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What I Look Like(*?)
Monday 14/4/03
Oh my god my teeth are not what I thought they were. I mean I thought they were just unsightly, but now they're talking xrays, braces, two years, thousands... fucking hell. i felt like i was in an alien lab. havent been for years. htought they'd claw my teeth out.
who the fuckl wants to be a dentist anyway?
room 101.
Monday 14/4/03
Do you know the other night I had this dream, violently vivid, that I was stuck in the hotel bathroom of this guy who had hacked up his family, and he’d drawn these stick figures in blood on the showerscreen, and there was blood in the toilet cistern. They were on the floor and stuffed in the top of the wardrobe, his kids. I have never had a dream like that before, I was absolutely horrified, I had no idea why I was dreaming like that. But it was during the week when my dad was in the hotel, so it must have just been stress.
That was weird that week, I felt mad and I didn't know who to blame.
At work. Meant to go to dental appointment now.
*
PS, unlike when i used to havenightmares, I coped really OK when I woke up from that one. Like, it was just a dream. I wasn't scared going back to sleep. My other dream, that I had later, didn't seem bad. But then again, when I reconsider, I was helping a mass murderer escape from police custody. Again, from a hotel room. But he was so nice to me.
Anyway all this was dreamt ages ago now.
I actually have assignments at last.
Saturday 12/4/03
Whole day seemed to dissapear in cake-fork buying Friday 11/4/03
I have a little bowl of yummy nuts.
Today was kinda nice in its way. Went shops with my mother. And good god, we lay-buyed this fabulously expensive Charlie Brown coat thing. And I mean coat thing. One of those things you'd do better to hate. I don't know what came over us. Amongst other things. We had these great sandwiches. Fuck that was an excellent sandwich. K was visiting tribunals for an assignment all day, and we met her for lunch, and the crumbed eggplant on this roll... it was so good it tasted like chicken. A rare delight for a veg like me. On that point, god I wanted fish the other day.
Fuck I'm highly strung. I mean the past couple of years in particular. And I'm getting this psychological fear of my rabbit's cage. It's not good. I don't get depression like in high school, it's more dramatic than that - it's like mania and hysteria.
Friday 11/4/03
Slight refractions of irritation. O fuck amok. This is the dull lovesong of the crummy crappy day.
When ae when will somebody strain the sky? When ae when ae when. Because I will leap from the backs of the pointed hills and cry.
Thursday 10/4/03
Uni was so good today. Went to anti-Nelson's review rally. Rollicked up to Town Hall in the sun and rain. Reasonably impressed with the turn out, given modern nonchalance.
Classes strangely lively, like Ancient this morning. Feel good.
Wednesday 9/4/03
Well I ran into M.S. the ANHS lecturer today. God, we accidentally had lunch together. If you think facing that guy in a tutorial is tough, try it over a muffin.
My sanity's a bit restored. The singing ear was taken to the specialist today. Unhelpful. Expensive.
Sadly Honours english still killing me. Not just cold feet here. Frostbite.
sanctimonia. sanctuary sanctuary!
I christen me Scout. Anyway the whole point of that english subject is to test our stamina, I think!
K. is away for 2 nights per week these days. hard going.
Went for Spanish with Van and the estranged F.B. last night. Interesting. Wound up a bit early. I felt some akwardness.
Here's a tirade from last week:
Neon ApocalypseOur cheeks full of dollars
Our heels of pork crackling
The right to bear arms
The right to bare legs
To bare legs/ Against a sea of troubles
We choke on what's left of the air.
OK. So much work to do. Gotta go waste my time downstairs doing the salutation how was your day thing.
Monday 7/4/03
I've got it! I've got it. This is what it's like!
You know when you get a crush on someone, and everyone else seems to dissapear, you don't see anyone else attractive, there's just this one ideal?
That's just like when an egg gets fertilised by a single sperm! It seals off so the others can't go in!
Thankfully that's not how it is with me right now. I see strange numbers of attractive fellas. They're on the increase, I'm told.
Sunday 6/4/03
Fuck America.
Fuck American aims and lies.
Fuck American acts.
Fuck Americans.
[I admit of exceptions].
!!!!!
Fuck America's WEAPONS OF MASS DEMOCRACY
[Weapons of Mass Democracy. I made that up. A while ago, actually. Fuck I'm good].
*
Speaking of shit I said once, a coupla years ago I wrote this line, and tried to squeeze it into a story, but it didn't work. So now it can stand alone, it's own 2-line lovesongpoem:
The Guillotine: You're the head left on the platform
I'm the body running still alive
Monday 31/3/03
Image:
her fluid slipping fingers had worn hollows into the keys like water on stone.
the tune held in the
bosom of the strings
unstrung, the young notes one by one
falling and unfurling like flowers, naked flowers
blowing in a breeze of beats and time
this slipping fluid tune has weathered holes into my heart.
*
Romeo's a dishclout to him.
Monday 31/3/03
Just did a red cross doornock. Scored all of $2. Kid you not. Worst ever. Other day I got $16.70. Total for the year: 18.70. And I didnt even get to perve into anyone's house much, really.
