tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59261532011-08-02T01:30:13.955+10:00like the inside of my head - only readableFrances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.comBlogger5431100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-3280978261476694042009-11-14T09:19:00.002+11:002009-11-14T09:29:03.872+11:00

it starts as a gentle tug, just once or twice before becoming a distinct pulling sensation behind the navel. a persistent urge tugging away like a young child at their mother's sleeve when they see something they really want. sometimes it's sporadic and sometimes it carries an unnerving regularity. i really don't know how it works or why it upsets me so, i'm not the jealous type. but i can't deny

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-10756778477023825092009-10-05T20:29:00.003+11:002009-10-05T20:43:04.007+11:00

i never knew that 'plum' was synonyms with 'treasure', it's familiar, but i don't think i knew it. weird that a stone fruit shares a name with something equivalent to a gem. it makes me remember a fragment of a story (of origin i can't remember) where the protagonist bites into a fruit and finds one of the missing jewels, how they were hidden in there i don't think they went into depths with.

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-52459690050391397892009-10-05T18:58:00.002+11:002009-10-05T19:34:50.628+11:00

i untangled myself from my sheets and stumbled out of bed, my mind still in dreams. they managed to linger as i brushed my teeth, making the overwhelmingly disgusting mint a distant sensation as if a dream itself. my feet seemed to walk themselves about the house, pulling me with them in well worn paths of routine, as my eyes lazily observed the passing scenery, impartial to the whole affair. at

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-40429191991070141582009-09-07T10:29:00.002+10:002009-09-07T11:01:59.661+10:00

so i love op shops, quite stereotypical for a uni student, but i do. i enjoy finding jackets that fit just right, pants that don't finish just before my ankles and sifting through the brickabrack for lost treasures and unusual finds that make me wonder why anyone would have bought it, let alone let it go. but i guess that most of the joys that come from finding something exciting is due to the

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-36004397788953873102009-08-30T22:13:00.003+10:002009-08-31T11:25:52.240+10:00

this is no place to park a mothership...i saw 'district 9' last week and thoroughly enjoyed it. not only was the CGI not painstakingly obvious, but the script itself was amazingly crafted. what was also surprising is that, as something i wouldn't mind seeing, i thought it was much better than 'public enemies', that i'd been wanting to see since i knew it existed (yes, okay, mostly for the Depp

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-91995284995773891282009-08-28T11:27:00.003+10:002009-08-28T11:50:24.464+10:00

Is this everything, I've dreamed of so much more, between the end and where we lie. here all our hopes and dreams are scavenged from the floor and fed into machines that feed on vacant eyes.all of my dreams, always find me. far beyond these fake fluorescent skies. I know there must be something more, if I could only find the door, then I could free myself and see the world outside...i kept

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-21546046523190204322009-08-27T22:52:00.002+10:002009-08-27T23:22:13.700+10:00

there's been talk about.talk of talks, talk of plans, plans to talk, plans to stay in touch, but i guess it's pretty obvious that i often fail to act on such words. "failing to plan is planning to fail", is only accurate if inaction is neutral, and god we all know that's not how it feels....anywho, how you doing? i'm doing quite fine and dandy, still pulling round a little whining wagon of woe (

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-40069858454838749982009-03-24T11:51:00.002+11:002009-03-24T12:07:29.387+11:00

i'm sure it could be found somewhere else than the endless reaches of space, could it possibly be something that hard to acquire? if you really think about it, how do you even know it exists if you haven't seen it, heard it, felt it or held it before, where does this knowledge come from if you have not seen it before? it could be in the room (though i'm pretty sure it's not in this one at current

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-8058843250164282852009-03-23T15:40:00.002+11:002009-03-23T15:43:47.857+11:00

polaroid film is expensive, i don't know if it's charm is worth that much. i wonder if it adds to the assumed poorness of artists...consumed with getting out all of the blu-tac some stupid random decided to wedge between keys, it's not even my keyboard, why should i care?peace, love and understanding

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-22694552122078837672009-03-19T09:28:00.003+11:002009-03-19T09:37:25.648+11:00

there's a crane out the window, resting parallel to the horizon, gently rocking ever so slightly up and down like a see-saw of epic proportions. the art's building clock is still stuck at twelve, i don't know how long it's been like that, or how long it will stay, but it irks me. redundancy steals its soul, meaning as much as time piece as it does as a tree. it'd better if it were a tree, a lot

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-5693261265001784692008-12-16T11:57:00.002+11:002008-12-16T12:16:03.068+11:00

we find it on a foreign road, covered in dist but still separate from it's surrounds. the traveler's epiphany, destined to grow into something life changing or a failed new year's resolution. the comfortability of the homeland, of the familiar furniture, of where we have sat for so long beckons us back to the well worn seat in the butt-consuming sofa, to see the last whatever days, weeks, months

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-28032209846030786752008-11-21T11:33:00.002+11:002008-11-21T11:51:17.789+11:00

He picked up a stone - nothing special, just a small rock - and threw it at the corrugated iron shed, a satisfying "gong" reverberating off its walls. Pleased with the sound, he threw another and another, hitting closer to the corner each time, producing a different ring. Ready in hand for the next throw, he aimed for the exact centre of the shed, where the deepest sound should echo from."

