The Tracey Fragments

'When a horse falls, foam comes out of its mouth. When it falls, the legs of the horse thrash and the horse is no good... So somebody shoots it. The horse turns into glue. A machine puts the glue into bottles and children squeeze the bottles to get the glue out and stick bits of paper onto cards. Glue gets on the children's hands and the children eat the glue. And the children become the horse.' -Tracy Berkowitz

'I don't like the country. Creeps me out. In the country, dead bodies live in swamps, and ditches, and shallow graves. A man dumps the body of a girl in a ditch. The body rots; Melts into slime. Flowers pop up where the body lies, seeds fly out of the flowers, and a bee sucks the flowers and makes honey. And then the family of the girl buys the honey from the store. And the family eats the girl.' -Tracey Berkowitz

'He stuck his cock in me and said I love you, in that exact order. Now I'm not afraid to die. 'Cause like birds and bees and bugs, they all die after they fuck.' -Tracey Berkowitz


I love this movie.

'Look, I'm not what you think. I'm not junk, I'm not a dink. I'm not garbage flowers you leave to rot and stink, and smell, and curl up all dry and papery so they crumble as crusty as the flowers on this fucked up shower curtain.' -Tracey Berkowitz

'One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don't. And it feels like someone's cut you open with a jagged piece of glass.' -Tracey Berkowitz

'Remember in the news? When two retards had a kid? Well, that was me.' -Tracey Berkowitz

'I kinda like to ride a different bus every night depending on my mood. Like, if I'm depressed, I enjoy being around other depressed people. And happy people, they frickin depress me! You know?' -Tracey Berkowitz

Tracey Berkowitz played by Ellen Paige (from Juno). You gotta see it.

Key to Living.

I've just realised something, after reading a new post on a friend's blog, where he explains how he never seems to feel like he's living in the moment - really involving himself in life, and how he feels slightly detached, and then wondering why this could be - whether it's being overly mature, lack of experiences in life, or not having experienced passion and romantic relationships.

I've decided that it could be the amount of unpleasant experiences - whether it be throughout childhood, bad relationships, anything - is key to how you experience life. I believe this because, for one, you cannot truly have a great experience without having something to compare it to, and if you've had particularly horrible experiences, you're going to think the experience you're comparing them with is really good. This is why I value crappy experiences so much, which sounds stupid, but I really believe that we learn from everything.

What I guess I'm saying is, the worse experiences you've had, the more you're going to enjoy your life. I can honestly back this up by saying that I've experienced numerous amounts of shitty things throughout my short life, including domestic violence, poverty in different countries, divorce, moving across the face of the Earth leaving loved ones behind, being savagely bullied, and a whole lot of really shitty situations. But this means I value life a whole lot more, and I frequently smile at little things the world can offer. Like walking home from school, and seeing mothers with their tiny children smiling and laughing - my heart leaps, and I really hope they cherish moments they have for all they're worth.

So when opportunities come around that offer any enjoyment, I say take them, and if they ever go wrong you can learn something. I take pride in being adventurous, and I'm not really afraid of anything anymore.

The Bird and the Worm.

This kid is a worm. A nervous, tiny, squirming thing filled to the brim with uncertainty. Under constant attack. I wish I could say that since this kid in fact is a worm, he doesn't have feelings. But he does. His emotions run his life. He calls himself a lonely child instead of an only child. The idea of confidence laughs in his vulnerable face.
Hidden inside the shelter of what he thinks he needs to be accepted by his fellow peers, what is supposedly "cool", he trudges through the slushy mud that is the only thing that holds all these school children together. He searches for a safe haven where he can find people to hide between.

This kid is a freaking bird. A sly, swift, vicious girl. She looms over her prey... watching, waiting. She mingles with the right crowds, pushes down everything underneath her as she soars off into a social high. It only takes her seconds to sniff out the faint-hearted, and she's darting towards them, intimidating... capturing... devouring. It makes her feel powerful.