Only people who offered to scrounge around for change were some unemployed people in a scary boarding house, and I didn't let them.
Had a good dinner Sat nite with Poleboy at Captain Torres on Liverpool Street. Then drinks. Scary.
D had been staying hotel some time last week. They seem to have patched it now. Hopes.
*
Event of week one or so uni:
This old european guy had scanned my library card a thousand times over the years, but now I had a new card, and he turned it round and showed it to me, and said in his brogue, "Look, you look beautiful here." Like he was arguing against me. Instinctively I took a corner of the card between my fingers, I thought he was telling me there was something wrong with my card.
It's the only thing that guy ever said to me, that crazy little old guy.
*Love's a warm lair
The eyes are closed and we've fallen asleep
On a restless bed of nettles
On a bed of restless restless nettles
Resting and supposing that we're curled
On an eiderdown
Supposing that we're resting
(With our feet really hanging off the bedend, over the cold drop).
First version (before hastily edited):
Love is a warm lair
The eyes are closed and we fall asleep
On a restless bed of nettles
Supposing we're curled on an eiderdown
(Our feet hanging off the bed edge, over the cold drop).
Sunday 30/3/03
Been going to Cronulla a lot, still warm enough to swim.
I hate to use this for poetry, particularly what really is not very exhibitable poetry, but it’s got nowhere else to go.
Poem 891:
A white-lipped beast
A ringing in the ears
A riptorn throat
The payment of arrears
I collect a certain debt
I collect a certain debt
I cook your heart and speech forget the threat
The nearness of this searing searing fission
The nearness of this searing searing fission
This is your love, and this is your decision.
*
Adapted from Yeats, and Retitled ‘The Fat-Free Rhythm of the Why’:
The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
The song of the ever-singing wishing leaves
Had hushed away earth’s old and weary cry.
+
And then you came with those dark mournful lips
And with you came the whole of the world’s tears
And all the sorrows of her labouring ships
And all the burden of her million years.
+
And now the angry sparrows in the eaves
The withered moon, the white stars in the sky
The wearisome loud chanting of the leaves—
+
And now the warring sparrows in the caves
The withered, crumbling moon, the whitening sky
The wearisome loud chanting of the leaves
The undernourished withered crumbling sky
The brittle sky, the parched and crumbling sky…
(based on Yeats’ The Sorrow of Love, including Manuscript versions. Changes throughout).
Thursday 27/3/03
I am in some anguish over a parody of a Plutarch life about a lecturer being something potentially offensive! Oh no. Oh well. I always put my foot in it. I won't try to be funny because I'm not.
Did I mention we filled our neighbours bins with purple balloons the other night because they are so anal about their rubbish, and had order a pristine new bin?
My rabbits eye is full of infection, it is making her hate me, poor little Minka.
There is never time for anything and sanity and life all at once.
Thursday 27/3/03
My life is just a great big gaping cage of death.
Time is a march to the scaffold.
*
Written at broadway:
If there were cause to write my biography, I would call it ‘Death of a Renaissance Woman”, but in the sense of a spiritual, intellectual death rather than a literal death.
I used to be inspired by the idea of burrowing towards the dark, now I like the idea of creeping along a narrowing crevice in a rockface until all movement and all sight and all progress is bottlenecked, or else, just humping along a dim tunnel, at an even depth underground, forever, or until the rock obstacle or suffocation is reached.
Written in week one uni:
He says “You are a time bomb,” laying his head on my chest, “I can hear you ticking.”
Nobody really said that. Anyone who really said that to me, would be my soulmate.
Her dreams extend to roads and time – but not beyond, for what is there beyond roads and time?
(Roads, by which may be meant, pathways, passages)
So the universe is shrinking. So the galaxies are migrating back towards the white Mecca at their centre. (The Mecca that will not be born until they meet, the convergence finished).
If you say, I feel complete, it’s less – or different, than to say, I feel compleat.
Time is itself a road, but a coercive one, on which one cannot turn back, along which one always has the uncanny sense that one is taking the wrong way.
Beautiful trees outside this classroom window.
Tuesday 25/3/03 The War on the Home Front
Title of entry is coincidence not gimmick.
I might as well be hammering my head into a brick wall. Every time something happens for me, someone wrecks it.
Monday 24/3/03 The War
When there was trouble at the front door, they went out into their back gardens and read magazines.
Monday 24/3/03
Before the mirror:
If eyes are the window to the soul, then why can't I see the wind and rain sluicing and howling behind them?
*
Before the storm, firelight.
Sunday 23/3/03
I think one could reasonably support the proposition, that everything that is beautiful, is green.
Last night went out with J and K, went to mexican, then Brighton-Le-Sands, where a tenth floor man asked us into his room for the view. At the novotel.
I am so staggeringly beautiful.
Does that make me green?
I sometimes, I sometimes could just scream and scream. I keep thinking my teeth are falling out. I'm over it now. I'm trying to do this law reading. No, no no.
I am doing all this George Eliot this semester. I was warned off her, but I love her now.
Why don't my parents have friends?
So we won't get tied in knots, will we Dolly?
