blobby

fitzroy hemmed in by a margin, fringed by a fringe. marginalia. who is the outside, would the real outsider please raise your hand. dont intellectualise, dont intellectualise. smith st is not a discourse on power. its just a street. some people live by it, some on it most through it. when a policeman talks to a homeless man, when there are four police cars before there is one ambulance to an unconscious Aborignal man in the middle of the street. these are moments outside of the centre. i choose to see what i see, i read what i read. whats real. whats just me. who knows.

suburbs read like that. mapped out, fenced in. an artery of dirt and blood and too much wine running under the skin.

god i even rhyme unconciously, thats truly disturbing, Dr Zeus and Tennyson have a lot to answer for. i really need to do some excercise bloborama needs to move it move it. unfortunately i also need to write 6000 words read two books and write a tute presentation in the next two weeks. all bodes well for blobomatic becoming the champion blobmeister at the blobothon. blob blob. having said that i resolutely decide to do some social activies this weekend before blobotron self digests.