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-28534704038364515362008-11-15T15:46:00.002+11:002008-11-15T15:53:06.769+11:00

perhaps a duel of words shall calm our raging swords, and if not then let them taste the flesh of each other.she said something the scared me and now all i can remember is the fear and not her words.you're not beautiful, your soul is much too radiant for aesthetics to comprehend.laziness.and just a tad neglectful, sorry. *bows for forgiveness* two weeks 'til cambodia so i can't repent right now.

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-67635448481359291042008-09-13T10:53:00.002+10:002008-09-13T11:17:12.983+10:00

when we laugh indoors, the blissful tones bounce off the walls, and fall to the ground (death cab for cutie)i fail at jelly making, it always ends up with a heavier, gross, precipitate layer at the bottom (which i usually redissolve and set, can't be wasting jelly now). even when i follow the 4 point directions exactly it just doesn't come out properly... blackberry jelly for breakfast = awesome,

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-5631321452350708402008-09-12T16:09:00.002+10:002008-09-12T16:29:20.535+10:00

she wears this purple woolen jumper for an entire month, tranferring her smell to it, filling it with memories. then, starting with a sleave, she snips a strand and unravels it, balling it up as she goes. resulting in a neat ball of purple wool, the jumper is placed next to similar balls of wool of varying colour in a draw that is rarely opened. under lock and key it'll rest there, symbolising

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-33531083474851047262008-08-30T12:22:00.002+10:002008-08-30T12:56:21.171+10:00

you're all talkbeing heartless and cold-hearted are totally different things, one cannot be cold-hearted and heartless for they would have no heart to be cold. empty of meaningful meansthat's what people do when they have a life, well a life defined and valued by belongings anyway. (Jenny doesn't let Sam talk, well she does but not for the amount of time Sam needs to explain what he wants or

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-5759492299142143492008-08-18T18:49:00.002+10:002008-08-18T19:18:53.530+10:00

he devours the hours with not so much as a moment to chewshe can be frank with you, honest without you and will never follow through with blunt force traumathe weather is wearing and the warmth is wornthe tear tears away from the befogging stormmistaking a puddle for a break in the muddleclothes for the dirt stains, bandaged inert painsunwilling washed in the welcome rainsbeing full of one liners

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-5237459373221824872008-08-15T14:50:00.002+10:002008-08-15T15:13:05.023+10:00

as much as owning a car these days is pocket-lightening, and generally saddening, shopping for third party car insurance is downright depressing. seriously. i got six different online quotes and it seems they're all in it together.young driver + oldish (but incredibly charming) car = huge (in most, especially student, speaking terms) premium + hardly decent insurance + extra basic excesscan't

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-43189232360243444672008-08-10T10:51:00.003+10:002008-08-10T12:38:26.970+10:00

He knew it was cliched and pointless, but the 2am air beckoned him. Putting his arm out the car window he played with the passing wind, ducking and weaving, in and out on top of invisible landscapes. He twitched his fingers as they began to numb with the cool wind billowing against it and as his arm began to tire. Looking up at the cloud night sky he took his attention away from his arm for a

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-58223518619190173632008-08-02T14:58:00.002+10:002008-08-02T15:21:22.375+10:00

facebook.... now not only on facebook excessively often, but now writing about facebookwell not really, because the only thing i really do on facebook is occasionally talk to people, poke them and change my status. and i change my status a lot. and because they are often more "look at me, i'm so witty and funny and charming" rather than what i am actually doing. which i thought i might share,

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-54188308919894899992008-08-02T13:51:00.002+10:002008-08-02T13:55:54.586+10:00

to successfully grow up, will i have to sacrifice my newly rekindled 'pajama saturday' holiday?

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-66911810437611117092008-07-31T21:35:00.002+10:002008-07-31T22:02:22.992+10:00

Her head twisted around awkwardly, her shoulders eventually following and leading the rest of the body in an 180 degree motion henceforth. Well, to be accurate, the task wasn't completely accomplished. Tammy hadn't merely lost her footing, she had lost he feet. Of course this misplacement is a hypothetical comparison as her feet were still healthily connected to her legs, which some may say are

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-53792890331675700652008-07-30T12:34:00.002+10:002008-07-30T12:59:56.124+10:00

"With a little more wit and laughter i'm sure you could become quite a star, quite a star indeed." the plumpish man proclaimed, his pinstriped suit not quite following the flow of his flamboyant arm movements, bulging in the worse places, tailored to a much younger model. "I just think you need to cut back on these points here," he said flipping through the manuscript and pointing a pudgey finger

