Spoilt presence is a mother fucker and as I sit in my room, reliving the aftermath, the four sausages mum made for me left to dry, smeared sauce over bread, the lost thoughts of my mind in the last piece of literature, that is truly spoilt presence. Spent movies, rewound and lying on my floor barely worn from it’s viewing, my fingers persistently and strenuously touching keys, thoughts of Lyssa in my mind fresh of our night and it’s ending. Confusion set none upon me when turmoil knocked on my door. Thus, I stopped writing my last entry short of what I thought would be an hours worth, so suddenly halted and exchanged for a shorter passage, only ten minutes long of thought.
My realization was true, Lyssa was at the door and she was asking me to Lonestar with her. The day had brought along such happiness and somewhat agitated my confusion at one stage but I accepted Lyssa’s offer. Kieran was waiting in the car and we were accepting each other as friends for this voyage but in the cracks of darkness, amidst the honest confusion we did draw close and enchant our lips once or twice. Darkness doth conceal but a mind that is darkened by concealment of truth in love and amnesty in confusion. That mind that chose to wander and turn a head when such hidden love was dampened by the night’s glow was Kieran’s, who chose to keep thoughts of all to himself.
Before I continue and leave my house and you with my mind do travel, let me explain my whole day in motion as it was slowed of progress by a sudden burst of energy from Lyssa. The knock on my door, let us slow that factor until we have everything in chronology, in perspective. Before I move on let me just add one more thought. Fate is detrimental to the present, the future and plays an important role of morals to the past. I should know this, fate has dealt it’s bludgeoned hand to me on more than a fold of occasions. Everyday is destiny owed to fate and although fate leads to continuous answers, continual understanding it also delivers the question asked so often “What if.” Jacked into my mind as droplets of water hit my Chest, splurging my body’s parched lips, cracking the seal and moistening an unanswerable question “What if.” The turn of events led after the lost years were the right choice for me to reveal my wrongs and to move on but never to forget. My mind doth ask from time to time that universal question “What if” and tonight I ponder on those likely words for a likely event involving Jewell. Thoughts are too few of Jewell and most days thoughts of Jewell are none but tonight they have gathered with the droplets fallen unto my body. Subdued by reality I constrict my thoughts but I do believe that such a catastrophic turnaround could have been fabricated by one thing…
What if Jewell kissed me that night she came over, the moment of truth, the moment I had planned on paper for so long without realization. What if all that history of September 16th came true and my parchments didst lie not to me. What if I kissed Jewell that night when all was right and she had returned to me so divine what my heart would have desired, what if… That question can never be answered but embraced it can be time and time again. My head does not slam against any walls, I do not kill myself for the answer nor do I really want to know of any heavenly being the answer, I am content with my life, without Jewell. “What if” shall always be unsolved but to think upon that in theory I would say this small part. For my beliefs, Jewell would be with me right now, in the city, watching a movie, maybe even at my house. Jewell would have made me very happy to be with her and for my beliefs of hiding nothing I would talk to Lyssa no longer. That is the sad reality of loving one and as I have learnt now that truth, I no longer speak to Jewell as love is not an issue. “What if” I ask for the last time and hope that this question never forms an answer, it would be wrong and unjust.
Sunday, let me now speak about that as I will have no time beyond this point as far as I can see. Finally, three days later I get to conclude such a day that had no time to heed. Sunday for me began late, in the afternoon to be exact. The time just ticked past midday on Sunday when my phone rang and realizing that the sun was out and I had a plan at the beach with Ralf I gathered who it would be. The alarm that I set for 11:00 a.m. was allowed to ring because Saturday night was a long night with my Diary for me and I didn’t have enough sleep. Ralf just asked me over the phone if we were still headed to the beach and sounding enthusiastic even though I was overtired I told him I would be ready in half an hour.
Jumping into the shower and grabbing myself something to eat very quickly I dried my hair and slapping on a hat and some clothes I called Ralf. Informing him that I would be there in twenty minutes I decided to then put my hair up in a ponytail and finally I left for Ralf’s house. The walk was at a fast pace but my time was hurried for nothing. Arriving at Ralf’s house I knocked a couple of times and then when there was no answer I knocked on his window. Ralf answered the door and told me he was on the phone and he would be off in a minute. That minute turned into half an hour and as I grew restless I expended energy on calling Ralf’s dog over. When Ralf was done talking to some girl he is having a date with some time this weekend he got himself ready. We all know Ralf, he takes forever to get ready, ten perfumes mixed together, all the essential clothes, the right pair of shoes, check himself in the mirror a couple of times, whatever he does, he takes his time.
Snails passed faster than my precious time and pursuing our venture when Ralf was ready we headed out of his door and made our walk to the train station. Ralf chose to walk through Bradbury Park, a bit of a weird way to go because I thought it was longer but weird people work in weird ways. Before Ralf could even buy himself a ticket which he boasted that he desperately needed because he didn’t want to get busted our train arrived. Ralf had to forget about buying a ticket at least to Sydenham and as we jumped on our train in a hurry we sat ourselves upstairs. Now to this part I’m a bit scratchy but there is always hot girls on the trains and I gather that the trip to Sydenham must have had Ralf and I feasting our eyes on beautiful girls as a warm-up to the days events.
Reaching Sydenham Ralf had the chance to buy himself a ticket but he chose against it. Trying to decide where our first destination would be I put Miranda in the air and being 2:30 p.m. we would have had an hour at the most before we had to leave the shopping center. There we sat on the platform contemplating our destination and we finally came up with Cronulla even though I didn’t have a valid ticket. The first train arriving was one to Sutherland and Ralf deciding he was getting a bit impatient decided it be best to jump on this train. The irony of this situation as we sat ourselves downstairs facing girls on the other side of the carriage was that I could see two beat cops walking through the furthest sliding doors.
Warning Ralf of the possible dangers we jumped out of our seats and almost hearing the suspense music in the background we started to countermove against the cops. Making our way to the last carriage we hoped that the police would be busy asking for tickets but that wasn’t the case. The cops were on our ass as quick as we jumped off our seats, they weren’t checking for tickets at all. Handing Ralf an old ticket just as the two beat cops made their way up the stairs to the last portion of the train I was sure they would ask for our tickets and Ralf was scared of getting busted. The way Ralf had seen it, he could get his license in one week and if he got a fine, any sort of fine his bid to obtain a license would be cancelled for the next six months. Two stations from Miranda the doors swung open upon stopping and as the cops didn’t get out we thought not to take a chance.
Diary Of A Mad Chaos is a daily diary written from March 1996 until today, of which individual books and book series have been created, namely “The Lost Years” an exploration of young, entwined love, the “Wubao In China (猎艳奇缘)” book series which provides an extensive comparative analysis of the cultural differences between Eastern and Western societies, and the book titled “Foreigner (华人)” an exploration of race relations in Australia.
