Self harm doesn't make you special and I never ran with the herd.

You know it was a good night when you wake up covered in blood.

You know it was a great one when you're sure it isn't all your own.

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Blood falls like tear drops,
Rain sheets of miracles.
Answer my prayers,
But wont pick up your phone.
Here today,
gone tomorrow.

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Who needs loving relationships when you can just throw money done a well whilst stabbing yourself in the kidneys?

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If i came out all the girls would love me.
And they'd let me watch them try on clothes.
This is why straight boys wish they were gay.

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Can you taste it in the air..?

You're the needle in the crook of my arm,

you're the blade against my wrist,

you're the powder on my bench,

you're my one, and only. You're the one that kills me.
And i love you.

black/WHITE

wrong/RIGHT
heads/TAILS
win/FAIL
love/HATE

Where'd all the fucking Grey come from?

Computer hum, caffeine buzz.

Sitting here basking in the glow of my computer screen. And in the warmth of distant, cyber arms.
The computer can be like a warm hug some times. It's just the friend you need. These blinking squares below are friends, communicating but distant.
The best thing about IM is you can turn and walk away without even saying goodbye.
I haven't done this in a while. Shit, I barely ever use MSN any more. I just don't need to. People are around when i want to talk to them.
Eh, stuff this, i don't really have anything interesting to say here.
I'm just feeling nostalgic.
Session end.

Losing Time, Losing Mind.

I remember being depressed. Sometimes I still get that way. Recently, I haven't been feeling so crash hot but nothing like I was.
What it got me thinking about was: When did the depression go away? I honestly can't track it. One day I'm ready to put a hollow point through my own face to stop the pain, the next I'm worrying about what shoes to wear with which tie.
Shit, I got boring. Or I realised the futility of drama.

So from an insiders point of view, and with retrospect, I'm going to try and rationalize my depression. This will go three ways. Either we'll get there. Or we wont. Or it'll come back. And then you'll be seeing a lot more of me here.

So. I think it started with my mum. And Hollie. Fuck.
Hollie. My first girlfriend. That was not a good relationship. That was not healthy. I was terrified of her. Of what she could do to me. Of how she made me feel. I'm glad we happened. I'm also glad we're over. Funny thing. I can't really remember anything about her. Anything much at all. It's like it just didn't matter. Lost my virginity to that girl. Doesn't mean shit to me.
And my mum. Hollie and my mum go hand in hand. Mainly 'cause Hollie was there to see it go bad.
My mum and her fuckin' drinking. Drink drink drink. And then shit would hit the fan. Wanna read more about it? Hit this http://newuseforvintage.blogspot.com my old blog. Bitch has a whole page to herself.
Anyway. I think the bad feelings started there. But it all got repressed. Then Lucy came along.
I'm going to firmly place the blame on her.
It's terribly harsh but I feel if she hadn't been as much of a... [I typed bitch here but that's not the word. She was just a 17 year old girl who wasn't in love with me]... to me as she was I wouldn't of gotten bad enough to trigger everything.
But once I was down. It didn't go back up.
Never self harmed. I pride myself on that one. Seems like everybody does it.
Ate a lot of downers though. I think Molly still has footage somewhere of me necking 9 or 10 during a webcam conversation.
Fuck. Jesus shit. Thinking about it now, I'm surprised I'm still alive.
I was so over everything. I was so ready to go.
It's funny. I think what kept me from offing myself was the fact that I let myself be a bad person. That gets me in trouble. The fact that I *embrace* your pain. But it saved me.
I didn't kill myself. I just did my best to destroy her.
Made her cry, made her doubt, made her miss me. Let her go in the end but still.
Lucy. Your pain was my therapy.

Feeling that way was not fun. I'm glad I'm better now. I firmly believe I was sick for a period of time but like any sickness it can get better with the right medication. Or the right care.

I also wanted to add to this, just in case she reads it:
B, I fucking love you. Sorry for invading your privacy. Sorry for doubting you.
Xx

I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love.