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-64469959091561089102008-07-29T10:28:00.003+10:002008-07-29T16:17:30.665+10:00

i lay still in my bed staring up at the greyness, doona up to my chin, waiting for the sledgehammer of sleep to smash me across the face and put my weary mind to rest. but alas, it seems the night sounds are calling and my brain just loves to answer the phone. What is it? a cat? a bird? a person? i wish those blinds closed properly... it rambles as the cries of a wild animal plays a repetitious

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-2542571566167162112008-07-27T09:42:00.004+10:002008-07-27T09:58:00.542+10:00

patience is a virtuepatience is a good thinggood things come to those who waittime and tide waits for no mantime and tide impatienttime and tide are not virtuous or the recipient of good thingstime and tide are not humanargument flawedusing common sayings as factual basisflaweddoes inaction ever bring change?

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-91473016561213846142008-07-24T10:30:00.004+10:002008-07-24T12:08:27.059+10:00

when no words are spoken, the silence left unbroken, an elephant sits in the room, a prophecy of impending doom. and as mouths wither and dry, quiet attempts to try, to rekindle the conversational fire, awkwardness down to the wire...and i've thinking, that summer may be bringing, more than much needed sun, and i'm not trying to infer, that the world will change without anyone needing to run...

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-80238432470583928232008-07-17T20:58:00.002+10:002008-07-17T22:04:10.972+10:00

The air was cool and misty, a lethargic, morning breeze rolling over the grassy field and through the looming trees, their crisp, orange leaves rustling with the pleasure of this sensation. The couple leisurely strode along the gravel path, a satisfying crunch released with each step. Rugged up in multiple layers, they kept close together, the fog from their exhales indistinguishable from one

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-4130174754025666122008-07-03T17:22:00.003+10:002008-07-10T17:16:25.713+10:00

"Maggie! Can you grab me a tissue?" Steve yelled from his swivel chair, it appeared slightly more padded than the others in the office, but it was simply because all the stuffing had migrated away from the weight that seldom lifted during office hours and plumped up the edges."Maggie!" he yelled again, rolling himself towards the door. The chair didn't roll very smoothly on the carpet and Steve

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-78099880595419866062008-07-01T17:15:00.002+10:002008-07-01T17:38:31.056+10:00

holiday timethree weeks, three long weeks. I don't know what i'm going to do, a lot of my friends are going away and such, a suspicious amount to Sydney in fact, i wonder is it's a conspiracy or if Sydney actually has something to offer in a fortnight's time. maybe i'm just jealous. the plan is to get a job, or make stuff i can sell on eBay that doesn't breach copyright laws. well, to be honest i

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-52229656108900420002008-06-21T20:02:00.003+10:002008-06-28T14:11:27.803+10:00

Steph was bored, completely and utterly bored. everyone had gone to bed and she couldn't sleep to save herself, so rather than lying awake in bed, her eyes relentlessly flickering over the shadows, she was silently roaming the house. but everything is louder at night, or at least seems to be, Steph wasn't sure how quiet she was really being as every floor board seemed to cry out, light switches

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-59510141126426373372008-06-19T13:50:00.003+10:002008-06-20T18:05:11.908+10:00

her delicate hands moved like liquid poetry, majestic, fluid continuations of her arms and hands and fingertips rippled through the air like an enthralling afterimage. each sign symbolized something, a silent language, but she 'spoke' in such a manner that one didn't need to know the meaning to be consumed in its beauty. in her beauty. David glanced up from his paper, his fingernails piercing the

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-18356014330920341732008-06-18T15:21:00.002+10:002008-06-18T15:52:10.353+10:00

"Serge and Ruth broke up last year, she'd been sleeping with another. He took it pretty hard, he blamed her a little and then himself a lot, then something clicked and he kind of stopped showing what he was feeling. He used to put the man in mansuetude, quite the gentleman really, now he's just alone, and ruthless, unable to more forward."Bianca sighed before emptying the rest of her glass of

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-32790937178987186232008-06-15T16:17:00.003+10:002008-06-15T16:34:49.737+10:00

the reel clattered frantically against the plastic as its coat was stripped, inch by inch, from it's ever thinning body. a metal spear ensured none of the reel's escape attempts were successful, holding it captive from the inside. any other personified object would have felt extremely dizzy and nauseated from the continuous spinning experience, but the reel was helpless and hopeless, so much so

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-57018218091963159232008-06-13T17:59:00.002+10:002008-06-14T23:16:14.128+10:00

Shane's head hit the glass coffee table twice before it shattered violently, littering the carpet with glittering shrapnel. the hand interwoven in his hair, clenching painfully against his scalp pulled him back up, only to throw him against the green plush sofa. Shane tried to move his own hands, to try and soften the oncoming blows, but they wouldn't even twitch for him, as if they'd given up

