Tannic Teeth

I don’t like death as much as dealing with its aftermath.

As humans we have a strange way of dealing with our dearly departed. I have recently lost my grandfather.

Admittedly he was a distant figure in my childhood just occupying a space on the chair when my grandparents would visit. He’d sit there in silence – perhaps because he was losing his hearing when I became aware of the world – and our conversations would start and end in the semi-formal greeting and goodbye wish. He was the strong silent type offering few words as sustenance for us grandchildren to grow. I do however remember when I turned 13 he told me I’d better ‘pull my socks up’. Heavens knows what that meant, perhaps that I grow up, become a man, move away from home or all of the above. He after all was a boarding school child of the 1920s socks may have been the entire craze back then.

A man of few words. That’s all I could remember, and I’m fine with that.

Because the conditions of his passing were quite sudden, I really didn’t have a chance to see him alive. And I say really. I was at work; I could have left if I wanted to. But I chose to stay. I chose to go straight home, relax and lightly meditate and say my passing in spirit. Sometimes situations call for different recourse. Watching my grandfather choke on his last blood clogged breath is not what I would like as my parting memory. Ignorance sometimes is bliss.

Did I cry at the casket viewing? No. I doubt I’ll cry tomorrow at the funeral.

Why not? I didn’t see the situation as sad. He’s a man that had a full life. Survived the depression, WW2 and numerous other curve balls life occasionally throws at you. He was 89.

But what makes me sad is watching other people cry and wail at ones coffin. Watching family members reduced to blubbering messes. I feel sad for them being sad, whilst I stand stone faced starting at grey husk of a former human. I stand there with the awkward confusion of trying to make sense of what it is I’m actually feeling. My grandfather is gone – sure I’ll miss who he is, but I know the essence of who he is endures beyond this physical plane – whether that’s in the land of Jesus or not is up for debate.

I have never really understood the process in which we say goodbye to our most dearest. I guess we all deal with grief in our own special way.

Apologies for the lack of posts as of late.

I’ve been enjoying parts of my life, whilst neglecting others.

New post to come shortly.

As of now, I wish I was right here.

I held it in my hands for a brief splice of space and time,

And I let slip though my dexterousless fingers.

Falling stars do not last long.

Animi fractus

Coming out of my post convalescence stupor, I’m somewhat lost to the world around me. Like an absent minded drunk I could dance down the street merry making or burst out into tears on the sidewalk. I’m just plain confused. Uni is turning the pressure on and work is really not helping because I don’t want to be there . As if with the hand of a Shakespearean tragedy my inner upheaval (gastric and mental) has sent me into a spin. Well… I just need to get a grip on myself again.

Stop complaining like a little bitch and get on with life. YEAH that’s right!

Sushi is probably the best low fat, healthy fast-food out there. Except when it’s past its prime. Raw Salmon I would imagine goes off pretty quickly and factor in less-than-scrupulous handling and storage, you have yourself a recipie for gastro. That’s my story today.

I survived South East Asia eating off the street no problems (I even considered myself somewhat of an ‘iron stomach), so this sushi must have be particularly crawling with bugs. The fact that I bought 2 packets and had the other one in a cooler bag for about an hour in the car probably didn’t help. It was warm when I ate it, so alarm bells should have gone off them.

My only consolation is the fact that I bargained down the normally $6.50 packet to two for $10. She was reluctant to sell it to me, but she knows I’m a regular. And now I have gastro pains and well I’ve been doing what people who have gastro do… and it’s not vomiting. As a last ditch effort to quell any internal seismic activity I’m sipping on Capari and soda (as we had no Lemonade). With its massively bitter middle and back palate with light citrus tones – it gets you nicely drunk on an empty stomach.

Now, only to wait this little bug out…

So you have an assignment due on Friday, a 20 percenter (1000-1200 words) in Writing for Popular Mags. Attempt one, which I shall call Version 1.0, a measly 2 lines, lies in my other window collecting e-dust as I try to entertain my caffeinated thoughts. Maybe this is a good little mental warm-up, you know like stretching before tackling that rock-climbing wall or bouldering problem (Yes -I know Devil’s Advocate I haven’t climbed in a while – but I still think I’ll whop your ass!).

Limber your thoughts before creating your next masterpiece?

LOL.

Getting those neural pathways firing in all directions so you can only discover that ‘it’s about time to vacuum your room, dust and do the rest of the things that you didn’t find the time for over the weekend,’ but because you have an assignment lording over you, now is better time than any. My mental browser tracks between the aforementioned assignment, boring-ass work this arvo and Her. I like the frenetic pace of my tangled thoughts, ‘twisted reasons that strange my mind like liquorice laces.’

Perhaps I like the pressure. Diamonds after all, are created by such.

This is probably the first diary-blog-cathartic posting I have ever made.

Why?

Possibly because I just need to vent some emotional frustration from student-work life.

OK. I meet this girl street projecting. Pretty much a dark alley on a winters night. I’m instantly taken by her eyes. We exchange only glances- she leaves before I could meet her properly.

I track her down over fb via the street projections group. We talk over fb/ msn and go on a few dates. She is awesome. The deadly combo of brains, personality all summed up in a beautiful package. She could be a model. I’m falling for her badly.

The only catch.

Her parents globe trot frequently. The usual you know: summer in the Caymans, Christmas in Denver and soap shopping in the south of France. She’ll disappear for 6 months of the year travelling horizons I only dream to see. And she leaves in November, won’t be back till April/May. That’s a long time for young love- an entire Perth summer with out her… but then again Perth is a boring place.

I’m in a way torn and don’t know what  to do. But I can’t bring myself to call it a quits and she doesn’t want to either… either way I think it’s going to be a long hot summer…