Thursday, May 20, 2010
Evil Driver
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Pretty Perfect
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Another Dream and Stuff
Lately I’ve been thinking about Mark Priestley again. I don't know why his death has affected me so much and for such a prolonged period of time. It's not as if I had met the actor before he committed suicide, I wasn't even much of a fan... he was just the best character in my mum's favourite show, and yet I think about him so often.
The other day there was a boy in my Legal Studies lecture, a few rows in front of me and a dozen chairs to the left, who looked so much like Mark Priestley that I couldn't help but stare at him for most of the lecture. I think I almost cried. I should probably say that I don't have a crush on this boy at all, I was/am merely fascinated by his uncanny resemblance to Mark Priestley. Later that same day as I was walking to a tutorial, I saw him again. As we crossed paths, he looked and smiled at me... I think I may have frowned in response (a strange combination of surprise, confusion and wonder). I hadn’t noticed him around uni before that day and it reminded me of the dreams I used to have; for at least two months after Mark Priestley's death I dreamt the same kind of dreams every night. One went like this:
Mark: Hi, Luna.
Me: Hi! I'm so glad you're here.
Mark: I have a scarf now, so I'm nice and warm for the time being.
Me: *notices green and brown scarf around his neck.
Mark: Thanks.
Me: What for?
Mark: For the scarf. It makes me feel better.
Me: I hope it's given you something worth living for.
Mark: I'm only alive here and now, soon this will just be a dream.
Me: Why isn't it a dream at the moment?
Mark: Because it feels real to you now, when you wake up it won't. I am speaking to you as Jesus speaks to his followers.
Me: Jesus comes to people in their dreams? Is that what this is?
Mark: If it offers you some kind of comfort, then yes.
Me: I'll miss you if you die. Please don't kill yourself.
Mark: You've given me the scarf, that's all you can do. You can't stop what has already happened, I must die. You don't understand.
Me: maybe I do! Maybe I can make everything better. I can save you.
Mark: *walks into the 'Bakery of Death' and I watch as his green scarf falls to the floor, a saintly halo forms above his head and then he is frozen like the familiar picture of Jesus my Grandma owns.
One other variation of this dream involves him running up an escalator which goes all the way to heaven with a gun in his hand saying, "you can't follow me up here or you'll end up in heaven as well, Luna" before shooting himself in front of the helpless dream me.
The other day I borrowed a book from the library called ‘Life of Pi’ because apparently it was Mark Priestley’s favorite book. The following excerpt reminded me of him:
“My suffering left me sad and gloomy… When you’ve suffered a great deal in life, each additional pain is both unbearable and trifling. My life is like a memento mori painting from European art: there is always a grinning skull at my side to remind me of the folly of the human condition. I mock this skull. I look at it and say, “You’ve got the wrong fellow. You may not believe in life, but I don’t believe in death. Move on!” The skull snickers and moves even closer, but that doesn’t surprise me. The reason death sticks so closely to life isn’t biological necessity- it’s envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud.”
That’s really all I have to say, I wasn’t even going to write about Mark Priestley, his favourite book or sleep suicide, I guess that’s what happens when you log into your blog and say to yourself “just write about anything.”
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Tiny Teddy Land
When I was four years old I had a dream, it went like this:
In a world not dissimilar to our own, the Tiny Teddy race lives together in harmony. There is a small village in Tiny Teddy land, a nameless yet very important village indeed, where The Well of Life stands at the top of a grassy hill. From chocolate to vanilla Teddies, everybear is created in the magical water of the well. There is no discrimination in their world and everybear feels just as worthy and special as the next. There are no girls or boys, and everybear loves every other bear equally (when I was little, I thought that the only difference between girls and boys was the length of our hair and that you married someone (a girl or a boy, didn’t matter) to make them happy, and also that princesses always married princes in the Disney films I watched simply because the ‘video makers’ wanted a gender even cast, so that there was an evenly fair number of boys and girls in every movie. So Snow White didn’t make much sense to me: there were so many male dwarves but they made her love interest a boy as well and Snow White was obviously a girl but her hair was short! Oh the confusion of that film.)
This Utopian world of small eatable bears is seemingly perfect, the sun is always shining (there sun doesn’t melt them at all), the apple tree next to The Well of Life is always producing ripe apples (which they don’t eat, but hey, it looks nice), the Well itself has never been even slightly defaced and its silver bricks shine down upon the village below at all times. But, like in all worlds, there is a place in this village where Teddies can get hurt. This place is called The Pub.
At the bottom of Well Hill, in the quite, peaceful village below, The Pub is always looming, just waiting for Teddies to enter. When everything is perfect and nothing ever goes wrong, where can a bear find fun? You see, it is an error of every world that we always want more than what we’ve got. That is why the Teddies were persistently curious to visit The Pub, even though they knew of the dangers.
One by one, Teddies of all shapes and flavours walked down the narrow steps to the dark underground of The Pub. No one ever knows what goes on down there, but when the Teddies finally emerge they are not happy. They are always missing at least one limb. Out came a chocolate Teddy with no left ear, a vanilla Teddy with no right leg and a chocolate chip Teddy with no arms at all! Oh, the sad faces on the little Teddies were utterly heart breaking.
Supporting each other in anyway they were capable of, they made there way across the bridge and up the hill to The Well. It was only together, as a team, that they made it to the top. One by one, they rubbed The Well’s water onto the crumbling patches of cookie where their leg, arm or ear used to be. Their limbs magically reformed, leaving them whole once again.
Fourteen years later and I still remember this dream like I dreamt it only last night. My subconscious seems to hold it in my memory as if it’s the most import dream I’ll ever have. I’d never told anyone this dream before, until last night, when I suddenly felt it appropriate to tell my dad. This is what he said:
“This is a good dream. It’s nice. It isn’t a bad dream. Even though the Teddies got themselves hurt they were all better in the end. There’s always a way to make things better, when things change for the worst they can always be put right again. When you were little you had a happy view of the world, you knew bad things happened but you always knew that they could be made good again.”
And so I’ve come to the revolutionary conclusion that my four-year-old self subconsciously knew that I would need to revisit this dream in the future, that it would be comforting when I was older. Why else would I remember this one little dream? I dream a lot, but I don’t usually remember dreams from years ago. This dream is special, but I never knew why. Now I know (once again) that when I feel like I’m missing a limb, all I need to do is go to The Well of Life and make things better. The Well of Life is always there, so I’ll try not to forget about it again.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
A Love Film Rule or Two
Monday, March 22, 2010
A.L.I.C.E
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Rise of the Lycans