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-68822040597223573722008-05-30T08:28:00.002+10:002008-05-30T09:33:52.928+10:00

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

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-50984055800931128512008-05-23T00:00:00.002+10:002008-05-23T00:57:10.010+10:00

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

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-10357016386304895552008-05-12T11:12:00.002+10:002008-05-12T11:40:24.076+10:00

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

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-56732275750833994922008-05-08T18:26:00.003+10:002008-05-08T18:41:42.244+10:00

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

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-76083210176854537212008-05-08T18:10:00.002+10:002008-05-08T18:26:38.451+10:00

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

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-45547303296611030082008-04-13T12:45:00.002+10:002008-04-17T17:37:04.846+10:00

lazy lazy lazynot up to much, guess it makes me acknowledge the fact that i only write when i need to write, compared to want, these days, what a lazy outlook.anyways, hope you're happy and doing well, peace out!we opened the paper and digested the news, that split through the choir and screamed from the pews... but i couldn't hear the words...

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-34712762137867045002008-03-26T13:06:00.003+11:002008-03-26T13:34:07.960+11:00

my legs are growing weary,as i try to keep myself afloat,pacifically treading water,in the disappearing wake of your boat.and i don't want to panic,but this question is a must,when will you come back for me?words rippling faintly, it's a matter of trustmaybe the ending for a beginning that never existed

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-14703389670178957002008-03-20T19:53:00.002+11:002008-03-20T19:58:28.094+11:00

today me and my brother and my dad made pancakes. thomas made such a big mess and dad slipped on it. he was laughing but was still a little angry. after we cleaned the puddle, i got to pour the pancake mix into the hot pan. the sizzling noises were funny. dad said i was too young to flip them and so thomas got to do it. i think i could have flipped just as many as good as he did. we sat at the

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-19093215706993891072008-03-20T19:46:00.003+11:002008-04-17T17:39:01.652+10:00

M: your father and i agreeF: your mother and i believeM: a uniting force against teenage dreamsF: secretly falling apart at the seamsM: because your father is a bastardF: your mother is a whoreM: and i don't want to say you're the reasonF: but we were much happier beforeM: youF: youM: heF: herM: usF: weM: just can't make itF: work anymore

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-57564527243917036102008-03-20T19:18:00.003+11:002008-03-20T20:00:46.468+11:00

Leave the ocean's roar in the turquoise shell, leave the widower in his private hell, leave the liberty in that broken bell today... Just leave the epic poem on its yellowed page, leave the gray macaw in his covered cage, let the traveling band on the interstate remain...a different strain of deja vu, the same emotion with a new experience, the nauseating tug that makes it all feel all too

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-15222589614510240552008-03-14T15:14:00.002+11:002008-03-14T15:41:04.756+11:00

if anyone's recently popped by and been attacked by my music when they least expected it, i do apologize. it's no longer on autoplay and the volume switch is accessible, so if you wish to listen to some of the songs i've mentioned in old posts, they're there, but not bombarding your preferred track listing or getting you in trouble in public libraries that forgot to mute their computers. congrats

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-20003644023932890672008-03-11T19:01:00.002+11:002008-03-11T19:18:08.234+11:00

banter banter, random finger tapping, internet equivalent of tongue waggingso i guess this is a raw memory rubbed the wrong way, salt in wounds, leaving too soon for resolution. for revolution. for evolution. for greater understanding of what i could never understand, for a lesser under-dog i could never underhand, for what's worth more than the sticker price, more than the bricked-wall life.

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-13218878392445527922008-03-02T17:48:00.003+11:002008-03-02T17:51:41.812+11:00

something of a "did you know?"while downloading games for my beloved nds, i came across this verification code and was somewhat amused. computers can't read through cats and dogs, fancy that!

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-52405900709987358262008-02-27T09:11:00.003+11:002008-02-27T09:38:31.068+11:00

just thought i'd come by today,to see how you are doing,a little call just to say,and to check that you're not brooding,alone, like someone else i know.with an ulterior motive,this may be awkward, a dangerous climb,but i need to be forward, this is the time,my missing link,you may be the right one.are you even listening?your glazed eyes and your pale cheeks,the silent sighs and reluctance to

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-24396286227080999782008-02-26T11:24:00.002+11:002008-02-26T11:47:47.292+11:00

general rant posti'm usually pretty good with money, thrifty, stingy, whatever you wish to call it. it's probably because i don't enjoy shopping, especially clothes shopping, and so don't, and the money just sits in my bank account wondering why it was made. but i am quite ashamed to say that i have embraced e-bay, browsing and clicking buttons quickly, making my real money feel like play money

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-23762164948654478502008-02-25T21:55:00.002+11:002008-02-25T22:51:44.377+11:00

double click, click, scroll, pause. scroll, double click, double click, scroll, right click, click, click, right click, click, click. Wind-chimes tinged once and then twice, the sound echoing through the dark house. the cool draft that had tickled the hanging, metal tubes danced on Brian's sleeping features. His right cheek spasmed slightly, an involuntary flinch that may or may not have been

