Self sabotage and complete ruin

I am the queen of pumping myself up then exploding all over the place. Burning the candle at both ends. What does it mean to be at peace with yourself? I lay in my bed as I type, wondering wholeheartedly, where is my peace and how do I maintain it. Ease my mind before I burn it all down. It’s right here, in the middle of my chest. A dim light calm yellow light, much like the color of a late night moon, butter.

I’ve always maintained a decent relationship with myself. We’ve had our ups and downs but overall I love myself. Years of self torment. Beating the living shit out of my confidence, ripping myself apart. I’ve chosen to forgive me over and over. Is that where peace is? With in forgiveness. Sitting on the ledge of a plateau, looking down. Slowly being swallowed by some form of misery. Except it can’t quite digest me. I’ve got my arms and legs extended out pushing against the walls of my own cycling demise. If I can see the cycle doesn’t that mean I can destroy it? I know there’s a strength in me that know one else has. Others have similar strength but not mine. I am a collection of all I’ve learned, eclectic.

If the law of the universe states that everything means nothing and we can create everything out of nothing, then why would I choose to create suffering and ruin? I can take the reins back in my own two hands. Stand my ground allow my roots to sink deep into the earth, recharge, then fly away. Time to leave. I hear the wind calling. It whispers to me, your time has come to be gone.

No need to fret, I am the universe.

All there is, is love. All we have is now!

Wild woman

Thoughts corrode my mind

I shower them down my spine

Dissipate to the ground

Fertilize them with love

Cut the knots, unbound

I am free

Go to sleep

Have sweet dreams

Wake up fresh and happy

Wasted minutes

Of things left finished

Instead reviewed over n over

Til I feel like a river

Bath me in kindness


Rewind this and leave it all alone

I should have never shown the keys to my inner home

A heart without a lock

Bleeds smashed against a rock

Ah but it’s my fault again

Crazy passionate

I am what I am

Wild woman running, tumbling in the sand

Adult summer camp

Just your classic wet hot Australian summer over here at Noosa’s #1 party bar. Where wet T-shirt comps, ladyboy shows and top 40 tracks are alive and kicking.

A morphed reality, if you will. Where time seems to spin circles on itself. And I, The ever frothing always sassy bar keep. Ahhhh the aroma of alcohol, sweat and poor decisions.

It’s all fun and games until someone plays the bongos at 1:30am.

Another Friday night staff party for the books. Theme: gender bender / Complimentary drink: Gossips, white wine (wowzaaa) / Camera Roll : blurry pricelessness

Nasty blurs aside, I care for this place and all its antics. I’ve fallen in deep with a dysfunctional friend family. What does any of this really mean? Only enjoy. Just fucking enjoy your life. There are no promises. No obligations. Only participation. Anddd the best thing about participation, you can choose how much you give. So why not loosen the noose around your neck and give in to the art of absolutely nothing. Meaninglessness is essential. Nothing can mean everything and everything can mean nothing.

Who gives a shit how much money you have, what kind of job you do or who you spend your time with. As long as your participating in your own life and content with your choices. Fuck it. Do it. Love it. And then do something else.

I’ve spent too much time worrying about myself. Worrying I’m not making the “right” choices. Sending my mind into the future only to miss out on what’s right in front of me. However will I experience what is to unfold if I keep looking into ‘what’s gunna happen next’?

So I say, fuck it, work at the party bar. Write strange stories. Sing silly songs. Play off key guitar. I don’t give a shit anymore. Hiding behind my fears of how other people will feel is wasteful. Wasteful of my youth.

Horny for life

found me a little home

A place for resting traveling bones

Bum around a beautiful place

Corduroy sunsets and a purple haze

Always a bit dazed

To waste away days

Singing sweet praise

I really need to get paid

Lost in the moment

Let’s enjoy it

Happy days, manta rays, sleep in late

Then take a nap

Close the eyes

Point a finger on a map

Go go go and don’t look back

Blue sheets, bunk bed dreams

False privacy with a white sheet

I float in my mind

From time to time

Waiting for the next move the next vibe

All the answers present themselves

In due time

The earth has no clock yet we set it fast

Longer days appear at last

No need to shed a tear

For all our fears

Are in the rear view mirror

If you keep lookin back

You’ll miss what’s ahead

Stop to think about all the good times had

‘The Shop’

