Poem(s) for Bowie

So many called me up to say

it was only just the other day

I know so many people who

they were only just talking to

it seems like the strangest kind

of coincidence, you were just on their mind

and they call you the starman,

but you've been on earth for a long time

resting on the surface for a long time

spreading out your lines

like a spider from Mars

and cases full of costumes

and boxes full of you

and rectangles of paper

telling us all who

were you

which mask will you be buried in

a suit of many skins

stitched together from the faces

of all your many men

a grave in all the places

where you've been

you'll get to live forever

I've poured glitter in my eyes

wishing it was stardust

and you're on the other side

but it's just us now

who were just talking about you

and now that's all we'll ever do

 Photos by my boyfriend Kim.

Moon Landing

#interior

A photo posted by Bonny (@grandmastattoo) on Aug 1, 2015 at 8:24pm PDT

I've been thinking about:

Personal Space
Ingrained from childhood and mindlessly sacrificed in certain spaces according to social contract. Pressed up against you on the tram. Negation and participation.

Safe Space
With fibrous walls, never as big or as small as they need to be. Mandated and regulated. Safer.  Safe for me. Maybe not for you. Hopefully not forever.

Personal hellscapes and paperwork. Pressures. Physical weaknesses and rotting teeth. Addressing self-loathing and all the shades of blood. Leaving well enough (me) alone. Extending the heart to envelope another. Opening doors into private rooms. Does this make sense to you? It does to me.

Bury me radioactive on the moon.

Pictures From a Disposable Camera 2013-2014

East Brunswick Club in December

What I think is the bus trip from Wangaratta to Melbourne

From a picnic in a park in Melbourne

Pants on the head because he's not out of bed

Rooftops from the foodcourt at Richmond Ikea

Richmond Ikea tram stop

A Poem for the Teenage Girl at My Tramstop in the 'Helen of Troy' Jersey

Helen of Troy is captain of the softball team.
Her name is printed on the back of her jersey,
white transfer letters on stripes of black and blue.
The modest crowd can build up quite a roar
when they find themselves chanting her name.
She wears black leggings under her uniform
every single day
something tight, to keep her held together.

Phone footage of the fight made its way online,
then to the principal,
to her parents,
to every one in school.
Even in the grainy footage
you could still read her name,
so they punished her just as much as them,
even though
it had never been her fight,
not really.

Sugar Cubes

When I was little I had several appointments a year with a variety of specialists. Heart, bones, eyes, teeth; doctors and their students examining me through lenses and tubes, x-rays and adult hands. I would get the day off school and sit around at my parent's work. If Mum was taking me we'd go across to the supermarket to get lunch. My regular meal was a jelly cup and a sandwich, shaved ham and iceberg lettuce on white bread, with a grinding of salt and pepper. Despite being entirely empty calories I did have one for the first time in years a few weeks ago and it remains an excellent sandwich. If I stayed with Dad we'd go to one of the various cafes in Southbank. He had his regulars, and I am always wary when I feel that I visit the same cafe and order the same thing too often. 

On my birthdays my parents or my grandmother would take me to the city to visit either the art gallery or the museum. The art gallery in Brisbane is one of the things I miss most (and I would love so much to get up there now for the David Lynch exhibit). I've been feeling nostalgic for Brisbane a lot recently; I miss the sun and the beach and the houses in the suburb I grew up in. I even, to an extent, miss the weather. I lived in the same house for about 12 years. I miss some of the people - not all. 

There was a cafe in the middle of the Queen Street Mall which used to have sugar cubes on every table. I don't know which cafe it was or even if it's still there, and I don't know if I ever went there more than once or twice. I just remember being enamoured with the grainy white cubes in the little pot. I think I had probably read about them in some novel about swotty English school children or other. 

For some reason a couple of months ago I had a mild fixation about sugar cubes. This happens. I realised I hadn't seen them anywhere in ages. I looked for them at the supermarket, but was unsuccessful. Every cafe with boring paper packets of sugar was a disappointment. I happened upon artisan sugar cubes on Etsy, but wasn'tquite prepared to drop $30 for handcrafted, pastel coloured, doily shaped, rose flavored bit of sugar (my loss). 

Last week I went to a cafe in Emporium with a friend. There were little white pots on the tables with shiny pairs of miniature silver tongs. Cue irrational excitement. Both brown and white sugar cubes! Sugar cube tongs! Sugar cube bowl thingies! It took enormous levels of self restraint to only drop a single sugar cube into my coffee, instead of just piling them in, one after the other. I was taking photos of the sugar cubes while my friend tried to tell me a story. Thankfully she understood and shared in my enthusiasm.

I have satisfied this childhood food quest. Now I just need to find somewhere that sells stripy jelly in perfect thin layers like they used to sell in China Town. Or Jenny Craig mac 'n' cheese. Or coffee scrolls. Or honey jumbles. 

Oh dear.

Becoming

I am writing my first real article for a 'real' publication, not a student newspaper or something run by a friend. I got here all by myself. I worry, though, that I will become trapped in a cycle of 'but this is more real', 'no this one, this is it', and never feel like I've actually Made It. And how perfect must this piece of writing be? In years to come will I cringe and regret, or be proud because hey, that was the first one?

