literary way, and I'm certainly not an aspiring poet. I just dig words. Whimsical wordplays and heartrending ambiguities. On a toilet wall today I saw this beautiful bit of wordly wonder:
"My love, you have it all."
And my mind and guts went racing.
The epitome of romance? A cavalier critique of a wealthy person? A phrase uttered by an old wife offering her husband the last portion of cake? Or someone lost, devout and broken?

So sorry for the self-indulgence (the very nature of blogging, surely), but I thought I'd throw some words about on this post...

Here they are. Words:


I let my day fall away
I looked up to the moon
And I felt like something somewhere
Was completing

I head bedward nightly by lamplight
My night-sight is not so good you see

I've learned life should be light

Life should be light
Life should be lit
Life should be lighted on
And have lightness
Be set alight
Lighten
Then alight


A mouth unopened
Words unspoken

A harder ardour

No such profundity under me
As under-tree fecundity
I don't care to air the finer points


Solutions are liquid
As are spirits

I fell in a well
I felt sound
I fell still
I drowned in a well
I fell still
I felt both well and sound and also still


I look into her eyes and ice grips and plies
Her porcelain brow draws snow from the skies
Sleet stinging skin and frost flakes within
Driving a blizzard and biting my spine.
Imagine her at altitude.


-Yuri

Philosophy

Two pigeons perched on a wire.
One - Grandma Peggy, why is the earth brown and green?
Two - It just is, Little Desmond.
One - But why?
Two - Well, people used to think it was a reflective manifestation of light hitting the dirt and grass content of the earth.
One - Oh yeah?
Two - Some other people say it was to contrast our sky, which was already such a brilliant blue.
One - It is a brilliant blue.
Two - And some people think it's the colour left over from all the old branches and birds that have fallen down, dead and rotting.
One - Wow.
Two - But me I'm not so sure. I don't really know.
One - What do you think?
Two - I don't worry about it. Some things just are.
One - But why?
Two - Life is why.
One - ....
Two - Don't worry about it, Timmy.
One - I'm Desmond.
Two - You're cute is what you is.
One - Are you high, Grandma Peggy?
Two - Oh oh, am I high, am I high?
One - Grandma Peggy, you promised.
Two - What are you, you're, fa fa, you know what you're problem is, I feel a bit-
One - You're making me cry.
Two - Suck up a blast of this bad boy, Jo-Jo.
One - I'm not supposed to smoke your dope, Grandma Peggy.
Two - What are you, a poofy-girl? Hit that shit Billy.
One - I'm a child, Grandma Peggy.
Two - And we're both pigeons, so all rules are off, bitch. Pigeon don't gots no code, you wiener.
One - You're mean, Grandma Peggy.
Two - I'm- I'm mean? Do you really think-
One - Don't cry don't cry I just wanted to know about why the earth is brown and green. I guess sometimes it would be better for me to keep my curiosities to myself. But you mustn't cry, Grandma Peggy. Grandma Peggy? Are you sleeping? Oh God, God, Grandma Peggy, no, don't die Grandma Peggy. Don't die!
Two - ....
One - ....
Two - Ah, I'm just playing you, Little Desmond!
One - You scared me, Grandma Peggy!
Two - Do you want to go get some kugelhopf cake?
One - I think that would make everything better, yes.


-Yuri

Measured Mortality

Hello people,

I write this post in a room where second-youngest person is roughly twice my age. Two ladies are seriously discussing the apparently modern trend of fitted clothes that leave nothing to the imagination. Seriously. One of them has just asserted that it is likely the trend has come from France. I feel like this is too funny to be real. Too stereotyped for these people to be anything other than old hammy actors.

I feel comforted by my youth. I use it as an alibi for feeling insecure and making foolish choices. I think how happy I'll be when I'm fifty and I know longer worry about everything and I feel comfortable in my own skin. But what if that's a mirage? Perhaps I should poll this room full of sexa-/septa-/octogenarians and see how many among them are still riddled by the pains of existence.

Really I've just never known love.
Love would help I think.
Someone with balm for hands and words that say "You are not alone. I am here with you." But not Michael Jackson.
I administer drugs to fragile bodies on a daily basis. Bodies like the bodies in this room, and also like Michael Jackson.
It's like cleaning the windows on a house of cards.
What I'm saying is: I could kill someone today. If I had the inclination. Not that I'm saying that. You know, not that I'm saying Michael Jackson was killed.

Why do I need to know why leaves fall from trees? Their growth and their life are beautiful. They then litter footpaths with crispy golden goodness. But the most fascinating thing is the fall. The seconds in which the fall occurs. The sever, the fall, the stillness.

Death I've seen with my eyes. Love I've seen with my eyes. Surely a real experience of one or the other will visit me soon.

Is this a morbid blog? I'm sorry if it is.
The next post will be about slapstick and puppies. Promise.

-Yuri