I tasted too much freedom, the itch on the bottoms of my feet were wrapped tight after a new found desire to make money. Less exploring the world and more exploring of my wallet, sexuality and hometown adulthood. Pressure from my mother to find a job was increasing, where could I find my ultimate trifecta; work, play and bang?  My question pressed on until one day an internal light bulb illuminated that which was dark and gloomy; the surf shop. Oh but of course, supple with creativity, cuties, and a curvy bowl. I did what any other horny 17 year old girl would do. Swoop up a damn job.  
‘The Shop’, located at the edge of The County on a swampy marsh which rises over 4 feet on king tides. I walk in, hand my resume and hope for the best. Butterflies fluttered my stomach for two weeks, when I didn’t hear any news I returned with curiosity and persistence. 
Matty, a manager of the shop; big blue eyed sweetheart, shaggy blonde hair, cheek dimples that could kill and whenever he pleased a tall can in his hand. He sat behind the front counter when I walked in.
I smiled sweetly, “Hi, I’m Lil I came in a week or so ago… just wondering if you had any available positions?” Matty strokes his fingers through his hair, and gives a grin, “Yeah, of course I remember you, funny story.. I actually misplaced your resume that’s why I haven’t called you.” My cheeks turn a light shade of rose, “Well oh, that’s ok, no worries.” Matty’s calm and cool, “When can you start?” I look up at him and beam a big ole smile, “As soon as possible.” 
“Alright come in Tuesday after school.” 
“Will do! I finish at 2:40 I can be here by three.” He nods. And I skip out the door. 

My first day is a dusty dream. Sweeping floors, folding shirts, scrubbing a toilet and as a reward $9.75 per hour. My feet itched to be in the surf shop.

On thursday night, as it so happened, I was out with Val and a couple dudes who we were into, the cool type that don’t give a shit about anything yet seem to be riled up easily and spontaneously. It was skate night at ‘The Shop’. We entered the warehouse through the back door, opened by the big boss. Jesse was one of two owners of TS, a small dude with big blue eyes and a warm vibe. A community legend or so I’d heard.  We shake hands, “Hey! Lil, right? I heard you’re workin’ in the front shop. Well we really need to get you in here, we need more girls, it’s a full on bro fest,” he pats one of the ‘boys’, Jake, on the shoulder.
I look at him with astonishment and my cheeks steam up a bit, “I like the sound of that.” 
Jesse leads the way through the skate room opening a red door with plastic paneling allowing a glimpse into the scene. Here lies a beautiful wooden ramp, 6 foot half pipe on the left flowing into a half bowl on the right with a big roll-in leading up to an 8 foot vert near the back. It all flows so nicely together. My mouth dropped. Awe took over me like a virus in a healthy body. I had been on a skateboard once, in sixth grade. Seeing these boys skate was an awakening. They looked effortless, floating on tiny wheels up and over curves with a gracefulness that would be hard to imagine if you saw them walking on the street.
 “So, have you ever skated, Lil?” Jesse asks with eyes locked on the skaters. “No, but I’m sure keen to try.” I stepped on the board. Right foot stomped over the front bolts. I’m staring at my feet.. How the hell do I do this. “Just push a little, Lil. Then hop on” I hear a voice say with encouragement. So I give a little push, sending my board forward in slow motion with me still on. No shit. Maybe I can do this. 

The reality of being one of the only girls in a boys club became overwhelming at times. Gaining respect looked like this; take a fucking heckle like a champ, hopping on skateboards/slamming off skateboards, shredding with the boys. I found my place stumbling. Spellbound and delighted. I threw myself into the scene and didn’t dare move out. 
There was nothing I could do but fall, endlessly fall. Enter if you dare, the vortex of ‘The Shop’ captivates, inspires and connects you to another world. Creak through the red plank door enter a portal to another reality. Eyes immediately pulled to a curvy wooden wonderland. Enchantment is inevitable. A muske of dust, sweat and sawdust permeate the air. 
Stepping onto a skate was the only thing that made sense. I’d been summoned. The ball of my foot found the sweet spot between the four front bolts. First pushes were sloppy, loose and ended with a slam to the ground. Back on my feet again. Over and over I would push, swing my body up the ramp, come back down with the wind of my own effort in my hair. A taste of freedom was found, I’m salivating. 
Slam after slam I couldn’t stop. It wasn’t a punishment, it was a lesson. Change the weight of your leg, turn your shoulders this way-that way, break through the butterflies and that inclination that makes you wanna pee just before you’re about to try something new. My skate was contagious. Even as all these beautiful things kept forming around me, my focus wouldn’t stop rubber-necking on a true-fine-love.

