Must not lose my focus amidst this numb routine of
riding amonst the expressionless to work on the Sydney System.
My novel still calls. Must buy the tools – a macintosh so I can
write to escape this world. Environment at work is tight – as if
I cannot breathe. Start high and it brings me down. This 9 to 5
syndrome does not empower me – it drains me. Stress or hurt by’
choosing my own path makes me feel alive. I am not one to follow
a predetermined path. Life experience has been too challenging
to withdraw from the game. Quiet souls clicking on the keyboards
no expression or recognition to connect with. Image upon image
with no-where to run – inhibition and company politics
eliminates the difference. To keep a standard position you must conform -
must be reduced to a mindless, expressionless machine. Smart brains
strategise within constraints. Minimalising it all – look at soft faces
it is clear that the soul has been put to sleep.
Routine has reduced the soul to this. Politics we play them.
When I leave I come alive…soon as I step off the train life rushes
into me and penetrates through me. While there I am quiet, stifled and
my spirit weighed down. I pick up the vibes too easily.
No challenge and no creativity it is souless. Cannot allow my
soul to put to sleep. My spirit won’t allow this sleep, this death in life.
Can feel it as it crowds me coming from all directions…creeping, crowding,
squeezing the life out of me. Dragging at my life force – trying to obliterate me.
Under this straight conservative blue suit I wear black satin pants, a suspender belt and black stockings. Sexuality, desire, drive aches under all
this uniformity and rigidity. Wild desire sings her own song and dreams of
a soft heart and free imagination. Professional garments can only restrain
the surface of me for a short while and I must break free again.
My imagination and passion saves me from this emotional death in life.
Some people are meant to live outside the parametres of society.
The creative artist will not let what is acceptable to some, creep in and chip
away at the true free spirit that could live in us all.
But it cannot be ignored. It must be fed and protected.
Because the apathetic disease in society can seep in and rot us from the
Having just read through my two draft novels in one week (last week) I found it interesting reading this piece of prose/poetry I wrote in 1994 (15 years ago). My burning desire to write novels has been under my skin for at least 15 years :) Even though I have worked in the corporate or education workplace my entire working life my desire for artistic and self expression has always been my driving passion and the way I have survived the stress of this work-a-day world. I feel I have had to live one, two even three lives just to survive this environment.