Leaving Sydney.

I think people closest to me know that I have a strong inclination to leave this city.
I have nothing against Sydney itself as a whole. It’s alright. It’s clean, has things, good people, a semi-decent art scene and a coffee culture that is growing, slowly but at the end of the day, quite literally it has no night life.
I’m not a booze hound or a partying fiend but I like things to be opened 24/7 and not just petrol stations or convenience stores. Clubs, pubs, restaurants, gaming lounges, cinemas just opened.
Where people still hustle and bustle around during what is normally described as ‘the dead of the night’. The night should never die. It should pass (out) into the day. Sometimes seamlessly but during the best times senselessly.

Cities that never sleep.
Literally.
That is the kind of place I like to be in.

All cities during the day are the same. There is movement, crowds, mobs, police, teenagers, grocery shopping, going to work, going to lunch.

But not all cities are the same during the night.

And not all cities are wide awake after midnight and long till the pre-dawn.

Korea has spoiled me with its cities.
My tenure there was far too short.
The experience has made me want to travel, explore and stay awake forever.
Sydney, no matter how lovely, how calm with all it’s gravel littered suburbs, is dull in comparison.

I need stimulants.
Constantly.
For some reason my generation affiliates that word with sex.
But I mean in the mental capacity of the word.
I need to always be doing something.
Elsewise I get bored.
And when I am bored for too long.
I go insane.
Manic.
In all hours.
..

I can stay awake for eight days straight.
I can stay awake for five days straight and still function.
I can stay awake and still function with full cognitive awareness for three.
Only.
And if only.
I am doing something.
I stayed awake for fours days on average, losing myself in exploration of cities. Not having to be afraid at 3am in the morning because there were too many people around.

..

I generally live off four to five hours of sleep… these days much more because I’ve not had to go to work or uni..

But on a normal day/night I sometimes sneak out my house and take photographs at night.
And even though it’s usually the same place. I never get sick of seeing the little things that are different. Stimulant.
Maybe one day, if I like and trust you enough I’ll show you my collection.
..

I need to get out of this city.
Travel.
Eat everything.
Drink everything.
And take photos of everyone.
Stay awake.
Living.
Breathing.
Never bored.
Not like I am now.

Editing. Is. A. Bitch.

I have re-written, edited and beta’d the fuck out of 5000 words and that isn’t near a third of it. I am dying. DYING I SAYS.

Read More

Real life expectations of the perfect male, shot down…

By literature.

Damn you writers of written goodness. DAMN YOU ALL.

I’ve been on the maddest reading bender known to mankind.

I’ve just finished Jane Eyre and Pride & Prejudice.

Blah. Just Blah.


Rochester: I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you- especially when you are near to me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land, come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I’ve nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you - you’d forget me.

Rochester: My bride is here… because my equal is here, and my likeness.

Darcy: In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you

Darcy: You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased