Something in Buenos Aires

And this is what it must feel like to create something. Something artistic, something real, something that breathes, that will be understood by others. Interpreted and criticized. Revered, respected, misunderstood or feared. Something that changes as it gets older. Changes as the world changes around it. Something that was intentional but not planned. Unpredictable but inevitable. Something beautiful in it’s flaws and flawed by it’s beauty. Contradictions and nonsense. Lost in the corner of the room, in the bookshelf, or on the wall, lost amongst the screaming of life in the city. Ignored, traumatized, dusty. Yearning for fresh eyes, fresh ears, fresh touch, taste and smell. Appreciation of nothing where nothing is ever appreciated. Where nothing is never appreciated. Close your eyes and listen. Cover your ears and look. Pick up the world that exists at your feet. Surrounded by this. Consumed you get dragged along. People just like us. Just like us. I’m like us and I like this. I saw options. Paths, and journeys. Like a roadmap. Freedom, needing fuel and a decision. I was at the beginning of the end scratching my head. Looking for a direction I now find myself in the middle of the ocean. No path. No road. No control. Only those which I impose on myself. I am the key, and the door wasn’t even locked. I decide against paragraphs. No time to pause, thinking won’t help me. I’m too indoctrinated. To damaged and traumatized. Like so many others. Wage slave. Consumer. Safety in safety. Reassurance in the ordinary. Jealousy of the extraordinary. What I’ve done not good enough. Too much fear to do anything about it. I speak for myself, but I see my reflection everywhere. So in the heat of this city, I drink her water, and eat her food. Sleep under her sky. I see her people, and live my life in this context. Something will be born of this. A manifestation, we come together, and we create. I couldn’t do it without her, but she will continue to do it without me.

2 minute friends

You see someone interesting you ask if you can sit next to them. They think your talking Spanish. You reply in english ending the confusion. You get to talking and you make a new friend. In a few hours they become a close friend. In a few more hours they´re gone. You become an expert at making friends, and almost more importantly an expert at saying goodbye. The golden rule of backpacking remains. Don´t bring anything you can´t afford to lose.

killing months...

Like many other forgotten attempts at creativity here is another project of mine that has failed to develop into anything more than a waste of bandwidth. That said a whole lot of interesting things have happened in the 3-4 years since i've posted here. I became a teacher, i taught for two years in an outer suburban high school in melbourne, and i released my debut album (links in the side bar!)

Reading over what is already posted here has made me realise how much growing up you do and how much there is to be done. I read the past entries as though I'm reading a strangers blog, the humour, the ideas and the writing all seem foreign and distant but faintly familiar. I remember writing it all, but i don't remember the state of mind i was in or what i was actually doing at the time.

That said, i've come to a stage in life where i've had to make some major changes. For the past three years i have dedicated myself to education and everything involved in that. I have treated the job with all the seriousness it requires and deserves and i have always been respectful of just how vast the scope of teaching reaches. I always told myself that if I get to a stage where I didn't feel my teaching was reflective, well thought out and benefitting the students, i would take a step back and get myself in order. Three weeks ago i was granted a year's leave without pay.

So now all that's left is me, my savings, and 12 months to kill...