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-42434979644303500192008-02-22T10:35:00.002+11:002008-02-22T10:54:20.947+11:00

i went on a road trip with a couple of buds to yarrawonga (on the border of VIC and NSW) last week, if you were thinking that i just had one of those lazy streaks of no writing for two weeks. i drove my car up, which was very exciting, and stressful, 3 hours of driving does that to me, but it was more like 3 and a half, because i was told to turn left instead of right in the middle of nowhere,

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-17723261870966394392008-02-08T15:55:00.000+11:002008-02-08T15:58:22.558+11:00

I saw something I was not supposed to seeA ghostly memory that keeps on haunting meThe kitchen door was open a crack,So naively we peeked insideOh, darling sister, have they hurt you, have they hurt you?Oh, Pretty Baby, they won't touch youThey won't touch you againWe will fix this incidentI don't want to be seen as a pretty thing'Cause it's the pretty things that we're always breaking...And now

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-7707962133359167122008-02-03T16:42:00.000+11:002008-02-03T17:12:48.531+11:00

the last straw hit her like a tree. buckling at the knees, her pretense failed and everything came out. all of the horrible bile that had been burning inside her chest escaped in a sudden, wretched motion. insults and annoyances had matured into elaborate reasons of distaste and scolding words of melted truth. she tried to pick up the last straw again, in an attempt to take everything back, to

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-20501329725708610412008-02-01T15:34:00.000+11:002008-02-01T17:55:08.999+11:00

it's funny how you can spend all day dwelling on a feeling, but when you decide that you should try to write it out, it swims in too deep to be caught by words. you sit not so patiently, hands on keyboard, waiting for it to tug on the line and be brought to the surface. nets and hooks can't catch it, minutes tick by and the feeling starts taunting you, visible but unexplainable. like describing a

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-71292465746940782312008-01-27T16:16:00.000+11:002008-01-27T16:30:24.446+11:00

somewhere out there, there is a huge pile of marbles. maybe a marble city, where all the marbles go when they get lost. they would live a happily retired life, have dinner parties, long, meaningful conversations, fall in love and have children. One day the grown up marbles would eventually kiss Ma and Pa goodbye and go out into the wide world to be discovered. stumbled upon by mere mortals that

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-91335503539759097092008-01-24T22:02:00.000+11:002008-01-24T22:36:11.386+11:00

a rude joke from my tweens, i still to some extent love telling it, and thus why it is here. i didn't make it up, but it's not word for word, you know how these things work.Three men were sitting at the bar in a pub that neighboured a vacant lot maintained by some nearsighted nuns who lived in the abbey down the street (how convenient you might say). It was a slow moving afternoon and so for some

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-79316969249520746492008-01-23T20:36:00.000+11:002008-01-23T20:58:08.465+11:00

there's something outside the front door, rustling the leaves of trees, rattling windows in their frames. i know it's there, i can sense it there, but i won't be afraid, because i'm not scared of it. there's something in the dining room, shuffling chairs against carpet, creaking floorboards underfoot. i know it's there, i can sense it there, but i won't be afraid, because i'm not scared of it.

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-22149730172080848692008-01-21T17:36:00.000+11:002008-01-21T18:14:58.416+11:00

her hands trembled as she spoke. her eyes flickered occasionally upwards from the crimson and royal blue coloured carpet that ran under her feet and through the lobby, spotted with semi-comfortable sofa chairs and plastic looking pot plants. it was early morning, about 5.30m, so there were very few people to be seen. in fact the only people present were Elissa, a half asleep doorman and a drunk

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-38878204332438027552008-01-20T20:31:00.000+11:002008-01-20T21:09:46.845+11:00

i like to think that i once wrote lists, that i could have written extensive lists in a beautiful scrawl that no one else could read. but i only ever really attempted making lists, a mental list maker of making lists. they would always start of with the obvious items and so i would go "i'll remember them, i shouldn't need a list", and discard it. when it came to the more meaningful though, like

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-92118137461770215232008-01-15T16:02:00.001+11:002008-01-19T16:31:09.643+11:00

I was sitting in the main library when I heard two girls talking in between the aisles. Having been struggling with my studies on the reproductive cycle of fungi for at least the last half hour, it wasn't hard to become distracted by their conversation."All I'm saying is that maybe humanity is governed by some sort of supreme balance, that if we can move around some of the weights we can get some

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-52740289265524988732008-01-13T23:21:00.000+11:002008-01-13T23:40:35.753+11:00

thought trails...direction, navigation, voyage, the open sea, pirates, yarr! ahoy me hearties, heart, start, beating, the moment is fleeting, and i can't feel, what you tell me is real, or surreal, a dream, a waking thought, naught, none, nothing remained of the time we tamed, and the days we claimed, to be ours forever, never, september to december, the calender's pages are torn and discarded,

