AAYL inner-angst stalker sadboy

I have been thinking about the matter of regular updates. As I'm busy writing, the process of which takes up most of my focus, it can be problematic writing new content which doesn't involve the 'HS & HRS Sexxx Games' novel. While I could dip into the draft some more, there's only so much I can share here before I've shared almost everything; the everything that is close to sharing, certainly. 


The presiding over this matter in my mind has been brought into sharper focus after the last post that made use of an old AAYL entry.


As the AAYL is now no longer online, and only exists as the archives I've kept for myself, there's no way  for anyone else to read it. Before I was happy with that thought. But since the post, I've been reading over some of the later crap I wrote and... it's not as bad as I imagined. So, to resolve the issue of frequent posting, and to air-out the AAYL, I've decided to cherry pick through the content and post here, once a week, maybe even more frequently, some of the more palatable writing that was produced in the journal over the three year period I was running it. 


All of the writing is old, some of it is written with a hell-of-a-lotta ego, and maybe you'll find it interesting.   To kick it off, I'll start with a double whammy. 


A little context. From what I can recall, this was written under some duress; It was 2003, I was living in Melbourne, homesick, no-real friends in the city at that stage, stressed from the need of having to prove myself at a top University, at night walking amongst the half-built suburban homes of the area - all skeletal frames and yellow builder's sand - in an admixture of a geographical and emotional wasteland, and I produced this piece. 


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Saturday 21st of August

It's getting easier; this participating in the universal pantomime called life. A smile and an affirmative head nod is all it takes to fit. I used to delude myself into the belief that it was all so natural, when in reality I snuck up to her outside window once or twice and peeped in. For no good, natural, reason, I was planning and predicting odds, weighing up my chances and opportunities. I didn't know it though, some automatic reptilian impulse in my brain kicked in and blocked out logic and common sense. i thought i had kept this alien emotion in check all these years, maybe even cut it out somehow, but it was there, ripping and rollicking along for the ride, taking note and hiding behind clouds in the sky and bushes in the mind. 'i'm so clever and smart and clever, i'm so in control and clever and smart and controled.' in control, keep controlled, it you must not realised or remember back to this all beginning as an act, as an open declaration of deceit and manipulation with easy moves and hard move calculating the time the day the hour to strike with plans ranging from a to z each a small step along on the ascent to perdition or heaven depending on the corresponding days schedule of movement and organisation is inarguably to blame for this the worry that the lack leads to disorganisation which leads to a lack of god which leads to the ultimate incarnation of anxiety an endless pit spiraling through space timed holes leading along cold steel gravel paths twisting past bright white pre-colonial pillboxes filled with so many people they cant make a sound they all drown each other out like the positive and negative ions of a battery which add together to form the power and charge the ticking machine ticking ticking look down up back down foward up your knnes aches your shins sache the muscles intehw left leg achesc s can i do soemthing to gelp the ache? dont replyro that is that a ruse or a keadon what will the logic and order or the disorganisatned inversal contisnmumm click voer up foeard down up back downdowndowndodesexcending it turns it moves so easily so seamlessly without an unnerving corresponding action that precedes it by only a split second but just enough to give the impression that there is a method to the duplication, the simulacra of the first event, reoccurring and deconstructed from the bare constituent elements which everything originated from. It's all so god damn easy. Stay in control. Smile. You are a player in the game. Once involved you must master the rules and compete against others. To win you must be the best, regardless of how 'meant to be' and 'natural' it all is. "Is this for real, is this a dream?" She once asked. No, it's not unreal. But in your role you're meant to think as such, so good, very good there. I am becoming the reptile. The snake and its single tear. I'm masquerading as a cat, but don't be fooled. Getting fooled unnatural symptoms in one's health. Take my word for it, I was fooooled fooooled fooooled once, twice, no more. I bought a rulebook. I read it from cover to cover, from front to back and back again. I stood on the street corner, letting everyone pass me by but not without a smile and an affirmative head nod first forward up. Ah they sucked it in, we faced each other and circled slowly in the middle, not once breaking eye contact. I SAW THEM COMING. THEY SAW ME COMING. WE HIT HEAD ON. I gotta get out of this pill box. There's a bad mental energy here. Bad karma from when it was a mental hospital, when the spastics walked the earth in chains and shattered thoughts, followed each other in a line straight to the grave.