Cameron Frye, you're my hero

Hypochondria, neurotic tendancy,
anxiety, insanity,
nervousness, fear,
sorrow, depression,
introversion, panic,
courage, strength, cunning;
so sad to see you sad so sorry my Cam.

The darkness

The blackness swells and pulls me under
I feel I’m trapped beneath its tide
But I keep marching forward in snowy forests

Searching for a place to wait and hide
To fight the things that haunt me

They catch me in my sleep

And when I let my iron guard down

They tear me apart piece by piece

Broken like a wilted flower

My cry rings out in the night

Until the moon is full, fat midnight hour

And no hope is left in sight.

Mr. Charlie

I'm not entirely sure what came over to me, but I had the urge to do something today and I did it. I wrote a letter to Mr. Charles Manson - that's right, the same Charles Manson we're all thinking of right now. Swastika tattoos and long, wild hair. I know this is extremely contraversial and I will recieve a lot of "Oh my"s and "Satan! Satan!"s but I don't really mind.
I felt like doing something interesting and I've done it.
Don't try to burn me with "What if he hunts you down!"
Whatever state of mind you're in to think that a nearly 80-year-old Charles beeping Manson is going to get out of prison, fly to Australia and come get me, I think you should probably take a closer look at your own level of sanity.
In all honesty, considering the amount of mail he recieves, I will never hear back from him.

Night night.
P.S. I haven't actually sent the letter yet, I need to reopen my P.O. box first.

The toll rises

It has been less than 24 hours since I last posted my blog about the tragedy that is know known as the Black Saturday bush fires that still continue to burn through Victoria.
Since last night, the death toll has risen to 130, and hundreds are still missing.

At school I heard even more stories of teachers who could not come to work; they were still looking for their children, their husbands and wives. Children could not make it to their classes today - their homes and everything else were gone.

The 2009 Black Saturday bushfires are now officially the worst natural disaster Australia has ever faced. It's like 6 degrees of separation - everybody knows somebody who lost their home, their family, or their life.

Once again my thoughts are with everyone who's been hurt by these fires...
It's an awful tragedy that none of us will ever forget.

City of smoke

To look out the back window of my Melbourne home today is to look out onto a city that is losing a battle against one of the worst bushfires it has ever seen.

The sky is grey despite being clear and blue only a week ago, the air smells of ash and smoke that billows across the entire state in a depressing blanket of hopelessness.
I know that while I watch the smoke, somewhere it is rising from the fires that are stealing hundreds of homes, to the point where entire suburbs no longer exist, murdering the people and animals that lay trapped by its many fronts.

At the moment the death toll is at 84, the loss of homes sitting briefly on 750, but the numbers rise so frequently it's impossible to say what it will be by the time you read this.
Of what I know from family and friends, one woman we know is missing and her home is destroyed, a girl has lost her great uncle and cousins, a boy has lost both of his parents and his home, and four more friends have lost their homes and pets. Others still don't know where their families are.


I'm so sorry to everybody who's been affected in even the smallest way by this. It's something we all know is coming every summer, but we couldn't know it would be this bad.

I wish the best for everybody.

Main offender

Well, school's back now and I'm owning again.
I stalk the yard, shooting scowls and howls at you
Skinny little prats with the bottom lockers.
God, you're not good enough to have dust kicked on your shiny T-bars.
Don't you know how much I'd like to tear your fake hair off of you scalp?
You disgust me.
You tiny, filthy viruses plaguing my schoolground
With your running makeup and your acne ridden faces.
Why do you have to crawl in my sandpit?
Why me?
You wear a cross around your neck and I wonder why it doesn't burn you.
You probably think you're very pretty with your big black eyes and shiny pink lips.
Well, I think you look like a cheap slut.
And pin your fringe back, it's terribly oily.
It looks like you rubbed grease into it.
Did you just bump into me?
You better not have just bumped into me.
Don't you know who I am?