some advice!

the donts

- dont climb a tree that doesnt have any branches
- dont try to give your cat designer whiskers
- dont pull out an eyelash to wish upon (it hurts and the wish doesnt work)
- it isnt a good idea to use the kitchen fan as monkey bars
- if you walking along a dry creek bed, make sure it is actually dry first
- it isnt a clever thing to wade into the sea fully clothes (especially if you have to walk home)
- dont piss seagulls off (you will regret it)
- if you hear someone shout 'theres a dolphin!!!!' off of australia's south coast, get out of the water because it probably isnt a dolphin
- avoid dropping you mobile in a tin of paint (even if it is lime green paint, bree)
- gluesticks are not good for lunch (or breakfast)
- try not not to billycart down a hill that ends in the sea (or a lake)

the doos

- climb a tree if it has branches (and you like climbing trees)
- make sand angles on the beach
- be a daring but dont kill youself
- dance with you cat or dog (i dont reccomend goldfish though)
- watch a horror movie (preferably a GOOD one)
- paint each of your toenails a different colour
- paint each of you fingernails a different colour
- try going to school with a different hairstyle each day
- send youself a letter (or email)
- keep a record of how many hugs you give a day and try to beat it
- finish that sudoku puzzle even if it takes you all night
- have a penfriend (or penfriends)
- write a short story (only if you are not in my english class though)
- try your hand at a short film
- watch the sony trop short film fest each year
- watch a film in another language ( recomend amelie-french, blueprint-german and soundless-german)

AND FINALLY!!!!!!
- do take my advice =D

i have love and tears to fall...

listening to: wine red by the hush sound

painted by numbers by the sounds


well howdy folks. long time no type. blame kelsey for that. mind you, that email she sent me is the only reason im typing this so i think its a cancel out. :P thanks to myspace i have neglected this here poor blog. sorry bloggy.


i have a headache from listening to too much music today. not such a thing. but i still have a headache. check out the video for wine red on my myspace. its (as kelsey would say) uber cool.


myspace is a genius. i dont have tons of friends in my non school myspace page. about 40, all from other countries (except for Dibbo -bree-).

but on my schooly ppls one i only have 18 friends. i am reject oh well. two of those friends are from overseas too. emilia (anna) from sweden and iris from sunny spain (but its actually mexico) :)


i love the sounds.....they are brilliant. i have listened to living in america about 50 times today alone. and i love love love the sound of settling by death cab for cutie. i wonder why they are called that? i really should find out. kelsey....do you know?

i might go now but pippin and mollie (norah) just want to say hello first.
- and bree she doesnt have an identity crisis., i asked :P-


i think i will post wine red here too if it will finally work. i hope it will.

byebye folkies. i maybe will see you at the end of this week. let me think what is happening this week?
monday...BAND!!!! ahhhhh!!!!!
tuesday....swimming maybe, if i can be bothered
wednesday....great! swimming trials (sarcasm btw) and flute lesson (i really should do something about those scales)
thursday....definalty swimming and theory
friday....badminton kelsey? maybe. depeneds on your finger huh?

tomorow.....(sunday)more fence building. yay! i can bang in more nails. good stress reliever. wierd entry today. sorry. i will actually go now. right after i post pics of the sounds and the hush sound.

ok, i didnt go to lorne then. SORRY BREE!!!!!!!! but we are going next week, which should be better (no seaweed- i heard that lorne was coverered in seaweed! yuk!)(well, the beach anyway). at the moment it is sort of not hot. it is a very cool 23 degrees ( with humidity) but tuesday was BAD!!!! it reached 40 degrees inside our house and in the car! well, it was hot! yesterday was very nice, cloudy with a bit of humidity. HA! im talking about the weather. how cliche. it is a bit disturbing to hear on the news though that while houses are being burned, people are dying and there are lots of power outages here in victoria and nsw, that in the states houses are being lost, people are dying and there are massive power outages because of the exact opposite! ahhhh, i dream of snow in these hot hot times. but i like summer (i say that now while it is lovely and cool) i think i shoudl be the opposite of a goose and migrate north for summer. or maybe just plain migrate north full stop. permanently. snow in winter (that christmas in England was bliss!) and cool crisp (occasionaly hot- well a bit more that occasionaly) sunny days in summer. perfect weather- in my opinion of course.

anyway, that shall all go in smallprint because it is stupid babble.
today i am going to sovereign hill. and as i told you (if you read it which i doubt) next week is beautiful sunny lorne and BEACHES!!!!! we will be there for australia day and hopefully there will be some celebrations on the beachfront. and i think we will be there for the fair they hold. its a bit crappy but its sweet, and over the years i have found some good buys. we missed a carnival on the oval (but it sounded horrible)- mind you, that is my grandma talking (and my dad).