I'm run down, exhausted from work and the stress of moving house. I'm so fucking anti social right now. I just can't help it, all these people around me make me sick. I just want them THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!
Seriously.
After the other night, i dunno. Kixxy left and i felt so down. Weird isn't it, when you're feeling lonely you just want to be by yourself?
It's starting to affect the rest of my life. I'm not sleeping too well at the moment, so that affects my work. And when I don't work well I get depressed, and then i don't sleep well.

Not to mention affecting my relationship.
Gah, let's not even start on that one.

Sometimes I wish I was dying. Not for any depressive reason. Just for something to DO.
Life would be interesting if I only had a few months left. I'd doom everyone and just do my own thing.
I think about dying a lot. I imagine lying in some hospital bed somewhere, hooked up to machines beeping and purring. Extending my heartbeat but shortening my life.
I'd be there and I'd call someone. In my imagination it's often Griffin. I'd say
"dude, I can't be here any more. Come out here and get me" He'd come to the hospital and we'd talk for a bit, he'd be telling me that if he unhooked the drips then I'd start to die. I'd have maybe 24 hours left on my own two feet.
I'd make an impassioned speech about not wanting to die "in this stinking, corpse ridden hospital". I'd get dressed and he'd help me out the door, sneak me past orderlies who'd wrestle me back inside if they caught me.
I imagine I'd stagger in to my store in subiaco. If I'm going to die I'll do it in a comfy chair with a big fat cigar in my hand.
The girls would be on shift and they'd be dismayed that I was there, of course they'd know all about what was happening. I'd push past them and select a cigar. Something nice and big, damn the price. I'd have an argument with Simon because he'd want me to go back to the hospital.
And tell him to go fuck himself. I'd pay for it myself, because I fucking earned it, and who cares anyway? I wont need the money soon enough.
And I'd leave.
But here's the thing.
In my mind.
At the end of this fantasy.
I see myself sitting somewhere, maybe on my balcony, and I've made all the important phone calls. I've said my goodbyes. And I'm alone.
I'm sitting there alone puffing on my cigar and slowly, I slip away.
At that point in time. I'm happiest.

I don't wish I was dying. But I really want to be alone.

Bitch and Whinge...

Seriously, I hate everyone sometimes.
In fact. More often than not.

I'm stressed and sick. I want 5 days off just to sit in the dark and cold, read, play games. Essentially just be by myself to gather my thoughts and get rested up.

*sigh* bad mood day.

Later, dude...

This window's been open for 27 minutes now. I can't think of how to say this. I can't find a way to say it poetically. Or fitting with the theme of this blog.
Fuck it
Kixxy. I'm so fucking proud of you.
You've gotten your shit together and grown so much in the time I've known you.
I don't know how it happened, side by side we're not a likely set. Hell, looking at how you were I'm not totally sure why I spoke to you.
You were there for me. And I've done my best to be there for you.
And though we don't talk like we used to, you're off doing your own stuff more now-a-days, I like to think you still feel you can count on me.
I'd give you the blood from my veins and the beat from my heart if you asked for it.
I hope you know it.


Though I feel like what you don't know....
...is how much I'm going to fucking miss you when you're gone.

Smoking X's

It's Tuesday, November 3rd, and Today at midday is the Melbourne Cup. The race that stops the nation. What does this mean to me? the race that stops the foot traffic. I haven't had a customer for two hours and the race is just about to start.
I have also spent most of today chewing on what is one of my top five all time favourite cigars - the Arturo Fuente's Opus X.
This is a Dominican cigar produced by the Fuente family in limited quantities which packs a real punch for it's petit corona size. Even just having it in my mouth sucking air through it i can taste the rich cinnamon, spice and strong leather characteristics more than actually smoking some other cigars.
So as the race stops the nation I'm going to stop, swing shut the door and settle back with what i know is a winner every time. Come along with me....

First thought - You'd think working in a cigar shop I'd have a reliable lighter wouldn't you? Note to self - All display lighters should be fully gassed.