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-89054617004362913812008-01-13T23:06:00.000+11:002008-01-13T23:16:04.192+11:00

hey Steph,god i hate starting e-mails with the "hey you", but it's so hard to find a suitable greeting for these things without sounding too formal or like a complete wank. Ha! did you know this spell check has a problem with the word "wank", since when wasn't that a word? Anyways, I'm getting distracted, but not from much. Just wanted to drop a line to see how things were going, you know the

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-41308806370983823812008-01-12T20:02:00.000+11:002008-01-12T21:02:22.334+11:00

Neither Janine or Matt were honestly in the mood for cooking. It was hot and muggy and their house didn't have air conditioning nor was it well ventilated. So it was decided that they'd brave the heat and go out to have dinner at a random fast-food restaurant. Surprisingly the weather wasn't as bad outside as it seemed, a gentle breeze helping the evaporation part of perspiration. The sun

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-28826540868415597572008-01-11T19:22:00.000+11:002008-01-11T20:51:17.004+11:00

He lifted his head and smelt the air. It was no mistake, something was defiantly burning. He ran to the kitchen, the usual source of such things, but it was perfectly fine. The microwave was silent, the toaster was empty and unplugged and although the oven could've done with a severe makeover or at least a scrub, it too was not the origin. As he quickly ducked in and out of each of the rooms, it

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-65057414604700705442008-01-04T19:52:00.002+11:002008-08-02T16:50:11.886+10:00

"I seem to have discovered a new horizon to run to, though it would be more accurate to say that I was running before I stumbled upon the sight of a more beautiful goal. I cannot say if it was the world that shifted or myself that unconsciously changed direction, but it was most certainly gradual, not even recognizing the changes until nothing was familiar.""That is an intriguing concept, the

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-62827683429746632822007-12-18T12:44:00.000+11:002007-12-18T12:53:29.525+11:00

*head desk*

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-59319608625734217952007-12-08T19:22:00.000+11:002007-12-08T19:43:14.056+11:00

i am unreasonably grumpy when i'm sick, and it is just by pure luck that i don't get sick often. it is seriously painful talking to me when i'm in one of these sickness induced moods, because once i've give my fair share of cynicism i suddenly feel guilty for making others feel crap and so become all jokes and border on the point of an over-enthusiastic puppy that can't sit still. it also seems

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-8654073589680673522007-12-05T11:14:00.000+11:002007-12-05T13:30:15.118+11:00

oh god... spent the last hour watching dominoes and Rube Goldberg machines... if you do have 10mins to waste...domino day championships ARE AMAZING, i just wish i could speak more german that "gutne tag! Wie gehts dir?" "Ich bin muede" "du sind lustig!""Aber das ist nicht meinen Hamburger" and now i can't remember the gender of a hamburger... i'm sure it's an 'it'. erhem... marbles!excuse the

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-26029911507979858142007-12-05T08:43:00.000+11:002007-12-05T09:19:06.025+11:00

call me when you think of a better reason, a grander excuse, a more plausible lie. standing here trying to think of when it became like this, when it got so hard to soak-up your words and reply with something civil. is it merely bitterness gumming away at my patience and good nature? can this bitterness be passed off as "merely bitterness"? or is it something greater lurking in the folds of my

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-39355436980897302532007-12-02T15:25:00.000+11:002007-12-03T08:58:28.249+11:00

i want to lock it? all up in my pocket? it's my bar of chocolate? give it to me now...been in sydney for a week, family holiday. and thought it sounds ungrateful to my mum, i don't really like holidays, i'm probably too lazy anyway to really appreciate them. and besides their world known tourist attractions (yes, the sydney opera house IS incredible, i'm just sour because we didn't get to watch

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-15408608232177468212007-11-21T19:32:00.000+11:002007-11-21T19:53:21.223+11:00

old people annoy me.make a tiny joke about politics or weather and they start ranting.they don't pick up on "young sarcasm". it's for some reason less noticeable than that of senior sarcasm, the difference i think is in the delivery, but i really don't understand the division. they can make fun of you all they like and you're expected to laugh. they get frustrated when you don't know what they're

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-18940628163904617742007-11-19T08:55:00.000+11:002007-11-19T09:40:35.371+11:00

i was flipping through a true or false quiz on social psych on facebook (yes i have joined the herd) and stumbled upon this;"Hurting others makes us feel better. When life hands you lemons, don't bother making lemonade... just pelt them at somebody else"the original saying absolutly irks me, i mean, you need sugar for lemonade and where are you meant to pull that from if all you ever have is want

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-78203129128098975252007-11-13T17:35:00.000+11:002007-11-13T18:11:56.655+11:00