I have a modest idea of success, but I still need to pay the bills.

My fringe has grown out a little and become softer, more flattering and feminine. It still traps hot air in the morning and fogs up the inner corners of my glasses. I am a quiet dragon rolling through the mists.

I bought a new lipstick called 'Corporate Femme'. The colour is dark red and the formula is oily and sits like a slick on my mouth.

I made a zine, printed some stickers, painted some coats and relaunched my Etsy.

My feet are no longer stuck in the muck and the mire and I have shaken the mould from my bones. For now, I am dancing.

I write. I bake I draw. The dishes pile p, but this is a good place, and I am here.

Fiction Project: #2 Review Books/Products/Films

You can see the first story in this series in my previous blog post!
This one is the sort of story that you get halfway through writing and become overwhelmed with the fear that you are plagiarising at least one other person. I am sure that the idea itself has been done before, but how closely am I ripping someone else off? I'm convinced that the best joke is something I've stolen from somebody else. For certain the story is influenced heavily by one in Trigger Warning, Neil Gaiman's most recent short story collection. Still, the point of this writing project isn't to produce phenomenal work, merely to produce any work at all. I always find my stories are very heavily influenced by whatever I've been reading or watching at the time, and it can be hard to disentangle myself from those influences. But I'm also convinced everything I write - or think about writing! - is a rip-off of somebody else. That's just the nature of things, I suppose, and it can be good exercise to write in established forms or to try and rewrite existing stories (as long as you're aware of what you're doing and the ethical/legal issues!). Anyway, with that not-at-all encouraging introduction, here's the story!

#2 Review books/products/films 

Dear [Redacted],
I am writing to compliment you on your excellent product, [redacted]. The description on your website said that I would notice results in just seven days, and it was absolutely correct! Already [Redacted] is looking much brighter and seems to have more energy. Yesterday she even managed to get out of bed and go for a little walk down the hallway. I’ve tried everything else I could think of, but [redacted] really seems to work! I will absolutely be recommending you to all my friends.
Yours,
[Redacted]

Dear Sir/Madam
Thank you for your feedback. We are glad to hear you like our product and are recommending it to your friends.
Please find attached a coupon for 10% off your next purchase.
Yours Sincerely,
[Redacted]
Public Relations Manager

Dear [Redacted],
I wrote to you a couple of weeks ago now in praise of [redacted]. Unfortunately in the intervening period, I have noticed some side effects that were not included in the product description. [Redacted] certainly has more energy – almost too much! – but the ‘youthful glow’ you described on the website is beginning to disturb the neighbours. Should we discontinue use of the product, or is there something else we can do to counteract it? I’ve already recommended it to so many people, and I’m sure you can understand how embarrassing it will be if I have to retract my praise!
Yours,
[Redacted]

Dear Sir/Madam,
Thank you for your feedback. After consultation with our experts, we must advise that you DO NOT discontinue use of [redacted]. If issues are occurring, we would advise you to close the blinds.
Please find attached a coupon for 10% off your next purchase.
Yours Sincerely,
[Redacted]
Public Relations Manager

Dear [Redacted],
This is the third time I’ve written to you about [redacted]. I’m sorry to say that I am now extremely unhappy with your product. The side effects have gotten worse. I won’t go into all the gory details (and they are gory) because surely they must have come up in your product testing (otherwise why are you putting a product onto the market without thoroughly testing it first?) but let’s just say the glowing I mentioned is the least of my problems now. I tried to contact my friends to tell them not to purchase [redacted] but I am no longer able to leave the house, and she’s ruined the telephone. I found the advice in your last correspondence rather flip, so I went onto your user forums to try and find out if any of your other customers have had the same problems. One of them gave me an incantation she’d been recommended and now there’s blood stains all over the carpet. I’ve half a mind to bill your company for the damages but I will be happy with a full refund.
Yours,
[Redacted]

Dear Sir/Madam,
Thank you for your feedback. Unfortunately we are unable to offer refunds at this time, as you have violated the user agreement by combining [redacted] with outside spells. After consultation with our experts, they have recommended baking soda and bleach for the blood stains.
Please find attached a coupon for 10% off your next order.
Yours Sincerely,
[Redacted]
Public Relations Manager

Dear [Redacted],
This is my fourth and unfortunately final correspondence. It pains me to have to send such negative feedback, but I want to see your company improve its products and testing so that others don’t have my experiences. Following the advice you sent me I never discontinued use of [redacted], and the results have been disastrous. I should have stopped when she first started exhibiting side effects, but I was so happy to see her up and about! Big mistake. Now she’s gone for good, and I’m afraid I don’t have much time left. Our property’s value has plummeted, what with the terrible smell, and I can’t get the smoke out of the house. I would warn my friends to avoid your company altogether, but it’s too late for them now. I will not be buying [redacted] or any of your other products in future.
Yours,
[Redacted]

Dear Sir/Madam,
Thank you for your feedback. We are sorry to hear that you were dissatisfied with [redacted], but rest assured in the knowledge that we will never lose your support. As you will find, 99% of those who purchase our products become customers for life.
Please find attached a coupon for 10% off your next purchase.
Yours Sincerely,
[Redacted]
Public Relations Manager