Tuesday, June 29, 2010



(really not my thing)


I tried really hard this time

I guess some things were never meant to be

You were the finest thing I never had my dear

I guess Romance is really not my thing


This is a love song

It is a last resort

Making you love me

Is proving much harder than I thought


I tried to impress you by matching you beer for beer

But I passed out before 11 pm and when I woke you’d disappeared

(There goes my first attempt)


Next time I spent all my money to try to get you paralytic

But you got so drunk and confused that you went home with the wrong girl

And I wasn’t sympathetic

That cost me so much fucking money

How pathetic.

I didn’t find it funny



This is a love song

It is a last resort

Making you love me

Is proving much harder than I thought


I gave it my all

When I should have played it cool

Then I gave it all up

When you were just about to fall (for me)

I gave you my heart

When you had both of your hands full

This game of romance

Is really not my thing at all


You want a beer? Ill buy you a beer

You want to talk?

Nah babe it’s too loud in here

Oh you want ME to talk.

I already told you you were pretty

Oh you want me to make you laugh?

Fuck that I’m too drunk to be witty

But I’ll give you this shit that I found in my bag

I know it’s not wit

But it’s all that I have

Have this!

It used to be a flower now it’s just a stalk

It’s something I prepared earlier in case I got too drunk to talk

So I could still be charming and sweet

Debonair and romantic

Shut up I know it’s just a stalk!

Don’t be so fucking pedantic!

Oh what? Now you’re leaving? After all of my trying?

My bluffing and my giving? You drinking and me buying?

UGH fine.

I didn’t like you anyway.


Here have this fucking lovesong

You hard-to-get little prince

I shoulda tried this earlier

So I’d’ve spent less on buying you drinks

See this? This is me being romantic.

Ah shit. I guess Romance is really not my thing.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

city you can go if you like, but the circus stays

Last year when the Fringe ended and the Garden disappeared like a tardis and faded away to nothing in an instant, I cried.

The circus had left town :(

I wandered around the empty park, chewing on the peppercorns from the tree and wondering if it had all been a dream.

I stood at the end of Rundle Street and was forced to remember that I live in a city, not a wonderland.


This year, when the Fringe leaves, the circus DOESN'T leave town. O no no no! 
THIS year, the circus stays RIGHT HERE! 
THIS year...  the circus keeps spinning around my head, tumbling down into my life as I keep rolling along and throwing things at it.

THIS year, when the Garden disappears like a tardis, me and my freaky friends will sit in the electric air and have a tea party, we might even dream up some cupcakes.

When I stand at the end of Rundle Street, I will look around me and think to myself... this city is a playground, and it is SO full of things to do.
Now hop to it Anya!

Saturday, January 16, 2010

your unsung love song

If you wrote a love song I get this sort of irritatingly resounding idea that it would not revolve around me.

This is one of the reasons I am glad you show no aptitude for music.

i hate the times

I hate the times when I look around at everything and go… everything- you are a pile of shit.


When dinner looks up at me from a big beautiful white plate and goes- I am foul organic matter that you are going to stuff into your mouth and chew.


When getting home after a long day at work means doing more work without being paid, for someone who doesn’t even notice, then I set about being a disgusting slob with a big belly full of food.


When I look at a bunch of scarves spewing out of my chest of draws and am offended by the sight of such untidiness but completely unmotivated to put them away.


When I realise I didn’t say I love you to anyone. Not in weeks. Not in months.


When I look at my alarm clock with utter hatred because it signifies the start of another day of pretending.


When I listen to the radio and hate everything I hear.


When I write 3 emails and get none back.


When I read up on some public figure that I respect and find out they are shit.


I hate the times when there is nothing in my life I would change yet quite inexplicably: I feel like shit.

When you venture curiously through those streets

Those unwinding streets

That lead you around corners to come across new places in your mind

Trains of thought uninterrupted and pure inspiration uncorrupted

Momentary impulses ripe for the following and paths of strangers begging for the borrowing. Blossoming scenes unfolding before you, and shadowy secrets beckoning you closer- what is it there amongst all of that magic that makes you think to pause and think of me? 


Oh fine, no that's fine, totally fine.

cool with me.

have fun.