Monday, January 18, 2010

Introducing ‘Patient X’.

They found you sulking in the corner of the room, blubbering forth a series of incoherent syllables that never quite morphed in status to words. Your weathered features, punctuated with mismatched hues of yellow, green and blue, sparked a level of sympathy often reserved for the congenitally infirm. It was a miracle that you were still alive, as the fall had rendered your legs useless, yet there you were, waiting patiently for rescue. It is the one thing you can do well - wait. Wait for someone else to do whatever it was that needed to be done, wait for someone else to take the blame, wait for time to pass by and maybe - just maybe, everyone would forget all the bad stuff. They didn't know this about you, and the bruises did not let on that there was a secret to be told. And so you babbled, like a Pentecostal baptised in the Holy Spirit, savouring the attention and relieved that you would soon be warm, comfortable and well fed.

I watched them gently wrap your disjointed limbs with a series of bandages, swathe your soul with tender words of encouragement, love and purpose. It was more than you knew you deserved, but why would you tell them that? You saw no reason to stop the pretence, no reason to admit that you had done nothing to deserve such kindness. I watched as they registered their newly scrubbed John Doe into a private hospital ward, and I waited too, knowing that mine was a game of patience, more so than yours.

You saw the pity in their eyes as each of them talked to you, trying to elicit a memory, a cord of life that could be used to reel in information that might help solve this puzzle. And it worked. It worked because your memory was never broken to begin with, just your ability to articulate the role you played in developing each and every one of them. I was the only one privy to these buried visions. You took solace from their faces, using the pity that percolated with ongoing tenacity to affirm the story that would now become your mask. I had anticipated this, as all too often I had found myself shackled to you, forced to listen to the lies that tumbled from your mouth at every opportunity. You sat mute through their questions, your eyes glazed in pretence of amnesia. I, on the other hand, listened to the memories launch themselves around your head.

Each question asked of you was littered with judgement. Never for you though. They were too taken by the beguiling nature of your age; your injuries duped them into believing that you had suffered more than any human deserved. Their scorn was reserved for those whom they deemed as being responsible for your fate. You and I both know that is you. You are responsible for this; I will never cease to tell you this. You will hear my voice as a constant reminder of the role you played in this. I know you will take solace from these people, as I take mine from time. You cannot escape time, you cannot escape me.

*All feedback welcome. I would love to hear what you think, improvements that can be made, and who you think the narrator is*

Friday, January 15, 2010

Saturday, January 9, 2010

One day at a time ...

I made a mistake at work, online to be more specific and it affected my work place. I teach, I was in a position of Leadership. I got annoyed, felt used and abused, became stressed, and still work ploughed on, mauling its way through people's lives. I was stuck, couldn't debrief, so I updated. Facebook that is. Yep, I can hear the online groan. It's like watching a B grade horror movie, 'Don't do it,' the audience shouts. Unfortunately, I didn't hear, didn't listen if I am to be more precise. I had a little voice asking me what I was doing, but flicked it out. My Facebook is set to private, and I have the right to vent; right? Wrong.

Lesson one: Don't have people on Facebook who will take the opportunity to show your Boss your status.

Lesson two: Delete most people from Facebook until you know who you can trust with your life.

Lesson three: Ignore the fact that your employer says that a policy is not needed for online identities, despite the fact that people are getting in 'trouble' for online activities. Write a policy yourself.

Lesson four: Get it all out. The anger at yourself (for being really, really stupid), and the anger at the person who used this opportunity to further their own career to the detriment of yours.

Lesson five: Remember that EVERYTHING happens for a reason. It's time to take stock, re-assess your career, what you want out of working, and focus on your other endeavours. I find myself three weeks into the five and a half week summer holidays. I am relaxing, writing a bit, happy with where things are at. I've moved on. Now I am able to explain the poems.

Iscariot's Rope is about myself and the person who showed my boss my Facebook status. I know, deep down, that I ignored the little voice in my head that was warning me not to update my status, but I still find myself incensed at the self righteousness of the person who showed my private Facebook page to my boss. I know what my motives were, and question hers. I was her mentor when she first started, hence the Judas reference. Betrayal from someone considered a close ally is even more horrifying than most acts of betrayal. It is as if one of the prerequisites for moving up the corporate ladder is to cut someone else down; the rope waits patiently for its next victim, and there will always be someone willing and able to assist the rope.

I felt stifled by the increasing restrictions that were being placed on me and my colleagues. Restrictions and levels of censorship that seemed to have no rhyme or reason, restrictions that people were being expected to work out for themselves. My workplace became quite Orwellian, mimicking elements of Nineteen Eighty-four. And like Winston Smith I looked around and saw so many people who seemed to accept all of these restrictions as commonplace and necessary.

I penned MMIX with the intention to link the events of 2009 to Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-four. I found that the word censorship had origins during the time of the Roman Senate, and I really liked the explanations of the role of the Censura, monitoring the public morality of the citizens. It definitely had an 'every man for him/ herself' feel to it, and this is what my workplace had started to feel like. Writing MMIX made me realise I was well rid of the rut I had found myself in. I didn't lose my job, but found that the career ladder suddenly turned into a slippery slope. I was unhappy at the time, but it certainly was a blessing in disguise.

Twitterazzi was written specifically for Nathan Bransford's Competition. I liked what I wrote, but I am sure not everyone did. My dad, for one, hates it. He says it is too violent, and it is. But that is what I work with, that is what my school can be like at times, that is what I read in the papers each and every day. What do people do about it? Not a whole lot. People complain that things are too violent, my dad complains that what I wrote was too violent. However, it is real, and in it's 'realness' people have to ask themselves what are we (as a society, as role models, as members of the community) going to do about it? One of the things I will do is to write about it, expose the rawness of society that makes people cringe and want to hide away. It also addresses the very elements that I let myself be caught up in; online communities. I was interested in how well characters could be developed using twitter or Facebook status updates; this was important because so often we 'get to know' people on line. How well can we do this in real life, let alone how well can characters be developed in this way. It is restrictive to have characters developed in this way, so I added the internal monologue. Another idea would be to have the characters share their thoughts in a variety of online mediums, and highlight the subtle difference people put into their own 'character' when on line.

Until next time ... adieu.

Thursday, January 7, 2010


Son_of _a_PreacherMan         Fight @ Lunch. Oval. Shiz will pay. Hands only

Henrii@Son_of_a_PreacherMan     Fkn h8t that guy. Punch hiz fkn face in will ya

Son_of_a_PreacherMan@Henrii    no worries babe. U going to central tonite?

Henrii@Son_of_a_PreacherMan    Maybe. Dad's stupid GF wants me home – says i'm out 2 much. Stuff her *shapes hand like a pistol*

Dot_527                OMFG fight at lunch. Team Jared <3    

Brittles@Dot_527            Are you crazy? He won't even notice you there *Lame idea*

Brittles@IamAwesum            Jared ' psych- head' Williams planning a fight @ lunch. What an @rse!

IamAwesum@Azzaron            FIGHT. Marrawong High. 1.25

Azzaron                Marrawong High@ 1.25. Meet at bus stop near oval

Proud 2BFOB@Azzaron            You need back up man?!?!?

Azzaron@Proud2BFOB            Fuck yeah. Bring 'em all. Williams letting his mouth run again

IamAwesum                Check it out – Fight at Marra:

Son_of _a_PreacherMan        *delete*

Henrii                    *delete*

Brittles@IamAwesum            get it off!!!!!!!! School has called the cops

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the hell was I thinking? What should I say? I don't know what to say. I feel fucking sick. The blood. It was freaking everywhere. Jesus save me now. I need you man! Where did that fucking knife come from? Is he dead? Can't be. That wouldn't have happened. Man I need something, anything to get me outta this major fuck up. Focus Jared, focus. As far as they know it was a simple fight gone bad. Feel sick, what the hell happened? I wish my hands would ... shit, cops. Breathe man. In, out. Focus. How you going to get out of the one Preacher Boy? Oh God, the blood. So much. He deserved it, I gotta remember that one – he deserved it. C' mon breathe man, focus. Think man. Blood, so much blood. Breathe man. Think of something else. Henrii, yep she's cool, but her face when she saw what I did. How can I get past that? Total shock. It was obvious she hated me then. Wouldn't have pissed on me in a Bushfire. Yeah, you're a big hit with the ladies! Well I was ... Jesus help me. Why do I always have to open my mouth and be an arse? Look where it's got you idiot! Regret is an understatement here man. Fuck. No more of this. Jesus, if I get outta this mess ... just get me out of this mess. I really didn't mean for this to happen. The blood. Is that blood still on my hands? Stomach churning. I'm gonna shit my pants. C'mon man, breathe. They will know. They will know you didn't mean it.

"Mr. Williams ... MR.WILLIAMS. You need to answer the question. As you are aware Steven Nelson has been very seriously injured, and it is clear that you were involved in this fight. We need to know how the other school became involved. There are also rumours that someone filmed the fight on their phone. You do realise that fighting, and subsequent uploading to social networking sites is in violation of school policy. MR. WILLIAMS ..."


The above is my entry in Nathan Bransford's latest comp. It needed to be 500 words and have the definite voice of a teen protagonist. I am comment # 475, and it would be amazing to get some feedback on this. I experimented a little with my writing here. I have had a twitter/ facebook/ blog idea on the go, so decided to use that format for this comp. I like the idea that people get to know others on line, and wondered how well characters could be created in this genre. I think for my longer writing pieces I will incorporate forum discussions, but for the purpose of the competition at hand I think twitter discussion is fine. The intention is to create a teen person with the twitter, and then get inside the head of the protagonist via an internal monologue. Let me know what you think of the piece. Positive and negative feedback will be taken on board gratefully. I am also quite proud of the little, and look forward to seeing my newly invented word entering the tomes of the future.


Lastly – I promise, cross my fingers, yadda, yadda, yadda, that I will explain the latest batch of poems in my next post.

PS – The 'you tube' link in my story is made up – if it goes anywhere ... well, let's just hope that doesn't happen.


Friday, January 1, 2010

Once in a Blue Moon ...

A Blue Moon is certainly a rarity experienced for New Year's, even more so as technically, Australians didn't get it. Our Blue Moon occurs this month (being January) as the actual rising full moon that has been declared a Blue Moon was seen during the evening of December 31st in most Northern Hemisphere countries. Australia sees this 'same' full moon on January the 1st, so no Blue moon for us. Our Blue moon will be January, and then March of 2010; maybe not so rare after all, going by Gregorian calendar and not some of the more traditional methods of determining these astrological events.

However, I will remain optimistic for the new year. For the first time in many, many years I feel hopeful for the upcoming year and look forward to some change.

I have quite a few writing ideas I would like to get underway, and, of course, I will continue to blog; hopefully a little more regularly than I have been of late.

I promise that my next post will explain the last few poetic ramblings. My prose poem MMIX certainly needs a bit of insight given.

Thanks to all of my followers, and I look forward to blogging with you all in 2010.