.notes.

About Souls
This poem is just as random as it sounds. It has no meaning; I was just reading some short prose experiments and decided to try my own.

After Breakfast With a Vampire
A school assignment was to write about eating breakfast with someone interesting. I picked my favourite Anne Rice character creation, Armand, before realising a vampire wouldn’t see the light of day. I suppose that this should more aptly be titled ‘A Midnight Snack with a Vampire’. But who ever said I was logical?

Another One Down
Frustration at the fact that too many bad things happen to all my friends, while nothing happens to me.

Ben Poem
Born of guilt. I wrote multiple poems about the members of silverchair at one point and, looking back on them, discovered that I had NONE specifically about Ben. So I wrote one. The title is more of an hommage than a product of creative laziness.

Black Tangled Heart
Inspired and titled from the silverchair song of the same name. I didn’t want to write just a typical breakup story, since the emotion conveyed in the song is anything but typical. The most important things involved in these debacles, it seems to me, are the things people say. So the entire story is not told, but said, through the mouths of the two individuals to whom everything would matter the most and thus seem the most significant.

Blame
Ah, the joy of magnetic poetry. This arose from the ‘Genius Edition’ (otherwise I never would have used such words as ‘sustenance’ or ‘maligned’).

Blind
A personal reflection on my own and the media’s ignorance of male anorexia. Blindness seemed to be a universal problem.

Buried Under Beauty
When I resolved to write this, to my knowledge, no poem written about Hideto ‘hide’ Matsumoto addressed his uncanny ability to be shameless in everything he said and did. He never dressed anything up in a candy coating - he was rough, raw, flamboyant, and outright ridiculous at times. Somehow, decorating hide’s grave with flowers doesn’t seem appropriate. I’d rather spraypaint the grass pink around his headstone.

Burn My Knees
In a contest challenge created by Amanda for the silverchair philosophy, I was told to write a story, any story, as long as the title or topic was ‘burn my knees’ (a line from the chorus of ‘Emotion Sickness’ by silverchair). The burning was my main material here, because frankly, I don’t claim to know what knees have to do with anything. I got second place. Guess no one else really did either.

Camelot: An Epilogue
I have an obsession with Morgan Le Fey. She’s evil, magestic, sexy, and a complete badass. I played her role in the musical ‘Camelot’, only to find that she had been reduced to cardboard. This angered me very much, and so I wrote this, determined to give Morgan the complex and tragic voice she deserves.

Connected By a Love and a Breath
I decided to play off of the personalities of two Gundam Wing pilots, Trowa and Quatre, and their feelings for each other, as well as their strange psychic connection, particularly evident in a few scenes when they are apart (‘He’s crying - I can tell from here’). I was never completely satisfied with the title, but nothing else really fits.

Death: A Speculation
Franz Kafka is one of my idols. I've noticed that, among other things, he seems to have an obsession with food - starvation in particular. I took a few characters from his stories, added an anorexic for a play on the food theme, and came up with a sort of Kafka-soup that can only be described as a strange take on death.

The Dictator's Circus
Pierrot concerts are very much about the music. They are decidedly not surreal in any way, especially when compared to the shows of other Japanese visual rock bands, and fanservice between Kirito and his bandmates is like clockwork. So I wrote a surreal, strange fiction about a Pierrot show that does everything unexpected, but never focuses on the actual music being played. It’s essentially the opposite of reality in every way except setting.

Do You Feel the Same
Based completely on the silverchair song. I have no inside information as to what the lyrics actually refer to, but mine seems a logical interpretation. I decided that there weren’t enough stories about men being used (and it’s a male who sings the song). So I wrote one.

Emotion Sickness
More song fiction wrought from the fascinatingly depressing lyrics of silverchair’s Daniel Johns. It follows somewhat of a ‘descent into madness’ pattern, which is the songs general path, musically. I actually consciously used symbolism in this, which hardly ever happens. But hell - if Daniel can be metaphorical, then so can I.

Footsteps in the Rain
To my knowledge, there is no book about a boy with an eating disorder. Hence my inspiration from Craig Nicholls turning into this – a story that very badly needed to be written.

forbidden lover
My first piece of jrock fanfiction, and I like to think, my best. Much of the plotline came from my friend Matt, but I embellished it and wrote it all down. Sexual tension, random roadies flying at Gackt, hide coming out of the toilet - everything in this is played for comic relief. Nobody in it is the slightest bit in character.

for lexei
I only write poetry when I’m emotionally compelled. When Alexei Yagudin thought he might have to stop skating forever, I needed to encourage both him and myself.

The Girl
My magnum opus. The first line is a prompt from a high school English textbook.

A Good Soldier
Gundam pilot Heero Yuy intrigues me, to say the least. Emotionless because caring has been drilled out of him, he is able to focus completely on his task at hand, but unable to comprehend simple emotions, thus making him the ‘perfect soldier’. I took this concept and played around with it.

Heaven Flake
I was discussing Yoshiki with Matt, and we were trying to come up with ways to describe him. He pinned the phrase 'heaven flake'. I loved it so much it became my next poem.

I Can Bleed As Well As Anyone
I’ve read a LOT of silverchair fiction, of all different types. Sadly, what I’ve found is that no matter what genre the story happens to be, the focal point is almost always Daniel. silverfics might as well be referred to as ‘Danielfics’, it’s gotten so bad. Annoyed, I decided to write a silverchair story with my favourite member as the central character - a ‘Chrisfic’, if you will. I have no idea if any of these musings are accurate, but even so, Chris deserves a fictional voice.

