Wombat Football

Photo

Thu, 24 May 2012 22:55:44 +0100

I suppose if I’ve learned anything, it’s that the next part of your life is never going...

Thu, 24 May 2012 22:40:17 +0100

I suppose if I’ve learned anything, it’s that the next part of your life is never going to pan out exactly the way you planned it, no matter how much you want it to. Once you accept that, you can relax and start enjoying the part that’s happening now.

Also: maple and walnut ice cream.

Selected article titles from the news feed I am currently consuming

Tue, 10 Jan 2012 09:40:46 +0000

“Building covered in coats”
“Map of pig nicknames from 1884”
“Accessorising with cats”
“Overnight holidays at a nuclear plant”

"if you have to wait for it to roar out of you, then wait patiently. if it never does roar out of..."

Wed, 09 Nov 2011 08:58:00 +0000

“if you have to wait for it to roar out of you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.”

- Charles Bukowski, So You Want To Be A Writer

The air was dense. I listened to the rain blow in, predicted it hitting the glass. Cursed myself,...

Tue, 06 Sep 2011 00:17:03 +0100

The air was dense. I listened to the rain blow in, predicted it hitting the glass. Cursed myself, for letting the association stir me. Sometimes you want to move on, sometimes you realise you have to move on—and then there are some who you know you may never be able to forget.

I often dreamed of our wedding day; but last night, for the first time, I couldn’t see her face.

"Tie those horses / to the post outside / and let those glass doors / open wide / and in their..."

Tue, 26 Jul 2011 20:46:49 +0100

“Tie those horses / to the post outside / and let those glass doors / open wide / and in their surface / see two young, savage things / barely worth remembering”

- The Mountain Goats: Damn These Vampires

"Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don’t know when it will arrive seems to take away..."

Tue, 19 Jul 2011 00:22:57 +0100

“Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don’t know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It’s that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don’t know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.”

- Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

Catharsis

Fri, 06 May 2011 00:14:00 +0100

Imagine, for a moment, that you are a boy.

Imagine that you meet someone—a girl. Initially, she infuriates you. She is quick-witted and funny; frustratingly articulate, occasionally condescending. You do not yet realise that these are the things you will fall in love with; because you are just a boy.

Imagine now that some years have passed. The two of you have spent a lot of time together, become friends, shared interests.

Imagine that you wake one summer morning, suddenly aware of the fact you have been thinking about her almost constantly for the last few months. This terrifies you. Not only because you did not expect it, but also because she is unavailable, in the most insurmountable of ways.

Imagine then that you try to shake it off, throwing yourself into music, creativity and no small amount of drinking. Driving yourself to write, to make things, to experiment. It works, for a while. You do not yet realise that these are the things she will fall in love with; because you are just a boy.

Imagine that you watch her singing. You have seen her sing many times, but on this night it dawns on you that every piece of music, every lyric, every poem you have written recently is either for her, or about her. You know now that you are in real trouble. But there is nothing to be done, so you push it all the way down inside yourself, try to drown it out.

Imagine now that you are standing in your hallway, with the sound of your friends’ laughter ringing through the flat. Your phone buzzes: it is a message that makes your head spin.

Later that night, you kiss her—or she kisses you—and something begins.

This, you cannot imagine, unless you have known it. Dazzling, wonderful highs and devastating lows. A passion and closeness like nothing you have ever experienced before, a whirlwind of midnight phone calls and sun-dappled backs; rain on windows; the sound of waves; possibilities.

Imagine that several months have flown by. Now, suddenly, you are driving her to a station to catch a train; to catch a plane which will take her to another continent, to pursue the dreams you have encouraged her to follow. But you cannot—cannot—watch the train leave; because you are just a boy.

Imagine now that for the first time in many years you have a plan, a purpose: to follow her there and start a new life, together. You talk often, via video calls and email, and soon you will fly to visit her in her new home.

Imagine that as you leave that incredible city, see its lights extinguished by cloud like a million dying stars, you think of her and there is only one possible future. You resolve to return as soon as you can, with a ring; because you are just a boy, and you are in love.

Imagine then, that the calls and the emails gradually become less frequent. Imagine the night you realise that everything is falling apart. Imagine hanging up that call, the call you knew was coming, but simply didn’t have the strength to prepare for.

Imagine that you spend every night thinking, though it is the last thing you want to do. Imagine praying, to gods you do not believe in, for a moment of peace which never comes. Imagine that you do not sleep, at all, for a week.

Imagine that nearly two years later, you are still in touch; that you could not contemplate losing her completely, though at first it hurt like hell. Imagine she tells you she is coming home, and that although you truly have no illusions that your relationship will be rekindled: you are happy.

Imagine now that when you meet again on the day after her return, a new boyfriend—who you knew nothing about—is there with her. Imagine that somehow, mercifully, this moment does not hurt half as much as you thought it would. Imagine that even now, you know that you love her; that you genuinely want her to find happiness, even if you’re not part of it.

Because you are not a boy, anymore.

