Archive for the ‘the globe’ Category

~Written in a hazy, sleep-deprived state, somewhere over the Atlantic, or Pacific, or Arizona perhaps? I drifted in and out of consciousness and existence for two days of merciless altitudes and terminals~

At this point I’ve completely lost all concept of time. Days, minutes, hours, seconds – altitudes, speeds, temperatures – local times, arrival times. Destinations. Departures. Desolation. The cold realisation of solitude, sandwiched between two people and a hastily stashed tray-table.  Where am I? When am I?

The concept of home seems so foreign to me right now. My home is in Adelaide, but I haven’t been there in so long. My home is in Ranger; a town I despise, full of people I adore. My home was just in Paris, with my brother and sister – a true sign of love. My home is in my heart, which lies in El Paso – the magnitude of what she holds unbeknownst to her; its protector. My soul lies somewhere between these places, thrown around as haphazardly as myself and my luggage as we drift in and out of turbulence, making less and less sense…



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In Transit (again)


27/12 – 29/12


The sun blocks my view

Glaring, I strive to achieve

But no emergence

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City of Lost Children

City of lost children

Forgotten street’s relevance

They’re all out to play

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In another man’s shadow

Stone-brick, three floors; four

Architecture from deceased

Icons loom behind

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Merry Christmas

I’m too poor to afford to buy you anything for Christmas, but I wanted to get you something anyway to reciprocate the EPIC present you gave me before I left. I’ve become quite fond of a French-Canadian artist called Cœur de Pirate whilst here, and thought you would probably enjoy her too.

Download the tracks below, throw em on ya iPod, and enjoy ya trip!!! Yeeeew

Merry Christmas frienndddddd!


Cœur de Pirate – ‘Blonde’

01 Lève les voiles

02 Adieu

03 Danse et danse

04 Golden Baby

05 Ava

06 Loin d’ici

07 Les amours dévouées

08 Place de la République

09 Cap Diamant

10 Verseau

11 Saint-Laurent

12 La petite mort

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Tron Cats

Fuck the fat lady it’s over when all the kids sing……

We pimped out our college crib radicals. The fridge is shit but it works and we have new art all over our mutha fu*kin walls. Check it wolf.


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International travel is a complicated experience. You sit for so long, pondering where you are heading. Where you’ve been. You remember all of the people who have gotten you to where you are now and you wonder who will take you further.

It’s a surreal experience. I almost feel as though I’m just going on a holiday. That soon I’ll be back home with all my family and friends. But that’s not my reality.

9 months.

The more I think about it the more I realise just how long that is. I guess only God knows what the future will bring me….

~ 08/13/11 SYD – DAL ~

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