They say write every day, get the crap out of your head. I'm not sure what's in there right now but I'll do it anyway, hope that I get to that wonderful transcendental state where my words aren't preconceived garbage. I've been trying to write with less input from the brain, natural like, without the self judgement. It ain't easy. Words have something to say. And once you've said them, they're out there, and free to weave whatever wicked magic they will. So you'd suppose it would be wise to think about what you say. But who wants to do that.

Listening to Lou Reed and David Bowie this morning when I woke up. Spent four hours in bed in that space between waking and dreaming, living out some fantasy about having a doppelganger and fighting on the phone over who is more awesome (in a lover's 'no I love you more' kinda way). I remember my dream from the night before. Well actually, I don't, but I remember being very sure of the lesson while within it. It was trust your instincts; follow your gut, your intuition. The dream made that very clear. It seems more and more that my subconscious lays out carefully planned stories for me from which to glean a moral. My subconscious never seemed so conscious before.

It was my birthday the other day, and on Friday I had a yum cha dinner with friends at King of Kings in the valley. I was all hooped up and detached, shying away from the anxiety involved in being responsible for an event. I was wearing my black shirt, work pants and a bowler hat, and spent most of my time drinking beer to kill my shyness. It eventually worked, but I was never quite comfortable. A couple of major faces were missing, but all in all I believe it went very well. Everyone got along and drank and ate and laughed and Rennae and Bronwen even organised a tower of birthday donuts for me with a sparkler stabbing through the middle. Everyone sang happy birthday and I sat there trying to blow out the 'candle,' uncomfortable with all the attention. Eventually I drank too much and went home with Rob and Ruby.

I wonder if this style is more interesting. Rock stars tend not to smile.

Sometimes I get a warm feeling in my chest when I think of something. Back in church we were taught to believe that it's the holy spirit, manifesting the truth, but now I'm not so sure, although more often than not I will follow through with whatever it was. Perhaps it's indigestion - heartburn mistaken for divine wisdom. Haha.

Subject - Object relationships. In all human relations there is a subject object relationship. One person becomes objectified and conscious of being perceived. It's not always black and white but it seems preferable to be on the subject end. Reading The Rules of Attraction by Bret Easton Ellis it was interesting to see how much the characters objectified the world and how little they analysed themselves, at least in comparison to me. If one was to train themselves into subjectivity it would involve sustained focus on the external. Although that's very Darth Vader. Fuck it, I'm already doing it all wrong. Self improve, accept, it's all the same. In the end the worms won't care :]