A song for the reader
Some things you'll do for money, some things you'll do for fun, but the things you do for love are gonna come back to you one by one. Love is gonna lead you on, into a wide and soundless place, now we see things as in a mirror dimly, then we shall see each other face to face.

Snakes in the grass beneath our feet, rain in the clouds above, some moments last forever but some flare out with love, love, love.

So many things fit together. How do I feel about the world? What do I believe in? What is my belief? What are my views? My views are that some moments last forever, some flare out with love, love, love. I believe in that which is still the fountain light of all our days. I value the spirit which rolls through all things. After all is said and done, and all the bemoaning of our state has finished, I value this: that not only is this what I believe, but that this exists and is not my words but is what is in my head and in my heart:

O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest; Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast: - Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised: But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, Are yet a master-light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor, Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song! And let the young Lambs bound As to the tabor's sound! We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play Ye that through your hearts today Feel the gladness of the May! What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind. And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.


I have faith. I have found my faith, I think. I know. It is not solidified, but it is back, it is here. I have not been a perfect christian, god knows I am still not; I may have a 'past', I may be totally unorthodox, I may be totally orthodox, I may be offensive and not innocent but I am here, and I am come home to my home. That doesn't even do it justice: I cannot put into words what it is. I can translate: God is my father. Even though I am not perfect, not in any way am I perfect, I am perfect. I feel I am incomplete and unworthy and not worth it, I feel I am a failure and corrupted and unworthy of God's love, but I am here. I am given myself to the spirit. I do not want to say 'I have given', that does not seem right. I am given. I am giving. I am trying, Lord knows I am trying, Lord. I want to live a blessed life. I want good. I want good things. I so badly want good things. To live a right life--these are the things that I strive for. Right knowledge, right living, right action, right godliness...Wisdom Understanding Counsel Fortitude Knowledge Piety Fear of the Lord--I do not take that last one as fear, not in the afraid sense...God, the world, the spirit, the one, us, the oneness of everything, everything does not accept fear, does not accept cowering abasement. This may be harsh, but it will not do to have that. I believe in awe. In the real, magnificent sense. The true power of God is inspiring of awe. The hints of the spirit that I see leave me full of awe. Because, this is how I see it--everything is everything. Everyone is right. Everything is exactly how it said it would be.

What a thought--everyone was right! Everyone was wrong! Everything dies, and everything ends--an end of sorts, sure, but why do I say everything? We are all the same! And even 'we' is to exclusive. EVERYTHING. ALL. The unnamed, nameless, _____!!!!!!!!!! It is all there! If you are alive, one day you will die. You are part of me, I am part of him, they are part of us and also our enemies, and the friends of our enemies are also part of us. Not just in the sense that we all affect each other. We all ARE each other. For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, there is so much meaning there, and it is all there! All of it! Everything is exactly what we always thought it was! Finding the meaning, finding the future: Where is the future? What is the future? What lies ahead? Stop looking up, stop looking behind you--there it is! The future is right in front of you! You'll know everything in the end (you already do know everything), but it'll be here in the future! Oh! Wait! The future is right now and right now and right now! The future is right in front of us, and the past is right where we left it.

And never forget, grace is what puts you on a pedestal, and what knocks you off it. The man who drank of the sap of the tree of eternal life: he violently sprouted some shrubbery--eternal life! Life is not without a sense of humour, and it is never malicious in the evil sense. It has a wicked sense of humour. And don't worry, don't take it personally--it's just you, after all.

"...and suddenly finds itself out on the street, in a body, embodied in light, walking, awake, almost satisfied."

I will get to the bottom of this. I'm building myself a net, a ladder of nets, maybe a net of ladders. Little silver links, binding things together. Things have been scattered, you see, ever since the beginning. Things get split in two. Parts get tossed into corners and over oceans. Centres cannot hold. Things always fall apart. Bemoaning fate has gotten us precisely nothing, so I am beginning anew, emancipating myself from the course of things, freedom from precedent. I am finding the pieces. I will do it myself. Each piece bound with little silver bonds, starting small: loose connections, little rope chains, rings of reason. They're connecting faster now. Soon I'll have a whole blanket. Soon I'll have a net.

But reason cannot be caught in nets! Hope is an ellusive thing, fate cannot stay! Such statements are of no consiquence here. Nets only hold what can be held; things can only be held if they are thought of as things. These concepts and forces are part of the little bits of life; by fragmenting items they infused themselves upon the items; once destroyed by fate you become fate; and so the force becomes it's own undoing. But undoing is the wrong term here--the undoing becomes the doing, the destruction becomes creation. A hybrid of possibility. For when the forces that be fragment the items we hold in our lives, when forces intervene and seem to scatter your life or cleve it in two, therein is the key.

It's a little key, made of gold, scarecly visible in all the force and glammour of the driving powers behind us and in front of us, but it is there. And it is the key that undoes and redoes. It is the key that creates out of despair. Once poured out onto space, our split affinities and distressed objects mix with the crashing waves of time and fate, the broken pieces absorb the wind, and what emerges is a wholly new concept. And in the emergence of this new concept, the original thing is forever superseeded by the new monarch: the shining, hard light of bright resilliance and fierce resistance to obeying the normal course of action.

Our minds can be our undoings, but they can also be the undoings of those things that would ordinarily undo us. And so I am building myself a little blanket of nets, a little map of experiences and fragments. I am building a map of the future.

The leaves were raining, and the rain was leaving puddles around my feet and misty imprints in the air, and I have never felt more alive. All morning the sun burned away at the fog, leaving halos around tall buildings and church spires--and I walked among the trees and the people and the bus stops, and I felt alive. And then it's night and the stars are up and out and I am four again. I am four and I am in Australia, and I am realizing the sky is just what it is and you will always be right there, right where I know to look.

And at least we're not drowning yet. At least the skies have not swarmed down, at least the rowdy sea has not decided that enough is enough, and seized the land once more. For a time it is only just enough and more than well enough, for a time it is ok for waves to meet rocks and for rocks to meet cliffs, and for cliffs to meet grassy heaths and heaths to meet roads and roads to lace up the surface of the ground, winding their way back to us, to tell us of the sea.

Ok then. Let's go to work.

Today went. I felt just not great from the start, and it only went down hill from there. Class was alright. I feel distressed when people mention foreigners, people from other countries, immigrants. I am foregin. I am an immigrant. I suppose I'm a naturalized citizen, but what the fuck should that mean to me? I wasn't born here. I never invested in this country. I know I used to think of it in a wanting way, but I didn't know what it was like. No, that is a stupid thing to say. I've always had problems with wanting something else only when I'm disgruntled with what I have. The grass is always greener, and all that nonsense. I don't know why. I wish I didn't, but I really wouldn't change that or myself. But that's beside the point. When people talk of those who came to this country, when they generalize and talk about people who grew up somewhere else, and when that thing that they are saying is bad towards the foreigner, I want to jump up and point out that, hey, I'm that! That's me! I'm not from here! I'm not from here! I want to go home! I don't care about this country; that isn't true, but in my heart I am not invested here. I am not given, heart and soul, to this country. I was not born here. Whatever tie I have to this country is through my mother, who was born here, but even that tie does not run deep. Those roots are superficial. My maternal grandma was not born here. My maternal grandpa was not born here. My mom lived here for a while, she was from here, and then went somewhere else and became enamoured with that place. She is a miraculous, rare person who is able to totally open their lives to another place and adopt it. She didn't think she'd be staying there. No one did. It was temporary. Years later, it was still temporary, and then I happened, and it wasn't temporary. I grew up there. I was born there. I am there. I am from it, part of it, with it, for it, always there. By a technicality, and by my mother being a wordly person, a rare person open to more experiences and everything and life, I became of two worlds.

And this is always my life. Two countries: one I am, and one I am at right now, and I have to be truthful--after all this time I cannot see myself choosing one over the other in an exclusive fashion. I woudln't want to be 100% one (although I could, if I chose the one that is me), but rather 70% one and 30% the other, or something. Damn it all, I am always divided. Two countries, two schools, two towns, two enviroments. Forever contradicting myself. My schooling, growing up: I started with the common kids, with my peers, with the kids from my neighborhood--I moved on to the upperclass, the fancy, the posh school, where they talked fancy. I got teased by the kids in my neighborhood. They teased me about how I said words. I talked like the queen. A dramatic way to think would be that I didn't belong anywhere, but I don't buy into that. I belong everywhere. And later in life, again, two schools. Living in one town, attending the elitist scholarly school in another. Not living in one town, but schooling there; living in another but not being part of it. Kids would ask me where I had moved to, I would say nowhere, I just changed schools. Do I think I'm better than everyone else? No. Do you think I'm better than you? Then I am, becaue you are putting yourself down, and I am not.

Two parents, as well. It continues! Contradiction! None of the legality of divorce, but all (and more) of the trouble. Two parents, never really to go back to how it used to be (and would anyone really want that, anyway?), but forever to remain seperate. So now I'm again divided between two things. Two places, and I am spreading myself thin. I have to learn to just be at home wherever my body is. That way I'm always belonging. For some reason, I am always the different occasion. Asked if my parents visit me, I just count my mom. Because, my dad lives here. I can't count that as visits, because he lives here. And then, I think, even if he does visit me often, that is different from other parents visiting. It is different because they have been with thier child for all their lives. They have seen them often. Most have always lived together, and most, if they didn't live together, have at least seen eachother often. I don't know. I suppose this isn't that different. A friend of mine doesn't see her dad often, and didn't grow up with him, I don't think. She doesn't count him in her thinking. This is different, I feel. I love my parents. I love them so strongly. It was made all the more difficult, having a parent leave and go to another country. And then after totally being dislocated, having it happen again. It was just hard, is all.

I am contradictions. I am really smart. I have to just state this. I don't understand how people communicate; how to get the point accross that I am, in fact, pretty damn smart, but not put people off. How do I come accross as not conceited? I always downplay it, and end up being percieved as dumb and ditzy. I don't like denying statements about myself. How did I do on that test? I did really well. You did so well on that thing! Why, yes, I did! I know! You're good at that. I know! You're pretty. I know! I am! We should just accept what we are. A positive attitude is everything. Telling youself what you want to hear can pay off, and in a good way. Tell yourself you are good. You are smart, you are impressive, you are confident, you are so good looking. And just like that, it is true. Good work! Thank you, I know.

I want everything. I am quiet, but loud. I am smart, but so dumb sometimes. I am damn fine, but can have bad moments. I am happy, but have bad days. I love punk, I love classical, I love dirty gritty real loud smoky music life, and I love smart classy clean things. Sometimes. I love being street, I love being upscale, I love being alive, really.

Dylan Thomas said it best. (Did I mention I love words?) This whole thing has been a rambling attempt at putting me back in my place today. I felt slightly out of whack. I feel better now. Back to work.