I wipe my hands clean

I wipe my hands clean

Recreating what it means to be

Getting real with the hard things

Chippin away this old reality

Nothing is ever the same as you and another think

I wipe my hands clean

Rearrange the problem

Create a solution

Muster resolution

I wipe my hands clean

Taking responsibility of my feelings

What does it mean to speak your truth

If you don’t know the truth

Twisted and diluted 

Put myself in another’s shoes 

I wipe my hands clean

Stepping into new dreams

Stripping old themes

May I burn to the ground 

Raise a smile from a frown

Fly so high I can’t be bound


After work one night I was rolling around by myself when a few of ‘the boys’ from work who were far better than me and quite good at lookin’ good on a board, rocked up.  I scrambled off the ramp and sat on the bench while they took over. 

“Lil! What up, not gunna skate anymore? That’s no fun. Come skate with us.” Mac winks at me and strides up the wedge to the flat top. “Well, I was gonna chill for a sec and ya know catch my breathe… plus you guys are so good I don’t wanna slow you down.” 

He looks back at me, “Are you nervous or something, Lil?” That fuckin’ smirk complimenting his deep voice sent a titillating shiver through the depths of me. The horndog was awakened. I pop up, “Ha nervous around you guys? Never.” As the lie flowed out of my mouth, I thought I was going to dribble a little. 

We turned up the music and began to thrash the wood. Mac had my undivided attention, He held the allure of a sex-god … naturally I was determined to get into his pants. He skated like he was surfing a wave, each turn flowed into the next, his shirt floating up his carved body and his pants sagged down revealing where his lower back met top of his ass; was he not wearing any undies? I pressed the back of my fingers to my mouth and cast my eyes down. I had to physically turn my head as to not stare too long. He got my heart pounding and my panties soaking. Now it was my turn. 

A devilish smile thrown my way after he slashed a long loud front side grind, I looked back at him and I decide to go for it, try a front side grind on that mouth watering diamond cut coping  (it is orgasmically satisfying). I roll down the wedge, my shoulders tilted down then launching up the half pipe, I open my arms to turn right, I gently push my back wheels towards the coping feeling the vibration of metal on metal then come back down with my front shoulder down and a heavy front foot. A beaming smile spread wide on my face, I feel victorious yet ready for another trick, this is when I realize my board has stopped but I have not. I’m flying through the air without my board, due to a small pebble which halted my wheels but kept me flying towards the ground like a drunken super woman, rubbing my arms boobs,belly, and upper legs against half the ramp. WOW, wood burn is incredible. I lay there pretty sure all humility is exposed, definitely aware that the boys are shocked by what just happened. As I roll over with my eyes closed the words, “FUCK ME” slip out of  my mouth. I open my eyes to see three strapping young men looking over me with worried eyes, “Lil! Are you ok? Can you get up? Holy shit you’re GNARLY!” 

“I feel a little dazed, not gonna lie, what just happened?” I picked my head up a little to look down at my body to make sure I’m not bleeding. I’m not. Phew. Then I start laughing at the pain, the fall scared me more than the damage done “Holy shit that was crazy.” I reach my hands up so they could pull me to my feet, then dusting the dirt off I try to act cool and undisturbed, “Did you see that!? I totally grinded the shit out of the coping, FRONT SIDE.”  

“Dude you killed it, you wanna sit down for a little bit bud?” My coworker, Jake insists that I sit down, but my brow furrows and I push that comment aside, “Absolutely not. I’m gonna have a sip of my beer and go again!” 

Mac follows me to the bench, “I like watching you skate, lookin’ pretty hot when you fall too.” My eyes widen as the words caress my ears. He squeezes my arm a little then jogs back up the ramp. His pants loose around his hips, exposing just the right amount, provoking dirty thoughts, fuck I want that boy. Slamfuckingtastic.