Monthly Archives: May 2012

Having just woke up (5 minutes ago, I am still in bed), my immediate thoughts centred upon how I have to stop eating wheat, wondering what I would eat instead and how hungry I would be, and whether or not I was getting a cold. All this took place in about 5 seconds. I then reflected on this, and realised that if I were to keep on living successfully in the world, I would have to wake up thinking about better, richer, more meaningful thoughts than this. Not one thought was connected to another human being. Thinking about wheat, and how to avoid it, won’t keep me alive on my deathbed. Or perhaps it will.

Bu then I immediately checked my emails on my iphone and my friend had sent me a funny video. This was ok. It was a group email. A little boy was being played Nirvana as he slept in the backseat, and he wakes up playing air drums. It was quite cute I suppose. Youtube has been fully mined by me and my friends, and there’s little to see except the strange/wrong videos. So well done to him for finding new content.

At present, the magpies are singing outside, and the highway is busy. I can tell it’s grey, eventhough the curtains are closed. I must cross the highway and go to the shops over the road to buy vegetables for my breakfast. It’s been raining, and the washing is on the line. It won’t dry today. The house is very quiet. The others will be out, doing Pump classes or at work. I just heard the cat bells jingle from my bed. He probably hasn’t been fed his dry breakfast yet.

The gradual death of my attention span has meant I can’t read my recently purchased book, “The Secret Life of the Grown up Brain”. It really is a secret life, and will probably remain so, as far as I am concerned.

What a day, so far!



Friends who steal things

Friends who don’t work

Friends, friends, there are no friends

Friends who think you’re an idiot to work

Friends who scab off their friends

Friends who talk endlessly about their lives

Friends who never tell you what they really think

Friends who love to be around

Friends who need you when they are lonely

Friends who forget you when they are happy

Friends who answer your texts sometimes

Friends who mostly ignore your texts

Friends who study at uni

Friends who work in call centres

Friends who can’t decide where their lives are going

Friends who are in love with people who don’t love them

Friends who are rejected

Friends who like strange music

Friends who think I’m boring

Friends who like the pub

Friends who need to bitch about each other

Friends who like a drama

Friends who love their animals

Friends who want to watch TV instead

Friends who can’t always be bothered

Friends who disappear

Friends who reappear

They are all my friends. 



The small and fragile mind.

Not infinite, as one would wish.

Reading these poems

I am struck by how limited they are

My trite observations

All my poems really start to sound the same as each other

My limitations as a human

Are the limitations of my work.

Well, we always aim for greatness

But usually fall short.

I’m certainly no different there.

Today at work I did personal emails for 1.5 hours.

No one even busted me.

I can type very fast now.

Thought about emails unsent.

How the medium of email is shit

But the medium of spoken word worse

Managed to learn to use Microsoft Outlook

Even stick a flag on the occasional email

My status in the world is changing, shifting

Slightly upwards

What with the weight gain.

And being able to afford nice meals.


For every positive, there’s a negative.

The Bitching Hour 

It’s dead on midnight

Here in bed


And Honestly

Thank fuck.

Feeling the accumulating layers of fat on my stomach


With the bedroom door shut.

At this juncture in time

I am perfectly content.

There are no others around for me to be pained by

No strained attempts to connect and be understood –

I can’t stand people.

So now you know.

Leave me alone, if you care.

And in this bitching hour

I am finally relinquished of all the needy souls

Who take up the day

With their constant demands, agendas and crap

Daily, I endure non-specific events that fail

To stick or stand out in memory

Days, weeks and years that may as well never have occurred.

Today, and what it consists of: emails and calls and texts and door knocks, housemates needing something,

Responding to trivial duties,

Other tasks requiring completion.

Burn my CDs,

Yes, take my nailpolish and money.

And I am forced to meet the dullards I encounter at their level

Their feeble mental level determined by a dull world

Parameters defined by their limited and boring natures.

And I am required to communicate

Cajole, manipulate, charm and persuade

And ultimately convince them of something or another

Basically that I care and understand.

I must survive in a hostile environment

And listen and attempt to care

About their lives

For Fucks sake

Is this what life is all about?

Nobody told me when I was a child.

Workplace Relations


I think it was a Tuesday

When we were at the café having coffee in our lunchbreak

Me and all the office ladies

I happened to mention that I was an artist,

And one of them said ‘Oh I just love the way she says that.’

And they all giggled amongst themselves.

I said ‘My days at this hole are numbered’

(And I still mean it,)

And they all just kept laughing.

I have never seen them all laugh so much at me

Or so meanly, and really enjoy it

And all get along like a house on fire.

And not one of them could actually look me in the eye.


