the sky was a consuming pale blue, it wasn't bright but seemed to have a radiant quality to it. maybe it was because of the lack of clouds, leaving the blue to span uninterrupted from horizon to horizon. Jill lay back on the grass and took in the view, enjoying the opportunity for her mind to run around and play in the sunlight as it wished without the usual vivid visual stimuli of everything else. she liked the blue, it was a very nice blue. it would go really well in her kitchen instead of the checkered tiles. she was so sick of those tiles, glaring at her like she was meant to have more sophistication than one who would leave crumbs and used knives on the bread board. it was a trait that no one would put up with in a housemate and easily avoided by not having housemates, but to have the house itself judging you for it was another matter, it begged for change. as she was thinking these simply paranoid ideas of a scrutinizing decor, a humming tune filled her ears. yesterday, the Beatles, she cringed slightly.
"depressing much?" her mind whinged as it jumped back into her head, surprisingly in a much similar tone of that of the kitchen tiles. she sat up a looked around. about five metres away, which she felt was invading personal space given the park was huge, a man was standing staring at the same sky. as if he knew she was looking at him he turned his head to her and smiled. it was as if the smile came with sound effects, chimes and bells ringing through her ears enticing her to smile too, but leaving her metaphorically jaw-dropped and apparently dazed by the moment.
"nice sky today eh?" she blurted trying to escape the stunned mullet mentality.
"it's a awful" he said, returning his gaze to the sky.
"i quite like it," she answered, standing up and brushing the stray blades of grass from her back and bottom. "i was thinking of having the blue for my kitchen"
"i just think it seems terribly lonely," he paused as if searching the sky for something and then laughed, "sorry, didn't mean to make your kitchen's future sound depressing."
"oh it judges me anyway," she said bluntly, suddenly aware that the sky did look lonely, detached from the rest of the landscape.
"at least your bathroom doesn't" he laughed, but it was comfortable and not directed at her, like he had accepted the fact the rooms have personalities long ago. there was a long pause as the two just stared up, almost expecting to see a change.
"it does seem lonely" she whispered
"you seem lonely" he answered in the same tone
there was another long pause as Jill managed to swallow her pride.
"my names Jill" she held out her hand.
"Jack" he said with that smile, taking her hand and firmly shaking it.
it took a moment before the combination of their names registered and they laughed. the laughter carried a great deal of relief and something close to hope, echoing out into the rest of the park like good friends reunited on slightly elevated ground.


sometimes the only way out is through, to live is to change

44 units of sound in the english language, just 44. they have a proper name, phonemes, but i like the phrase "units of sound". sound is a nicer rhyming word than phoneme too, making it more promising reference to language. can i reach you, locked beneath this hardened ground, will this pull through, time remaining in clocks unwound, left to express, just 44 units of sound.

there was another suicide on the tracks today, not on my line, but this news still gets around even without the paper. what i don't get though is why people say "why my line? couldn't they've jumped somewhere else? couldn't they find some other way to top themselves without affecting thousands of commuters?" instead of why are they trying to kill themselves in the first place. I tried to find some stats on it, but couldn't find any, though I'm sure it's at least the sixth one in Victoria that i've heard of this year.... it's just sad...

when josh looks out the window, he doesn't see the world as a clear image with distinguishable qualities, he used to though. he could pick out the individual leaves on a tree and compare the greenness of each to one another, a simple leaf would appeared as a complex structure of not only colour and texture but of a efficient working machine. he could see the leaves shiver as a cool breeze rippled though the bushels, still swaying once the wind had left them rest. the ants climbing up the tree, their two way trails twisting along the branches to the smaller branches to the twigs and finally the flowers from which they returned to their home deep in the earth only to climb the monstrous tree again. josh used to wonder about what the concept of family was to these ants, whether they even needed a concept or if family didn't exist because they were all one in the same. except when it came to other colonies, the "us" and "them" instinct hard wired into their millimetre thick brains. he would laugh at the comparisons to humans and how often they were used, as if by making a joke about it would make it any less true. skeptical his outlook may have been, he could always see the distinction and much more, but after years of mockery and observation his eyes have grown tired of the repetitious input and have shut it out completely. thus leaving josh with nothing to look at outside the window, only the real people inside who were more daunting than ants and more diverse than the colours of the leaves. it would have been nice to say that he tried, but everytime he spoke it rung of hostility and arrogance, pushing himself further from the already distant world. unable to function in such a social environment he is reduced to introspection, the past tense mocking his inability to do anything outside himself, a depressing endless cycle of "i could have", "i should have" and "i would have". reoccuring thoughts spinning around inside his motionless head, back and forth, back and forth, much like the path of ants as they climb and descend on a rewardless mission, just doing what they can to stay alive.

the sound of shredding paper echoed through the library. one could hear the long, thin strips being torn from the books' bodies, sometimes rapidly accompanied by violent crumpling or slowly with deliberation or possibly hesitance. to some extent, based on sound alone, one could distinguish between the soft whisper of the elders and the crisp scream of the children. but the only one around to hear their silent cries for help was that who was showing no mercy.

good evening my pretties,
i know i've been terribly lazy, but if it makes any difference, i've been lazy with uni work too... which probably makes it worse rather than better... um...
i've quit my job, which is exciting, though i am in the process of rewriting my resume to get back out into the work force, but I probably will wait another month to start looking, my reasoning is something along the lines of "i'm only a teenager for six more months and i've worked the last four years, if i don't bludge now i may lose my only chance"
okay... so i don't believe that being 20 will be much different than 19, or not at all more like it, but it a good reason to take time off, clean the slate off a little and move on.
I was thinking of doing the same thing here, but the honest truth is that i probably don't write enough these days anyway to change anything greatly, so the heart and soul of this little blogging emissary, hahaha, remains pretty much the same. but then that's subjective, but that's what it's meant to be.
well i'll pause for a second or two and copy in some of the writing i've been doing... if i can find enough of the scattered scraps of paper...

p.s. thanks sandy for your encouragement to get back to blogging =)