After Sunday night, I realise I still have one emotion that remain undiluted and immediate. Anger.

I find it disrespectful that you both appear in front of me. When you make the decision to seduce your friend's girlfriend, or your boyfriend's friend, (the order is not important), you must live with the consequences. In this case, that means not being able to hang out with mutual friends when I'm around. I should not have to avoid you. You should be avoiding me. It's small beer compared to what I'm going through.

I accept that you are together. But if you think things are now okay and everything can return to normal you are very wrong. I should not have to tell you how inappropriate it is, or how hurt I feel.

Have I not given up enough? Must you take away my friends and dignity as well? I do not feel comfortable around you. You have betrayed me and robbed me of my faith and ideals.

Let me make it clear. I never want to see the two of you together, and I never want to see his face again. Sound familiar? Yes, that's because I said it 4 months ago, remember? Even before you cowards admitted it.

Stay the fuck away from me.


I remember when you filled my heart with joy
Was I blind to the truth? Just there to fill the space?
Cause now you have no interest in anything I have to say
And I have allowed you to make me feel dumb
What kind of fool am I that you so easily set me aside?

You made a fool of me
Tell me why
You say that you don't care but we made love
Tell me why
You made a fool of me, you made a fool of me

I want to kiss you
Does he want you with the pain that I do?
I smell you in my dreams
But now when we're face to face you won't look me in the eye
No time, no friendship, no love
Don't say don't touch you - I can't touch you no more
Can't touch you anymore anymore
I don't touch you anymore

In the past few days, I've watched The End of the Affair and The Quiet American - two films that are both based on books by Graham Greene. I've always liked Graham's work. He wrote about colonialism, war and the pain of loving someone you cannot have. He built a literary career out of it. He returned time and time again to doomed love and its allegorical relationship to death and the end of an era. As much as the moth loves the flame, they can never be together, for one will extinguish the other.

In the End of the Affair, Graham Greene's character employs a private detective to steal his lover's diary. Reading those pages, he discovers the real reason for the end of their affair. But today, our diaries are readily available on the net. There is no need for such subterfuge.

I struggle to keep my diary truthful. I don't lie, but I find myself censoring all the time. I will delete in the morning that which I wrote the previous night. Dewy lines of thought that condense in the coolness of dusk, evaporate in the clarity of daylight.

You could be reading one of those mysterious disappearing passages now. Like illicit lovers between sheets, these ideas are here only for a quickie or a one night stand.

Some truths disappear because they have been unfaithful. When you're not looking, they have all sorts of promiscuous meanings and say things you never dreamt they would say. Fucking words! You can't even trust the ones you love.

But sometimes, truths are replaced simply because a few lines of jazz says it all.

You wanted to break up before we grew to hate each other. It seems ridiculous now. How could you think I would not hate you? But who would've guessed? Not a day goes by that I don't still think of you, and miss all that we had.

We may never meet again, on the bumpy road to love.
Though I'll always keep the memory of,
The way you hold your knife
The way we danced til three
The way you changed my life...
No, they can't take that away from me.

And that's the last of it. No more Gershwin for you. You're with George Michael now.

How are you? How's the new job? Where's your lovely girlfriend? Xmas and New Years. Too many faces I haven't seen in too long. Too many questions. Yes I'm still alive. Just trying to stay positive, focusing on what I have, rather than what I don't have. I try to stay busy to keep the dark thoughts at bay. But I'm getting tired of running from my past, from a pain that chases me night and day, like Frodo and his ring wraiths.

The darkness closes in. I absolutely wasted today. Weekends are invaluable, not to be frittered away, staying at home, waiting... waiting... Didn't do anything of note except finish my book, Nabakov's "Invitation to a Beheading". As the title suggests, not exactly the sort of reading material that offers much comfort or cheer. Cincinnatus spends the entire book waiting to be executed. How fitting. The much-anticipated date failed to materialise. If the "3 strikes and you're out!" rule was applied, this game would be over.

I woke up from a dream with an idea for a film. A boy walks into a cafe and waits. He orders a milkshake and wonders if this milkshake is his fate. As the minutes tick by, he knows each sip takes him further away from her. If she doesn't call before he reaches the bottom of the glass, he will walk. But deep down inside, he is scared of walking. He wants her to call. Lots of voiceover. The final shot is of an empty glass on the table. He walks.

Impermanence is bugging me. I was with meiu for 3 years. And now what am I to her, but a trickle of mp3s in her email, and a phonecall on her birthday? And what of my best friends from school and uni? They're all overseas or interstate now... Our friendship has been reduced to postcards.

Who needs forever? Everything has its time and place... and all good things come to an end... but I desire continuity... love... loyalty... things that matter. Please stay and linger! If nothing lasts forever, why do we trust and love and sacrifice? You will not be there for me. You will be forgotten. I will die. The oceans will swallow all, the planet will return to dust and supernova. One has no choice but to be an existentialist, and live only for what one has now, in the moment. Why promise yourself away? Why devote yourself to an ideal, an illusion of security? If you are not a fool already, you will be made a fool.

I no longer believe in fate, or destiny or God. I believe in creation, in the great becoming and being of the universe. When I die, I shall disperse and return to the gaseous state from which I came. My atoms shall go on to form new objects. But my presence in the space-time continuum shall not be denied. I existed. I was. This is what happened. The complexity is beautiful. I am impermanent, but all existence is perpetual.

The story of creation is no singular, linear story. It is adaptation on adaptation. There is no single string of fate, but billions upon billions of tiny intersecting ripples that we create from a multitude of individual decisions. Yours interrupt mine, and vice versa. No one can say to me, this was meant to happen. No one can rightfully say, I'll love you forever.

I have a friend who is beautiful, kind, warm and amusing. I sense she wants to be more than friends. But I'm not sure I'm ready for the thrill and flutter of romance. Distrust, anger, bitterness... it's holding me back. The thought written down becomes less oppressive. But some thoughts are like a tumour. You express it, you excise it, and it grows back worse than before. I've been told I should fuck around until I find my feet. But I'm not sure if that would be healing, or harmful. This kind of emotional cancer is dangerous. I need a girl who can shatter the numbness and restore my faith. I want my sense of wonder back. I want to feel inspired again.

I look at my friends today. Big props to ML, YP, TN, JT, NP, JJ n Miso. You guys were there for me and I treasure you for it... even if you won't be there forever. One love. You are music to my ears. You are the return of the Mack.

A new year, a blank slate, an opportunity to review and renew goals.

Discussion with the boyz. Resolutions for the year. Disaster wants a new investment property. Danger wants to avoid getting pregnant. Nereis wants to improve in all areas.

Study. Learn. Socialise. Strengthen. Travel. Inspire. Be Happy.

I've been spending more time reading lately. Easy company. Other worlds. Sometimes more real than my own. I used to read books to gain an edge in storytelling. To be able to draw upon unusual subjects and structures to create my films. But lately I ask myself, "Why are you reading books whilst you still have use of a healthy body?" The time for accumulating property and hoarding assets will come later, now is the age of seduction and sport! Books will wait until you are old and decrepit, in silence they will transport you from the isolation of your bed, the limitations of your mortality. It seems a waste of youthful charm and ability, to stay inside, buried in text.

But there is a need for effortless distraction and entertainment. Things to talk about. Imagination on tap. And books, usually written by old men, can provide invaluable instruction on what should be cherished in youth. Lessons in life. Keys to the universe. And it would be against logic for a book to suggest one foresake reading until ripe old age, after all, authors must earn the right to eat too.