It was purely due to their characteristics that they ended up in her room. She was a bird that played with her food, he was a worm that took stupid risks to survive. He sat on her bed, completely out of place, and slightly terrified. He kept to himself, and tried to imagine being as small as possible, while she attempted to drag him into her ruse with those dark, tauntingly irresistible eyes, and that wickedly inviting smile.
"What's wrong? Haven't you ever been in a girl's room before or someshit?" He felt his stomach flutter as she addressed him. He heard the sneer in her tone, and felt his hands shake and his heart race. He stuttered in a wave of panic. He was supposed to answer, and he had no idea what to say. "Come on... don't be scared!" She was gaining power; it was evident in her voice. She fed off the pure panic perceptible in his fearful round eyes.

---

[unfinished - stay tuned.]

[6/01/10] So I'm reading this after I wrote it like a year ago. I want to find out what happens next, just like some of my friends do. Here goes.

---

She searches around in her pockets, her every slight movement purposeful and casual. Packet of cigarettes. Pink lighter. His dad died from shit-filled lungs, booze and what the world had done to him, all built up and spun around in a blender. His mum took the lid off there were his ashes.

"Want one?" She holds out a Mayfair.

"Y-y..yeah." He swallows. He puts it in his mouth, she lights and he coughs. She smiles, amused and a little disapproving; not unlike a mother watching her five-year-old son finding out what sticking your middle finger up means. He takes it out of his mouth, holding it between his thumb and index finger as if it were a living thing. Maybe a worm.

"You're really boring." She states, then sighs and glances out the window. "Hah look, it's snowing." It was too. Huge round flakes landed on the ground. She looked back at the boy. "It's like God's having a mass wank session." She grins. "Ash here by the way. What you trying to do, burn the freaking house down?" He had been silent for a while. Up 'till this point the worm boy had been sitting on the very edge of her bed staring out the window, trying to breath normally and maybe summon up the courage to tell her he needs to leave. At the sound of her last remark he looked at the cigarette, same place he'd left it in his right hand, burning through fast. The pure white paper of the unburned side was being slowly overtaken and possessed with scarring, charring fire. Fire. Jimi Hendrix. Only Jimi saw him naked.

"I have to go." It was like someone else had said it. He got up and walked out of her room, dizzily stumbling. He made it out the door. He didn't know in which direction the tube station was but he wanted to walk around for a bit.

Contrasting my life.

The luxuriously lavish hall was complimented by an equally opulent crowd, the atmosphere flowing with formal and properly pronounced language, accented with sharp, piercing outbursts of ugly laughter and pompous remarks. The audience had risen from their seats, fingers clutching half empty glasses of wine, and as the half hour break in the performance proceeded, socialites gathered to gossip.
The wide stage was hidden behind luscious red velvet curtains, and the walls and ceiling were delicately carved and painted with soft coloured murals of angels. Dizzyingly strong scents of expensive perfumes and cigars bloomed from women and men’s elaborate clothing, as did wine and chocolate explode from each of their mouths as they carelessly babbled.
Talk time was over. The throng slowly took their seats once more as the curtains pulled back to unleash a booming voice erupting from a short, red-faced chubby man wearing ornate clothing - a gold and red waistcoat on top of a white frilly shirt, and smart black trousers. The crowd silently nodded in approval occasionally throughout the duration of this man’s well-respected and thunderous performance.

The hall was full of smoke produced by smoke machines surrounding the stage. Rainbow lights that flashed around wildly reflected the crowd’s collective energy as they bounced and sweated like a sea before the stage. The deafening scratchy sound system flaunted the band’s grungy, unruly music that was accented by the screeches coming out of teenage girls reaching towards their Gods.
Drunken brawls broke out and people stumbled about after taking too many drugs that dispersed quickly from dealers. The stuffy air was filled with scents of cheap cigarettes and strong alcohol.
Chaos erupted as the deafening wailing of sirens surrounded the location, and the crowd spilled out onto the streets as the band still violently performed in protest.

Religions of the World

NOTE: I didn't write this, I saw it on a T-Shirt in Camden Markets & thought it was pretty awesome.