The first draw of this cigar and I'm immediately hit with a plethora of flavours. This is definitely a full bodied cigar and I'm glad I had lunch before lighting this up. Another thing i love about it is the draw - it is also reliable, smooth with just the right amount of resistance. I like my cigars a lot firmer than most people but it is more about the cigar giving me something to chomp on than the draw itself. I chew my cigars pretty hard so a tight cigar is perfect for me. This little Opus has a perfect draw without any work but it is still rock hard. I don't know how they do it.

It's been about five minutes now since i lit up and the store is looking lovely, long thick white ribbons of smoke are hanging in the air and curling around me. From couch hopping so much (not to mention dealing with draconian anti smoking laws) i often forget the true pleasures of smoking in doors.
I'm also getting a look at the beginnings of the firm white ash that is so trademark for Dominican cigars. I love Cuban cigars, their flavour profile is diverse and they are recognized worldwide but I must say their rolling often falls short of the expectations. An uneven burn is almost expected whereas you could use the ash on this one to line up shelving it's that straight.

Halfway through the cigar now and I'm feeling slightly zonked out. My one complaint with this cigar is it does leave me feeling a little bit green. It comes in a robusto size as well (little bit shorter but much wider) and i haven't been game to smoke it yet because of this.

I've de-banded the cigar now as it was in danger of singeing. And this band is truly a work of art. The Fuente cigars are always really beautiful to look at.
The cigar itself is really starting to get in to the "zone" now. The oils are all igniting and it's smoking thicker and creamier than ever. There's strong pepper flavours coming through now along with a heavy leather smell.
As a child I would often hang out on my neighbours farm (a mere 5 kilometres away) and they would have their cows in these huge barns. This cigar reminds me of this. The heavy air and earthy, natural smell.

My fingers are starting to hurt a little now, the burn is down that far, and the trickle of people coming past the store is starting to turn back in to the flow of a busy day. It's time to put this cigar down, air out the shop and find out who the hell won the race.
No matter if i lost money or made a killing i think this Melbourne Cup was a winner for me.

Bored to tears... or worse, poetry.

It's the echoing, aching sound of silence, filling up my head like luke warm cotton wool.
It's the stifling, gagging, choking emptiness. It's boredom manifest and born anew.
This is heavy to the point it hurts, my brain is burning itself out looking for ways of distraction.
Boredom is such a manifestly human thing. The fact that we experience physical pain when not being stimulated in someway is astounding. Surely we are the only animal that goes through this?
Hmmm, the worst thing about being bored at work is it's then coupled with the guilt of not doing anything and not making money for the company.

On a brighter note I have officially "got" the apartment. I will be moving in on wednesday afternoon, really looking forward to it. Get my shit in and finally have a base to work from. Somewhere which isn't a house, it'll be my home.
I have big plans for this place, for what i'll do with the space it has to offer. Helps that I've got the cash to do some interesting things too :-)
I'm thinking of going in a very modern art, factory direction.
And it will be so good to be central again! I am very definately a city kid, maybe it comes from growing up on a farm but i hate being out of the hustle and bustle of the city for too long. The suburbs drive me insane. And look, we're back to the boring subject again HAHAH.
Anyway, off for now.

Home is where the heart is

So it looks like i'm on track to finding my own place. I wont bore you with the saga of how i became displaced because, honestly, this is for me and I don't want to go through it all again.
Suffice to say, shit went down and there was yours truly curbside with a duffel bag.
Anyway, currently trying to wrangle enough money to apply for the place and then I'll be able to move in. I'm feeling pretty confident.

Let's get this party started.

New life,
New Clothes,
New Home,
New blog.

Seems right to me. I'll make official the abandonment of my previous pages (newuseforvintage.blogspot.com for those who're interested) and we'll start this show all over again.
So raise the curtains, the gilded trumpet blares.
The party's starting children, lose your worries and your cares.

we're all friends here, kiddies, we're here to share.

Oh no, rhyme and rhythm, my mistake.

I'm going to try and use this a little more personally. I'm going to make this a dumping ground for what's going on in my head, rather than what i want you to read so you THINK it's going on in my head. Really, i was just playing with you before.

Welcome to my playground.