the cats are as cute as ever!!!!! pippin is at the moment sitting in the middle fo the kitchen and yowling because he cant find anyone and so hes not getting any attention. he craves attention and people. molly is probably sitting in a corner somewhere having a nice doze. she doesnt need so much attention- though sometimes she does need people to play with! anyway- they are cute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and i love them. tons.

the tennis is going. australian open. and apparently the favourites for the mens final are roger federer and andy roddick!!!! ahhhh!!!!!! you might have gathered from the chat boxes that andy did beat (WORLD NUMBER ONE!) roger federer at the kooyong in sydney. but it was an unofficial match so it wasntrecorded! HA!!!!!! if they do both make it to the final, kelsey, if we watch it together like you suggested. i am a bit worried there might be a murder by the end of it. lol. only joking. anywhoodawhistle. better wrap this up and get ready for dressups!!! (sovereign hill). oh! hello pippin. say hello on my blog


good boy. that was pippin saying hello. :)
so ciao for niaow (hehehe it rhymes!)
bye!!!!

beAch!! BeacH!! bEACh!! bEach!! beaCH!!
Chapter Five
Wicked flames leap tall around mighty trees. All animals flee from the fire and the night is screaming with the cries of wildlife and the sounds of burning bush. A line of soldiers weaves carefully through the flames until they reach a wide sandy beach. In front of then, in the silent moonlit ocean, sit the ominous forms of enemy sea craft. Behind them the flames still rage through the trees, sending ash and smoke up into the air. The small band of men walks down the water which is glowing red. One man dips his hand into the waves and splashes it over his face. Suddenly he reels backwards, clawing at his face.
“Blood! Blood!” he shouts wildly. The other men try to hush him in panicked whispers. They turn to look at the water again and realise with cold horror what the panicked man meant. The sea, which they had thought to be red with the flames reflection, was in fact an ocean of blood. All the men spin around, retching, only to find themselves encircled by dark figures holding guns. Suddenly, the backdrop of flames dissolves and all men, enemies and allies, are standing on an island of blood red sand surrounded by a sea of shadows. Turing wildly, Peter sees that the ocean too has disappeared and they are surround by enemy soldiers on all sides. One man tries to run towards the enemy but he is shot dead before he has made three steps, the gunshots echoing loudly; mocking them. Peter feels a touch on his shoulder and turns to find Annie staring into his eyes. But she is not Annie as he last saw her, she is the Annie he fell in love with when they were both young; her dark hair pinned back neatly and her thoughtful eyes painted with simple makeup. He glances up at a sharp sound, to see one of his enemies raising his gun, the barrel pointing directly at Annie. As the bullet leaves the gun in a violent explosion, Peter throws himself in front of her. He feels the sharp jab as the bullet enters his heart and as the scene disappears around him he faintly hears a bird singing. Its tune calls to his aching body, calls for relief and for an end to it all.
Gasping for air he wakes in bed to realise the pain wasn’t in his dream. It is the same pain he felt earlier and as his arms and legs go numb he knows he is dying. Suddenly in his mind, everything comes before him. The horrors of the war fade with his sight and the love for his dear Annie surrounds him like a cloud, making the last pains of death vanish.
So, gently, in the middle of the night, in a silent and empty house, Peter Sameth dies.
Finally at peace.

i still dont knwo what to call this story, but name or not it is finished now and all here, on my blog. so like it or lump it. boy oh boy it is really hot today. the cats are just puddles of melting icecream, the trees are limp biscuits wilting from the hot tea, i am a sleeping lioness under the shade of the only tree for miles in the wide grassy plains of africa. hmmm...metaphors. pretty bad ones too. sorry bout that.

well, am going to the beach tomorow with bree (anonymouse to you). i hope we can go swimming- it should be hot enough thats for sure. but i bet it will be PACKED!! i got tons of new summer clothes recently. i got two three quetr pants, two pairs of shorts, three singlets, one tshirt one long sleeved shirt and one pair of bathers (bikini). i am in love with my bathers and i cant wait till i can wear them. they are the most perfect pair i have ever had. they are a colour called marine blue and they have the most perfect cut, design, shape whatever! they are cool! also, i found the most WICKED pair of shoes at a discount store but CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!!!!! they had it in every size but mine...EVERY OTHER SIZE!!!! i hate that sooooooooooo much!!! anyway, i have also recently fallen in love with michael buble (thats isnt pronounced bubble though). he is dangerously handsome and has such a great vioce!!! ahhhhh....sorry roger, your on the backseat until you win the australian open again. and... THE HOPMAN CUP DOESNT HAVE SWITZERLAND IN IT!!!!! how could they????????? anytootle, id better choof off and do somehting useful. i hope you like the rest of my story, see you next week dear glog blog and cheerio to....ahhh who am i kidding...no one is actually reading this!