The National—Exile Vilify

Thu, 05 May 2011 00:24:53 +0100

Oh, you meant so much
Have you given up
Does it feel like a trial
Does it trouble your mind
The way you trouble mine
Does it feel like a trial
Now you’re thinking too fast
You’re like marbles on glass

"Anything that is in the world when you’re born is normal and ordinary and is just a natural part of..."

Thu, 07 Apr 2011 13:39:23 +0100

“Anything that is in the world when you’re born is normal and ordinary and is just a natural part of the way the world works. Anything that’s invented between when you’re fifteen and thirty-five is new and exciting and revolutionary and you can probably get a career in it. Anything invented after you’re thirty-five is against the natural order of things.”

- Douglas Adams, “The Salmon of Doubt”

"In the end, everything will be ok. If it’s not ok, it’s not yet the end."

Thu, 24 Feb 2011 09:33:42 +0000

“In the end, everything will be ok. If it’s not ok, it’s not yet the end.”

- Fernando Sabino

"For the first time in years the tears were streaming down his face. But they were for himself now...."

Mon, 21 Feb 2011 07:59:31 +0000

“

For the first time in years the tears were streaming down his face. But they were for himself now. He did not care about mouth and eyes and moving hands. He wanted to care, and he could not care. For he had gone away and he could never go back any more. The gates were closed, the sun was gone down, and there was no beauty but the gray beauty of steel that withstands all time. Even the grief he could have borne was left behind in the country of illusion, of youth, of the richness of life, where his winter dreams had flourished.

“Long ago,” he said, “long ago, there was something in me, but now that thing is gone. Now that thing is gone, that thing is gone. I cannot cry. I cannot care. That thing will come back no more.”

”

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, Winter Dreams

"The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent;..."

Thu, 03 Feb 2011 19:41:00 +0000

“The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent; but if we can come to terms with this indifference and accept the challenges of life within the boundaries of death—however mutable man may be able to make them—our existence as a species can have genuine meaning and fulfilment. However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.”

- Stanley Kubrick

"Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die."

Fri, 28 Jan 2011 04:56:51 +0000

“Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”

- Carrie Fisher

Run-on sentence of true embarrassing truth...

Mon, 24 Jan 2011 19:35:00 +0000

thebosha:

When in Pennsylvania I sometimes see imprints in the middle of large expanses of otherwise virgin snow that could not possibly have gotten there and away without disturbing the surrounding snow and I think about space alien invasion or woodland ghosts or the preternaturally long leaps of werewolves then I remember groundhogs and that I lived in New York City for too long.

2010

Tue, 28 Dec 2010 16:55:00 +0000

This year has been a difficult one, perhaps my most difficult yet.

At the beginning of it, I spent my nights praying—to whoever might be listening—that someone would fall back in love with me. When that didn’t work, I prayed that I would fall out of love with her. All of my prayers went unanswered; I never really believed it would be otherwise.

I spent a lot of nights alone, drinking heavily to try and find some peace, to escape from all the images and fond memories racing around inside my head; just to be able to sleep. It didn’t work. I tried to pour it all out by writing songs, which is usually cathartic for me, but my state of mind just wasn’t conducive to any kind of creative output. My work suffered. I became depressed and increasingly hopeless. Each time I thought I might finally be moving on, my mind would suddenly throw up a scene from our time together and I would miss her like hell again.

More than a year on, I can’t say I’m no longer in love with her, but I think—I hope—it’s beginning to change into a different love; the kind you have for a close friend, which she still is, despite everything. I wish her all the happiness in the world, and always have.

For the most part I hid all of this from the people close to me, because I didn’t see that there was anything that they could do to help, other than to keep me company and make me laugh once in a while. And they did that anyway, despite having their own problems, without me even having to ask. They didn’t need the added burden of knowing that their friend was so deeply, deeply unhappy.

I don’t expect those people to ever read this, but if they do, they should know that they are the ones who kept me going. They are the ones who brought me back from the darkest of places.

This year, I am going to make them proud of me.

"Age is the dawning anticipation of consequences."

Thu, 23 Dec 2010 20:46:05 +0000

“Age is the dawning anticipation of consequences.”

- David Hepworth

"My dreams are going through their death flurries. I thought they were all safely buried, but..."

Mon, 20 Dec 2010 20:02:45 +0000

“My dreams are going through their death flurries. I thought they were all safely buried, but sometimes they stir in their grave, making my heartstrings twinge. I mean no particular dream, you understand, but the whole radiant flock of them together—with their rainbow wings, iridescent, bright, soaring, glorious, sublime. They are dying before the steel javelins and arrows of a world of Time and Money.”

- Barbara Newhall Follett

"Sometimes the little times you don’t think are anything while they’re happening turn out to be what..."

Fri, 05 Nov 2010 09:26:44 +0000

“Sometimes the little times you don’t think are anything while they’re happening turn out to be what marks a whole period of your life.”

- Andy Warhol

"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards."

Sun, 17 Oct 2010 18:16:47 +0100

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”

- Soren Kierkegaard