Scibble Extracts

Words

A collection of extracts from my journal over these past absent weeks.

12 May:
Second thoughts are curses
Quirky perks disperse with stress,
What’s worse?
An empty lesson or an empty purse?

14 May:
They talk like I’m not here,
not near,
not clear;
a testimony to the idea
that I might be just a little bit weird
and when I talk it’s to an empty room,
a looming truth so what’s the use
of singing to their tune?

16 May:
The landscape’s curling line
echoes my learning state of mind.
The heartbeat of the land,
a sublime stroke by a genius hand.

17 May:
Talking shit again.
It’s well inended, but it’s not making me any friends
so let’s put it to an end and write
something worth something

I got nothing.

18 May:
Feels like I’m fracking in my own mind,
tunneling for diamonds like its a fucking mine

20 May:
I look around and see nobody
because I am the time waster
I am the great procrastinator
I am the perpetrator of my perceived failure.

28 May:
Erase the mistakes
with better choices and a new set of brakes.
Flaky rat race,
and you’ve got shit on your face.
I can’t replace a single piece of time that I’ve wasted.
A lot of us chase our tails
holding back to avoid a fail,
wailing wind gone out of our sails

1 June:
Goodness gracious
Look at all those blank spaces!
Left behind by righteous faces
who’s good graces are crumbs;
who’s crooked thumbs
numbly fire tasers at the cultured ones.

2 June:
A giant cheeky moon plays peekaboo
Shining bright along the hilline
Dark green contrast on a moody blue

6 June:
I’m still alive with a chance to resist loudly,
resist proudly.

7 June:
Satire is dead
and those machines have still got to be fed.
Living in dread of the block heads.
We are the children
of an inbred fictional debt,
cold steel of invisible chains,
the culture of blame in the age of No Regrets

11 June:
Mushroom fumes in stuffy rooms,
purple stain from acid rain.
Doomsday news courtesy of plumes,
pass off blame and ways to complain.

12 June:
A divine horizon stole my breath
but it’s a guess how long the land has left.

14 June:
Sucking life like a ring wraith
closing in on the spaces
of more vulnerable faces
trying to take more time but time doesn’t give,
it takes.

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New Threads

Arts, Photos

On a trip to Melbourne last week, Mum found this beautiful handmade journal and brought it home for me.

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Wrapped neatly in a brown paper bag, I grinned as I held the fresh journal in my hands. I was totally surprised, even though beautiful notebooks and journals are a traditional gift from her to me.

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I love the vibrant and earthy colours, the texture of the cotton pages, the curvy weight.

More than that, I love that my mum believes in my passion for writing about life. I love that she sees a beautiful handmade journal, and thinks of me.

For the sake of it: preliminary drawings

Arts, Projects

Making art for the sake of it might mean different things to some than others. To me, it means working on all the projects I never had the time/energy/courage for.

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It means ignoring the self-doubt that says “this is crap, no one will like what you’re doing”. It isn’t about what other people like.

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It means accepting that the real art is in the creative process, and the final outcome, the body of work, is only the last representation of that artistic expression.

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It means submission to our own creative powers, whatever they are, for the sake of it.

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Post # 2, loosely termed “Introduction Post”

Uncategorized

An introduction post is an intimidating thing. How do you say who you are, what you do and why you’re here in one post, (not too short or too long) without sounding like a poser or a self-inflated jerk?

Be damned if I know. Everything I write outside my journal these days sounds forced and self-conscious. That’s a big reason towards why I decided (for the umpteen-billionth time it seems) to start this blog. To find focus, inspiration, reasons to use the creativity and imagination that I KNOW is there, but is sometimes hard to find.

Writing to an audience the size of the world, and still not expecting to be heard by one soul after several posts, is not too different to being ignored and subsequently humiliated by a sheet of plasterboard.

So I’ll write as though it’s just for me, for now, (because it is just me for now), until I find my voice. Things will change frequently here as I greedily hone my way through the free themes I want to try, publish stupid posts, delete said posts and rewrite them frantically…

In the meantime, let’s just be happy that I’ve posted, in earnest.

R.