"i think i'll go home and mull this over, before i cram it down my throat, at long last it's crashed, it's colossal mass, has broken up into lits in my moat"last exam today, filled with a flooding relief. i'm so over-flowing i could even pour you a cup if you like, it is quite refreshing. chemistry was awfully horrible, disgusting and i'm glad i don't need to touch it even again, if i have to it

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-2253382069040741272007-11-10T22:24:00.000+11:002007-11-10T23:11:05.016+11:00

at work we're positioned a-shop-away from an entrance and have a huge-ass sky-light (which is at the moment slight obscured by christmas decorations. they were put up in october, "a little bit shiny, a little bit of an eyesore and a little bit early") so we are quite aware of the weather outside. we are also very aware that we are stuck inside. now i don't embrace the summer elements very well,

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-43895561408858380152007-11-06T17:07:00.000+11:002007-11-06T17:17:30.866+11:00

...and you are just a mark, on the map of my past. but i am a road, i wind along alone, all day until the coast... (season poem - gregory and the hawk)

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-59737893255801211562007-10-26T19:34:00.000+10:002007-10-26T21:12:31.269+10:00

"you have something to say, and i believe you should say it. say it now, scream it if you must, but get it off your chest now, otherwise it might bury itself in too deep to ever be dislodged from your throat""do i? or do you simple want something of a more interesting conversation? sick of the same ol', repetitious tongue-wag that graces you every day, you want something of an unexpected,

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-72136261119509410292007-10-20T19:44:00.000+10:002007-10-20T20:25:47.388+10:00

breakdown of communication... well i guess it had to exist first to actually then breakdown, so really it's just lacking all together.okay, rant time. so after the separation the plan was my sister and i would spend one week at mum's and one week at dad's, a plan we were kind of forced into, but anyway. that stopped about four months ago when dad started doing afternoon shifts and there was no

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-7443705543453108262007-10-16T19:58:00.000+10:002007-10-16T20:50:54.239+10:00

in psych a couple of lectures ago we were looking at attributional styles, which basically focuses how people explain negative events. So there are these three main dimensions we were presented with; internal vs external, stable vs unstable, and global (as in the whole of the person) vs specific. So say i did badly on my psych essay (i actually got a H2A, whoo!), and my explanation was that "i'm

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-83228582285460674232007-10-10T15:52:00.000+10:002007-10-11T14:52:02.029+10:00

the first thing Mary saw when she woke-up every morning was the photo of her and Mark, hand in hand in front of a glorious sunset, a really touristy snapshot that really could have been any couple's photo clipped from a travel magazine. she would roll to the other side of the bed, hoping that he might still be there and he'd catch her in his warm embrace. But all she met today was the rest of the

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-60434266336364293082007-10-02T20:01:00.000+10:002007-10-02T20:14:04.234+10:00

back at uni and striped of all impulses of wasting time... well except for those 3hrs painting a t-shirt... and that hour spent just cruising on the train... and those couple of hours playing new super mario... and the train ride reading the paper... and watching two episodes of bleach... and writing this post... hahaha, i'll just convince myself it isn't wasting my time, it's just spending it. i

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-60301002044661879682007-09-25T15:30:00.001+10:002007-09-26T17:16:39.945+10:00

just in case you didn't get enough, did you know that a ds lite fits perfectly in an empty box of pocky? The other one is just there to show off my shoes... tehehupdate: reloaded pictures plus another... muhahaha. god i'm bored

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-78874449756724550082007-09-25T15:15:00.000+10:002007-09-25T15:38:31.747+10:00

mum said i'd been playing it too much since i got the r4 for ds (which basically means i have access to 100s of games, and i can put movies and anime on it, as well as waste time making different skins for the menu screens), which is very true. so i decided to spend some time expressing it's exterior charm and beauty. hahaha... ahh... *tug collar* i'm on break at the moment if that

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-62564209190706306602007-09-20T09:11:00.000+10:002007-09-20T14:43:21.956+10:00

ok... i admit it. I've just spent the last hour and a bit on similarminds and quizilla and the like doing personality tests. now quite a few of them were the "which character from blah blah are you?", but then i started getting into the Jung personality tests, which is relevant seeing we're studying personality typing (you can't get away from humans wanting to categorize) in psych soon. But to

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-17905964529690786732007-09-17T14:30:00.000+10:002007-09-18T07:53:20.288+10:00

the sounds you were making, i couldn't understand,some thing was breaking, did you lose sight of land?i saw that you're shaking, could i've held your hand?would that of made things any... better?i wished that i could tell you, that it'll all just be fine,but they're words that you knew, could never be mine,i can still give you, a few days of my time,would that of made things any... better?it was

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-77200984606277543142007-09-10T16:59:00.000+10:002007-09-10T17:19:54.787+10:00

you are beautiful and amazing and kind and precious and i am so glad you are here.it's addressed to you

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-39864241520799765512007-09-09T15:12:00.000+10:002007-09-09T15:15:07.777+10:00

