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Tuesday: around 10.45
I reluctantly get off msn to my mother yelling at me for not doing enough work – starting work but not finishing – not giving her my washing which was subsequently followed by “well don’t fucking wash them I’ll wear a dirty shirt like I care” “yes because that’s what we do Sarah, wear dirty shirts… If you weren’t so focused on the internet and you concentrated more on work…” At which point she was on the track of her usual daily rant about me not putting enough time into school work and not being focused on what is important. Fortunately cut short, unfortunately by a huntsman spider on her wall. We live in a two story house and the 2nd story is generally warmer which I guess is the reason why there are always huntsman spiders on the level my parents and I live on. Problem 1 – my dad, although generally acceptable when it comes to getting rid of a spider (who cares how), is actually in
Kiribati at this moment (I think) and so he is unreachable. Also my brother (19) has begun to see the house as a kind of drop in point amongst his prime concerns, being; his girlfriend, work, his girlfriend, uni and his girlfriend – hence being unavailable as well (although he isn’t much use in terms of getting rid of spiders anyway – preferring the method of capture with a clear bucket so you are as far away as possible.) Then there is my mother – I really think she has arachnophobia (fear of spiders), I really do. The second I heard “oh SHIT” I didn’t even need to ask, I asked anyway, probably for my own amusement. She followed up with some short bursts of cursing Tim (my brother) and some crying. I’m not sure why though, I think she honestly thought I would be cruel enough to leave her standing in the hallway 8m away from the spider like it could jump and attach itself onto her neck. “Stop crying, why the heck do you need to get so worked up its only a spider” and yes I am all talk. Problem 2 – the spider, fucking genius, was crouched in its perfect little spot where its utopia, the curtain, was only cm’s away. I fucking hate spiders – tiny heads yet they’re smart enough to hide where their hardest to get rid of. Anyway so I had to make my mum stand 4m away (which was a stretch for her) then I had to pull the curtain back with my hand (my hand, honestly, my brother should be doing this stuff.) Armed with a rolled up newspaper, a shoe, and fly spray – Fully equipped coz this spider was hugeeeee… ok no… but it was an average size. The spider ran – I wasn’t really expecting that and I wasn’t close enough to it so I aimed and pegged the rolled up newspaper at it. My mum is the type of person who will stand very far away but still scream and shout like they were a rulers length away.. Luckily enough it was a perfect shot.. But it just made the spider fall onto the ground gracefully, a bit hurt, but well enough to run towards mums bed. With nothing to throw but what was on hand, I resorted to throwing the flyspray, which only smashed the can into bits and had foamy shit spraying all over her floor. Now this is about almost the only time I can get away with screaming fuck as loud as I can. So I clearly took advantage of this opportunity with a nice loud “FUCKKKK” – then the smarmy little spider decides to run up onto mums bed “it’s on your fucking bed mum” (oops she didn’t like that idea) – high pitched sounds, something along the lines of “get me a shoe” followed by mum running around trying to find me a shoe… then I flicked it onto the ground… it still tried to run. I lined up the (ugly) brown sandal and brought it down harder than I planned to with mum cheering “YES! Kill it!” – We are quite the murderers, my family. “My hero”… then I vacuumed the remnants of body left, and went to bed.
It only took me something like 5 minutes to kill the spider – but dead set when I was finished I was breathing harder than when I play soccer and I was shaking really fucking bad. I really fucking hate spiders. (ps you can say thanks for the pointless story… I really dont care.)
D.A.N.C.E
Meg and Dia – Courage, Robert.
He saw a lonely girl.
She saw a lonely world.
It was a canvas,
slyly careless.
A florestan lieder.
And his was a dying breed.
Courage came only from
his symphonies.
A decorative smile
to fade out.
His concerto in A
Come on.
A second chance at love.
The moments dead.
Make you feel like it’s never staying.
Made love to a baby grand.
A tempest refined inside his hands.
He had one girl, and one song.
Bone fide wine and roulade.
But he had to give it up.
His heart was raw.
But his fingers numb.
His first words were his last words.
An aesthete since first sun.
Come on.
A second chance at love.
The moments slept.
Make you feel like it’s never staying.
It burned.
The first attempt or two.
But I remembered you.
I need that moment back.
Please don’t, don’t don’t.
A tremor for death.
Ivories that sliced sedatives in half.
Releif in the Rhine.
Washed away regrets.
And let him char before he
carressed the ground.
Dear artist you will rise again.
A last arabesque in faint fashion.
Come on.
A second change at love.
The moments dead.
Make you feel like it’s never ending.
It burned.
The first attempt or two.
But I remembered you.
I need that moment back.
Please don’t forget.
He woke.
A final view of blue.
Dear cordias. Wet rouge.
Relieve romance to graves.
Please, please don’t forget
“Well that’s the sound of freedom, son” he said.
(Free to say no more.)
But wait a minute dad, did you actually say freedom?
Well, if you’re dumb enough to vote,
You’re fuckin dumb enough to believe him.
Cuz if this country is so goddam free,
Then I can burn your fucking flag wherever I damn well please.
I carried their anthem, convinced it was mine.
Rhymeless, unreasoned conjecture kept me in line.
But then I stood back and wondered what the fuck had they done to me.
Made accomplice to all that I’d promised I would never fucking be.
- Propagandhi (not all of the song)
Im to lazy to write my own blog so im leaving this open for anyone to comment; I havent looked at this topic in any kind of political depth.
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