RELIGIONS OF THE WORLD

Taoism: Shit Happens.
Hare Krishna: Shit Happens Rama Rama Ding Ding.
Hinduism: This Shit Happened Before.
Islam: If Shit Happens, Take A Hostage.
Zen: What Is The Sound Of Shit Happening?
Buddhism: When Shit Happens, Is It Really Shit?
Confucianism: Confucius Say, "Shit Happens."
7th Day Adventist: Shit Happens On Saturdays.
Protestantism: Shit Won't Happen If I Work Harder.
Catholicism: If Shit Happens, I Deserve It.
Jehovah's Witness: Knock, Knock, "Shit Happens".
Unitarian: What Is This Shit?
Mormon: Shit Happens Again & Again & Again.
Judaism: Why Does This Shit Always Happen To Me?
Rastafarianism: Let's Smoke This Shit.



:D

Uber Ikea Awesomeness!

I have a ton of memories from hanging out in Ikea with friends in Aus. Jumping on the beds, playing hide & seek, causing havoc all around, attempting to live in those rooms, you name it. But this, this is insane.
My friend sent me this link. You can make the people in this dance. No kidding. You can upload your own music, speak into a microphone or use your keyboard.

CLICK.


To my vast amusement, I uploaded Sugar Sugar by the Archies & made those two guys dance to it. Hilarious.

Enjoy!

It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) - Bob Dylan

I know this is really long, but it says more than I could ever say about how I feel. You gotta read.

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him.

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.

Being true to yourself. (short)

I have a tendency to act like a moron. But it's this intentional thing I've developed from Year 5. I act like a dimwit until I really feel the need to act intelligent. Is this mere laziness? Could be. But there is a reason: if I fool people to think that I have the mental capacity of a wet towel, there's a good chance my sudden burst of cleverness will surprise them, and leave a better impression than if they already knew i was remotely clever.
Although I'm not really that clever. Maybe this illusion makes people see otherwise.


I also want to note that I sort of.. apologise for my last post (slightly off-topic, but meh). It wasn't that great & I was in a hurry. If you think it was crap, hopefully I can change your mind in the near future. Not about it, but about me. Ehh. Yeah.
I'm currently writing like 3 different things... whenever I get an idea I start writing it, and then stop when I can't think of anything else to put, and try to complete another one. So far I'm not conjuring anything particularly magical.

Stay tuned, though. :)

Suuuuuuup.

Crap yeah, it's blogging time. Who the hell am I? Well, I'm 14-year-old-Jazi-from-Mars. I'm originally from Sydney, Australia, but certain circumstances bound me up & shipped me to bright, warm, sunny London. 'Tis the first time I've ever been to a "private" school - I gotta tell ya, it's pretty dayum posh. The thing that bugs me mega though, is the amount of rules. Like, in Aus, I could actually wear my nose ring, and they actually let me dye my hair rainbow. Here, I can't wear my hair out, let alone exhibit myself in all my unruly glory.

Maybe it's because I look young. And that uberly bugs me. I remember being on the bus in the city in Aus one day, in broad daylight, with my cousin & friends, while I was slightly drunk. I must have been doing something to disturb the lady in front of me, because she turned around & bellowed "What are you, 10!?", and stormed off the bus. I just stared after her. I could have cried. And then there's the people that ask me what year I'm in. "What year are you in?" "I'm in year 10." "...what... really?" Yeah, friggin ass.

Another thing that bugs me is annoyingly dimwitted people. Someone in my year: "FUCK MAN, IT'S 'CAUSE I'M BLACK INNIT?!" Uhh, no. Shut up. Oh, and bad music taste. Someone asked me today if I liked Akon. I said "What... Are you serious? What do you think?" They said yes. I gave them a look of revulsion and started babbling about how sexist that shit is. When they looked at me in confusion I patted their arm and said "You've got a lot to learn, man."

But then again, contradicting my last two paragraphs, I can be dayum immature. Like today, my friend came in with crutches (she did something to her foot), and we spent most of the day pretending they were machine guns, and then lightsabers. We killed approximately 18 students and 4 teachers, one of the teacher's head being blown to smithereens. Then we lay on the floor in the last period & laughed & shot some people & laughed some more.

Anway, I gotta go do my English essay.

Ciao mofo.
:)