more story + help me think of a name for it!!

here i am again. im hoping to finish this story on my blog before i go away to the beach so there will probably be quite a few posts over the next few days. at the moment im listening to 'fire, fire fire' by dappled cities fly. i bought with an itunes voucher i got for christmas. i also ought 'we are amphibious' by children collide. seriously wierd song but really cool. its got a great beat. anyway, back to business. ive got two more chapters of the book written up. only one more long one (the conclusion) to go. but heres the deal, i need a name for the book. im hopeless with names. can anyone help me???????????? also, here are some more cool hoop tricks. the photographs are elena lev, amazingly talented hoopist (is that the right word?) who i saw in alegria by the cirque.



Chapter Three
Every night almost Peter wakes screaming from some terrible dream. Then he always makes himself a strong cup of tea with a dash of whisky and goes to sit in his garden. He always sits on the right side of the garden bench he made for Annie when they got engaged and this night is no different. Sitting there he talks to Annie, her memory a heavy weight of sorrow on the bench next to him. As daylight chases away the stars he stirs from his thoughts and stands, his old bones creaking from having sat it the same position for hours. Now calmed, his nightmare only a memory, Peter begins to walk back towards the house. A frenzied barking close by startles him, he pauses then detours round the side of his house and open the sturdy wooden gate. As soon as it is open enough a small yapping torpedo on legs races past Peter’s feet into the garden.
“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry sir” gasps a flushed young lady puffing up to the gate, “Licker! Licker, come here you bad dog! Licker! I’m sorry sir –sometimes he is so disobedient. He was chasing a cat, it must have gone into your garden.
“That’s all right love” replies Peter slightly amused and the crazy dogs antics, “I’m sure we can catch him between us.”

Chapter Four
He leads the way back round to the garden where he sees the Jack Russel jumping up at the fence. On top of the brick fence sits the neighbours ginger cat, peering down quizzically at the small dog. Peter moves round to the other side of the fence, the dog doesn’t even notice him its so intent on its prey.
“We can probably corner him. You move in from the other side” Peter instructs the young lady. They move in slowly until Peter is inches from the dog. He reaches out a hand to grab hold of the collar but at the last moment it darts sideways and escapes. They both the dog around the garden for ten minutes until puffed, it suddenly stops, looking them happily with its tongue hanging out. The lady clips on its lead, all the while scolding the dog and apologising to Peter.
“Its fine love. Don’t worry about it. Used to have one m’self, they can be a handful cant they? What with all that energy and that.
He sees the lady and Licker off then returns to his kitchen. Puffing slightly with the unexpected exercise he begins to make breakfast. Just as he is pouring milk over a bowl of cereal he feels an immense pain, jabbing in his heart. Leaning over and groaning he clutches his chest as the pain spread in spears of agony all over his body. He crashes to his knees as the world begins to spin and he finds it hard to breathe. Then, slowly, he can feel the pain receding from his limbs and the kitchen floor comes back into focus. Panting, he stands leaning heavily on the bench. He notices the milk spilt all over the floor; he must have dropped it.
“No use crying over spilt milk” he comments dryly. He collapses into the nearest chair and immediately falls asleep, exhausted from the pain.
Hours later, in the late afternoon he wakes. His neck and back ache from the position he has been sleeping in and crease marks from his shirt cross his face like harsh scars.
Gently, he gets to his feet and stumbles upstairs. In his bedroom he pulls the curtains and climbs into bed. Instantly he falls asleep again, oblivious to the world outside.

CHRISTMAS peoples!!!!!!

so that was christmas.

three books, two cats, four dvds, one turkey,

and too many chocolates later here i am.

ok, way down below is a story i have written if you dont want to read this. well, maybe you dont want to read that either....whatever.(note** it is not the bit of writing in this colour)

one thing i got for christmas which i am really happy with is two different sized hula hoops. i had read about hula hooping as keeping you very fit and i had also previously seen it as a pretty cool act in cirque du soleil (first video link on the right). so now i have two hoops an dim having lots of fun. you can use them the traditional way (around the waist) or you can do that around you feet, knees, neck, hands anywhere really. you can also mix them up with rythmic gymnastic moves like tossing the hoop in the air and catching it again with various dance steps in between. its a lot of fun and im not so unco anymore either. the photos are of circus performance hoop acts. pretty cool huh?

ok. i have written a short story (it might not seem short here but trust me it is). you dont have to read it unless you want to. note** not all of the story is here. i cant type it up all at once so i will do maybe a few chapter at a time. expect the rest of the story soon peoples!!

