Log in

A rain came and washed most of this away [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

“A 1920’s style Jazz song” [Dec. 31st, 2012|03:10 pm]
“A 1920’s style Jazz song”

Sung to the tune of “Nice work if you can get it” by George and Ira Gershwin and “I’m building up to an awful letdown” by Astaire and Mercer.

Love is simple, love is bland,
Love can give you any girls hand
But there’s something you can find,
If you find you’ve got the time..

Love takes you up to the highest cloud
And the deepest pits
~.It’s a wonder it still exists

When I’m in love, I am low,
And terribly slow
My heads a mess and all that surrounds me irrelevant!

Just give me one more look, at your charming face
Your loverly grace
And I’ll never disgrace..


I’ve all the time, and no time at all,
So why don’t you
Fall…. in….love….with….me….!!(crescendo)

To Peta

Happy New Year my to all my kind out there, not that you care
linkpost comment

Is the last mile the hardest mile? [Feb. 13th, 2012|12:32 pm]
Should I go out and meet the one that I love?
I left Carwatha College in Noble Park North before her family went East to Bairnsdale.
Of course they were not aware that an anorexic piece of shit was in perpetual love with their lovely daughter.
And now, she has had many lovers, out in those hills.
A photo on that FB thing shows two young things hanging over her shoulder with Jack Daniels in their horrid hands. In the desolate cliffs of god's knows where...

In the midst of life we are in death, etc..

linkpost comment

(no subject) [Jan. 16th, 2012|05:22 pm]
Mother and Father's anniversary. I will send them a book or a bottle of brandy.

Boredom and depression. It is strange that I can only feel such emotions when utterly alone. Sometimes they can be set off by dreams, and I will be deeply morose for a short while. And afterwards, long tracts of nothingness, horrible soulless half-life.

I have been drinking coffee, in place of wine. Wine makes me cry, and talk in false tones.

It is chilly outside, here in the Dandenong Ranges. I have been shut indoors all day, I will not go out. The only person I care about is my childhood love, there is no room, it seems, for any living person besides her, who I love utterly love and cannot imagine aged or dead.

Why is the pain of love so sweet, as Petrach knew?
link1 comment|post comment

Writer's Block: Night tremors [Oct. 28th, 2011|03:22 pm]

linkpost comment

A conscientious diarist [Oct. 1st, 2006|12:39 am]
I am a conscientious diarist.
link1 comment|post comment

[ viewing | most recent entries ]