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-17005068158667171652007-09-01T19:10:00.000+10:002007-09-01T19:33:09.738+10:00

it's because you are bright it's because you are energetic it's because you are happy it's because you are free it's because you are content it's all because...it's because you are smilingit's because you are laughingit's because you are dancingit's because you are spinningit's because you are livingit's so because...it's because you are thinking it's because you are dreaming it's because you

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-62434346766563275862007-08-30T10:40:00.000+10:002007-08-30T10:43:58.380+10:00

we're running up endless staircases in desperation to reach some kind of conclusion. no answers. maybe we're just on escalators going the wrong way. the only reward is the scenery......gahhope you're well San

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-56400525599328630772007-08-29T17:31:00.000+10:002007-08-30T22:42:39.272+10:00

"yours is the name i whisper to myself at night when i awake from a nightmare. yours is the voice that calms me. yours is the touch that excites me. yours are the eyes that i adore. you must know that through life and death i will stand by you, for you, my beloved, are the one i love,"Mike finished his heart-filled pledge of devotion with a tear in the corner of his eye, balancing like a crystal

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-39954196848875004532007-08-29T07:42:00.000+10:002007-08-29T07:53:36.816+10:00

San is gone... I haven't been on properly in a while and this morning i received a message from Indie about San's disappearance. I really hope nothing terrible has happened. San, I hope you're alright and well, I'll miss you if you don't come back.

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-74652573083148809182007-08-10T19:12:00.000+10:002007-08-10T19:28:28.677+10:00

Pink Bullets by the Shinsthe cow is so adorable!

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-74629447612402549182007-08-09T23:08:00.000+10:002007-08-09T23:18:14.683+10:00

we all want to sit where we're stable... and by we, i really just mean me...no one can here me yell, inside this ego-centric cell...bahgahuh ar-garg buh ergle buh gu paah huh pffti haven't a clue what i'm doing

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-85946474257621400752007-08-05T15:22:00.000+10:002007-08-07T20:25:46.930+10:00

wandering wounded, with the emotions you've brooded,stacked up around you in piles much too tall.keeping them steady, makes you tired and you're ready,for the still sleep that comes without nightfall.trapped in a dream, that provokes more smoke than steam,sinister black clouds consuming your view.unsure if your able, to find something more stable,arms stretched out for the closest thing to

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-29713076723359687392007-08-02T14:51:00.000+10:002007-08-03T21:03:19.186+10:00

i thought being back at uni would invoke more thought from me. but it seems to be draining me. i've never really forced myself to write, and i don't really think i should, but maybe it'll work out ok...rachel stood completely still, she could have sworn she had heard pine-needles being crushed under a foot that wasn't hers. the wind that whistled through the trees carried a whiff of something

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-34582560731571832812007-08-02T14:47:00.000+10:002007-08-02T14:50:10.573+10:00

ahh... Missy Higgins, simply lovely, i need to get her new album... *thought trails off*

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-39423729122005062452007-07-30T19:43:00.000+10:002007-07-30T20:29:44.988+10:00

...if someone points out that you're wrong, lie, and if found out to be lying, shut them off, because they only know if you're lying if they know you...there was a lot more (and i do mean a large amount) more to this post, but suddenly i was attacked by the "it's no good!" thoughts and lost most of it to my forefinger on the backspace key. sorry. i mean to write properly again soon... or write

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-6802123297687747842007-07-21T19:12:00.000+10:002007-07-21T19:39:25.726+10:00

word trails...ocean, sea, seashore, see more, be more, leave more behind, away, a way, to say, something more, or, for, no more, words, sentences, paragraphs, pages, of ages, riffling through history, displays the cousins of rifles, killing the people's disciples, who're only remembered for their death, and what they left, behind, the only thing we could find, was a story, a tale, of a man in

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-80830205239938099932007-07-17T19:36:00.001+10:002007-07-17T19:37:41.776+10:00

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-34880457849402696152007-07-17T10:19:00.000+10:002007-07-17T19:00:44.176+10:00

this is me todaymood: boredListening to: Regina Spektor Reading: As You Like It Watching: Sailor Moon S (third season, soooooo good!)Playing: Pokemon Pearl Version (so addictive, 7 gym badges in two weeks, i'm not obsessed, my geekiness just likes expressing itself)Eating: nothing right nowDrinking: wateri'm back to uni next week! horray! it'll give me a break from working at the bakery, so i

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5926153.post-17941973869698464202007-07-16T10:40:00.000+10:002007-07-16T11:44:09.666+10:00

the lives we are dreaming and the ones we're are leading, aren't the same at all,in lacking the luster and the strength we can't muster, we are bound to fall.wallowing in a haze, that shrouded our days, luck was never on our side,but don't stop there, to be honest and fair, we never, ever, really tried.the world we live underand the trails we hope to wander, still haven't met,the support that we

Frances bo bancesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00764627067116733299noreply@blogger.com4