Chapter One
A row of hunched figures silhouetted again a sky of burning amber wade through an ocean of rippling bodies. The young soldiers brush aside pleading hands and avert their eyes from the agonised faces staring up at them. Some men hum, their eyes closed to the sights as if try to kid themselves they are somewhere else. Another man, close to the front of the line, beats at the hands with his gun. His fear and sorrow for those he cannot help has turned into a mad anger.
As the first star appears in the glow of the setting sun, one young boy stumbles, then falls as he is pulled in by the hungry dead. His screams and pleading go unnoticed by his fellow soldiers, for they have been listening to the cries of the bodies and vultures for hours. Suddenly, a different sound echoes in the distance, a slow rumble which makes the heads of the men flick up instantly. Their bloodshot eyes grow panicked and they begin to yell as they see their death approaching them from the sky. Men try to run in every direction, howling out nonsense sounds of fear, pain and love. As the last drop of sunlit sky falls, disappearing into the night, a high whistle sounds and all eyes are drawn to an object hurtling towards then. For one second before it hits, all the soldiers stop screaming, no vultures cry from the sky and the high pitched kettle whistle ceases. Then suddenly the world erupts in an obliteration of white light and flying bodies.

Chapter Two
Peter Sameth wakes, crying out for his dead friends, sweat drenches his pillow and his arms reach into the darkness for the broken bodies of his comrades. His 85-year-old bones ache with the pain he felt so many years ago and his heart beats a rapid message of fear. He can smell the gunpowder and taste the ash until slowly, his nightmare melts away into dark. Breathing heavily he kicks away the covers and rolls hid feet out onto the rough carpet, searching for his slippers with his toes. Heaving himself out of the small bead he gropes on the small side table for the light. As the harsh glow of the fluorescent bulb penetrates the darkness of his room, Peter sighs, feeling all the years of his life as he stands wearily. His nightly dreams chase away any sleep he hoped of getting.
He slowly descends the stairs of his small townhouse, easing his weight down, step by step. As he passes a piece of paper in a simple black frame he glances at the citation. Annie was so adamant that it should be on show, and he hadn’t had the heart to take it down after she died.
“Peter” she used to say when he grumbled about it being on display, “You’ve served your country. You fought for what was good and true. Everyone should know this and you should be proud.” There was never any point in arguing with his dear Annie, not when she had her mind set on something. If he’d had his way that damned piece of paper would have stayed in the draw along with his meddles. Sighing again he reaches the bottom step and turns into the kitchen.

chapter three and more coming soon. watch this space (well, the space above anyway) :)

some poems by...you guessed it!

homeless
people going home to a warm and cosy house,
pass by the slums quiet as a mouse.
forlorn figures crouch, lost to humankind,
some feeble and some injured, others with no mind.
the streets are dark and empty, the building old and worn.
in the alleyways and parks, huddle helpless forms.
occasionally they whisper, meaningless conversation
thier dark and sunken eyes reflect thier desperation.
the smog hides the stars and no people ever go by,
no one seems to care, if these people die.
they are hoping for a miracle, but hoping in vain,
they are doomed to forever feel, a lonely rejects pain.
darkness creeps around them and a crow emits a call,
sadness fills thier faces as the snow begins to fall.


the descention
the lords silver moonlight,
tumbles,
through the open window next to the shadowy bed.
frail features,
lie exposed to the silver blade of light.
pale eyelashes flickering slightly.

the angelic appearance,
of the dying lady,
simply a deception.

“lord accept her soul into heaven”
the words whispered in the awing room.
this lady,
known for her good deeds,
she should surely be granted a place above the stars,
no doubt in the priests mind.

the past,
evolves often,
into a very different,
present.
but always affects,
a future.

the lashes flicker and lie still,
the soft rise of the bony chest ceases,
the priest raises his eyes to the heavens,
thinking her soul to have ascended.

but,
as the saintly thought woman dies,
far, far away,
in a dimension unknown,
flames lick around the flat-soled shoes,
of the lady.

as she descends.


everty
his face,
his eyes,
his hair,
his arms,
his smile,
his way of moving,
his laughter,
his sweet, sweet scent.

tormented by his memory,
haunted by his spirit.

blank eyes,
slack mouth,
motionless hands.
a grieving widow.

ever to see…
never to see…

Him.


stranger

the rain was pouring down,
when the stranger arrived.
walking about the town,
nightclub alive!

she entered through Gold,
as if of a queen.
told of stories old,
and where she had been.

the belief in her,
lead to her name.
cowboy with spur,
hunter with game.

so on that night,
the maiden arrived
through lights shinning bright,
she made me alive

that poem is really random. i just found it in my documents on our computer so i think i wrote it. it had y name underneath it so i guess i must have. but i must have been high at the time or something.
soryr if these poems are too depressing. :)