And as for you, my little male co-worker,

You may dislike confessional art,

But I hate a disengaged

Pop-culture hating

Philistine snob

Pretending to have a clue.

What are you looking at?

What are you really looking at?

My attempt at Big Art and my own personal nightmare. A Pink Modular Staircase containing videos on monitors with a concrete lamb, and a plastic owl from Bunnings.

It’s now in the basement in pieces, warping. I look at it and remember the trauma of the install. I thought I was going to do a Serra and accidently kill someone with it. It remains an albatross around my neck.

The idea came to me at work one day, in the office, doodling on a piece of paper, as these things do. It was constructed in a barn in Bacchus Marsh by a man. The birds lived inside it. There is swallow shit and caked-on straw all over the wooden beams inside. I left it in there for the show. It’s all still there, just mouldering in the basement years on. Its a wonder it didn’t get burned down in the bushfires of 2009. In many ways, this would have been preferable.

A month long live performance!

Basically, I sat in bed in the gallery for a month and typed shit on my laptop nonstop and it got dataprojected above my head. I did not talk. I only talked via typing.

I typed whatever I wanted. The audience were requested not to talk to me, via a poster. I told fortunes and guessed people’s clothing brands. All via typing and making snap judgments.

It was hard to look audience members in the eye.

Mars Bars were left on a seat for people. Unbeknownst to them, they were purchased by me from the Reject Shop.

They sat in the dark and watched while I typed.

Thanks to an article in the Adelaide Advisor, I got a stalker. A man from Bowden. He tried to get into bed with me, on two different occasions. I finally broke, and told him to go away, using my real voice.

I now have about 400 pages of word document typing from this performance. It’s drivel. Alot of it is personal drivel though, as it’s much easier to be open with complete strangers.

I thought I might print it out and vaccuum seal it and turn it into a footstool.

This performance was bought to you by Doogie Howser, MD.

AEAF Catalogue Anastasia Klose

I left a blank book at the front of the gallery so people could write their responses to the performance. This turned out to be an inspired move, as many people wrote in the book. They needed a right-of-reply after being blathered at in silence by me.

Audience Feedback

-My Mom gave me this notepad for xmas. She wants me to be positive. I’m a natural born cynic. I appreciate what you’re doing. No one else has done it. It is a beautiful concept, and I wish I was sober and could stay to read every word you write. Alas I am among the night devil that calls my name. You inspire me. Thank you. Don’t stop. Mollie from New Orleans. PS I look forward to more of your work. I will google you ha ha. But seriously THANK YOU.

-I hope you were joking about Satellite of Love sucking, it’s my favourite song of all time. Harriet. 

-I hate jazz too.

-Weird Unit!

-I came here after the physio (stress), and this has been an additional release. As for being wrong, we’re in this together I think.

– Happiness is knowing you are right, don’t you think? Katherine.

-I loved what you wrote. About your Mum. Lynne. 

– Why are you using a Mac? Macs suck arse, Lol.

– Get out of bed and do something with your life.

-Hello. What a strange experience. I felt all kind of things I wanted to say 2 u. It was like being in an ad. Thanku 4 the experience. Remember to breathe.

-(2nd page of letter. I’ve lost the first)….We only have now. You are living now. Sorry if I’m ranting. But my mom taught me to live for NOW! Trisha from Canada.

Drawing Thoughts

I draw when I feel something, some sort of emotion. If I am not sure what I am feeling, and if I can’t define it, everything in the drawing turns murky, and it fails. I usually don’t draw when I feel nothing. If I do, it’s a disaster. Feelings, for me, are attached to images, memories, to a certain sensibility, and to particular colours. The stronger the feeling, the stronger the content of the drawing. I like drawing, it’s a simple, humble, and honest medium.
The drawings below are from 2010

Satan’s Church drawing

I saw the film Anti-Christ, by Lars Von Trier, and really liked the imagery of the forest, and the strange animals. I was interested in the idea of nature being evil, and beautiful landscapes being places where very bad things happen, and alot of suffering takes place. I just thought I would make a drawing about this idea, although it’s probably not apparent in the drawing.

So Sad drawing

With So Sad, I made a drawing about sadness. That claustrophobic sort of sadness where one feels oppressed by the world. When I was doing the drawing, I thought alot about that depressed sort of sadness, and how cheesy/corny it is to do a drawing about it, how lame and how teenage. And that’s why the drawing looks pathetic too, and badly drawn.

Something to Live For drawing
 A hopeful drawing with beautiful colours. It is quite joyful, and made in a joyful mood. It is a simple drawing about love and feeling optimistic. I like cats, they are a constant companion and I often draw them.