Imperfect
A Quatre introspection, inspired by the Gundam Wing scene in which he insists that Trowa is alive, and the scientists give him a hard time for it.

In Retrospect
Does every writer in the world have a poem called this, or what? It’s the only title I could think of. The subject matter is of a mental revelation of sorts. The style is a complete ripoff of my favourite poet, T.S. Eliot, right down to the numbering of sections with Roman numerals. I’m shameless.

java boy
There are two parts to the javaboy saga, as this poem illustrates. I laid eyes on him in a café one day and stared. Many weeks and random encounters later, on a whim, I introduced myself. I still can't believe I did that.

Joker
I had a writing prompt once that told me to look at the joker in a pack of cards and write a piece about him. The only deck I had around was my Gundam Wing one, and Heero, ironically, was the joker. Hence the title (I doubt Heero ever cracked a joke in his life).

The Last Song
I never wanted to write a book. I don’t have the attention span. I like my quick runs through lives, my snapshots that sometimes make little sense, but always get right to the point. The Last Song came to me in a dream, which sounds unbearably cheesy, but it’s true. I dreamt of a rockstar – Yoshiki, actually – getting every memento of his former glory smashed. I wanted to write something about it. But what meaning does memorabilia have without a story of former glory? It expanded. It became an urgent need to tell a rockstar story.

Lost
I disliked my first college. Can you tell?

The Ones
Reflection on my former ignorance of the striking existence of Hideto ‘hide’ Matsumoto.

Paint Pastel Princess
More fiction based on a silverchair song; this less on the lyrics themselves and more on the general subject matter of antidepressants. I had limited knowledge of such treatments and consulted my friend Abby. I have her to thank for the story’s hopefully accurate specifics. P.S.: The beginning is, in fact, taken straight from the side of a Tylenol bottle.

Pink Spider
The first poem I ever wrote about hide, that mad pink machine. This was shortly after I realised he was really gone and never coming back.

Prufrock and Paint Pastel Princesses
Believe it or not, this is the final project for an independent study I did on T.S. Eliot. My advisor was cool enough to let me incorporate my obsession. Dr. Wheeler, you rule.

Random Ramblings: Art of Alexei
Obsessions take over my brain. I'm a writer, and my thoughts always spill onto paper. Take a fascination with Alexei Yagudin, add pen and paper, and this is what you get.

Random Ramblings: BenandChris
When I worked for an online silverchair fanzine, my column was called 'random ramblings'. This is something in the silverchair fandom world that bothers me.

Random Ramblings: Love
I often say that I don’t understand love, which isn’t really true. I don’t understand romantic love. As this rambling testifies, though, there are plenty of other kinds. A specific ‘untouchable’ type, described here, is one of my favourite idiosyncracies.

Random Ramblings: silverchair
In the summer of 1999, silverchair meant more to me than probably anything else. In order to help myself deal with the possibility of them not continuing as a band, I mused and wrote, mused and wrote.

Random Ramblings: Yoshiki
As horribly trite, cheesy, and unrealistic as it sounds, there’s only one way to describe my first view of Yoshiki: love at first sight. Honestly. It was the live ‘Tears’ video that was my first X experience, and seeing his smile hit me at full force. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I wrote this that night in a spill of emotion.

Satin Sheets
Completely a figment of my imagination. I only used a few parts of the actual silverchair lyrics. But I think the story itself stands stronger than any of the other sc fiction pieces.

The Seconds Before Dawn
My little yaoi pride and joy. I really love this, if only for the fact that it’s about my two biggest heroes getting drunk and getting it on. Everyone’s fantasy, right? Well. I put mine on paper. It’s not the happiest thing in the world, but real life never is, and Yoshiki and hide are both beautiful embodiments of naked reality.

Site Assignment
I think it was annual community service day that spawned my hatred for children. For three years in a row, I was assigned to some kind of nursery. WHY GOD, WHY?

Something Named
Some people call this my ‘abuse’ story, and it IS the only time I’ve attempted to depict such a thing so bluntly. The idea, though, is directly from Gundam Wing, as in why someone - Trowa, here - would choose to take the name of their abuser.

The Stranger
One of the only rhyming poems I’ve ever written. It felt right. It’s about hide. It came out in one sitting, with minimal editing later.

The Suicide Kings
Someone once mentioned to me that certain kings in a deck of cards appear to be killing themselves with their various weapons. This person referred to those cards as ‘the suicide kings.’ Fond of the phrase, I used in in a poem.

Sydney
The happiest thing I’ve ever composed, bar none. My euphoric experience in Sydney at sunset.

This Face of Mine
Originally composed for a collection of artistic endeavours to be mailed to Kirito of Pierrot. It has since become a kind of blowing of my metaphorical raspberry at those for whom a language barrier prevents the enjoyment of incredible Japanese music.

This Reality
For some reason, a GW scene kept popping into my head: Quatre finds Trowa at the circus, and confused by Trowa’s complete loss of memory and recognition, runs up to him - but is interrupted by Trowa’s sister Catherine. I decided to write a scene in which Quatre gets to touch him, and then I had to give him motivation and all that rot, so it got much longer. Hopefully it’s bereft of an excess of sap.

Wind
Short, simple, straightforward. I feel this way a lot.

Words
I've written so many things about Yoshiki - what could I come up with for his birthday? I tried, but only visuals came. My sole proof of first-sight love.

Y
The end of X Japan’s career was not a cheerful agreement. Some people lost everything.

You and Me
A simple poetic expression of gratitude, once again directed towards a rockstar.


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