I love my name, I sound like a high class prostitute.
I think feminists are on the wrong track. What they should really be tackling is the fact that almost all men are so goddamn dogugly.
Incidentally, Marc and I now have a mutual online dialect, at www.thinkhaze.com/dialect/
Wednesday 12/3/03
This city is breathing down my neck.
Wednesday 12/3/03
Know what, I can't be bothered recording everything I've been doing, like on weekends. Back last year, if we went to the water or something, it would be this huge thing I longed to record, because I never did anything. But now, why bother saying when we went down the coast or whatever for the day, we do it all the time. Like, we went to the Robertson show on the weekend, and it seemed like in those last few days of the hols we were going through Stanwell Park about a thousand times. This isn't a bad thing at all by the way, excuse my negative tone. It's great. I can tell there's been this slight shift in how people are thinking here, probably a result of the renos, my mother being no longer glued to her chair.
*
Once someone I rated, but had no idea of their opinions on me, confided out of the blue to me after a class, as we fell into each other's pace, "You know, I have never hated so many people in a class before." Never before had such an expression of dislike seemed so warm a gesture of approval. I felt oddly touched.
*
Indigestion.
Monday 3/3/03
There's nothing just this absolute despair. There's nothing worth doing. I will fall into a hole. Thd. Everything would be too much effort.
Monday 3/3/03
Sometimes life fails you. It's like when your strength fails. Or when your fingers won't strike the right keys, like just now. Backspace backspace backspace.
I struggled to entertain myself today. Everyone was busy. I got hold of George for a wee while, but that didn't last. Retail therapy was no option.
Cannot have kids without aide.
Mustn't tell.
Cricket killing me. Canada is thrashing us. That needed not to happen. Sometimes cricket fails you.
Sunday 2/3/03
Today i was on a swing looking out to sea. Down near Wollongong. I was on the swing, and I thought, I should put on my site that I was on a swing looking out to see. Yes, it was that self-conscious.
We were down the way to Wollongong, at this pub that hangs off the road and over the water along the coast there, for lunch. They were out of most foods, but it was great sitting in the sun. I got burnt through my shirt. The bathroom there, it reminded me of some old lady's house for some reason. It was a little ramshackle. When we were leaving we looked in the kitchen and saw a young cook licking food off his healthy looking fingers.
Yesterday we went down Cronulla area and had arvo tea and a walk. We parked illegally. There was a surfer 30something getting out of his van and the backs of his upper arms and back were covered in long thick yellow white hair like spanish moss. I was repelled.
Went to visit Nell this morning, my great aunt, she was bright as a button. She is becoming mischeivous. How bizarre. She didn't hardly open her mouth for twenty years.
Friday we went to Symbio wildlife park. There were animals everywhere. A snake wrapped itself around my hips and squeezed. It could hold itself up, like a garment. it felt so good. A diamond python. I want a pig. I also held some large lizards and a snake-necked turtle. It was so cold, then it struggled. The lizard shat. It was so wonderful. So wonderful.
This sounds like an excusion report from primary schools. "And then we went." "And then we went".
I am having several stories to write in my head at once. It's too much work. Oh god, and unis creeping up on me. The Leviathan.
*
The weather turned this morning. It was cold and bright. Burnt off later, but I loved that. Needing a sweater.
Tuesday 18/2/03
Can a deconstructionist be a nihilist? Or does being a deconstructionist imply the presumption of original meaning?
There's another school. It's called running away. This giant excuse of emptiness. Meaning to be avoided, to be fled like a burning tiger.
I have a friend who wants to gather words around him so he doesn't have to reach for them. But there are words piled up around him already.
Words are cages. Words are bricks in the walls of a labrynth through which we run like rats: Language. There is no exit point, no alternate system (anymore).
Considering the artifice of it all, it?s not as often as one might expect that words fail us, that we can?t find words to express something. It?s a marvel that impulse and desire can be so conveniently translated into sounds shaped by lips according to an agreed system.
And a marvel too how much you can say with a grunt, variance of pitch, incline of the head.
Evocation is an amazing mystery, particularly those novels that are like worlds and bring you in.
Everyone knows this mystery, of course, I just thought I?d mention it, since stating the obvious with bravado is one of longest-established methods of winning praise and wonder.
Tuesday 18/2/03
That was the longest, longest day, Sunday. From rally to victory. Today renewed term deposit, ate a fairy cake, went to Glebe to deposit K, ran into a Tertullian Ancient History Lecturer, posted letters to Just Jeans and TVNZ trying to obtain advertisement featuring undressed CC, got a bus to Balmain and met up with George who arguably seemed a bit flat, but then, what can't be argued. The cafe was also a church. Went back via Italian Forum and got K giant freckles since she was home working. So hot when I got home I just stripped.
There was this great hug in that NzvsSaf match on Sunday night, I could honestly watch cricketers hug joyously for hours. Can't stop thinking about my boys. But if I really could be a fly on the wall, they'd probably just throw something at me, with pinpoint accuracy.
I wonder how many people I know wish they could swat me.
I can see how it might be tempting.
God, if someone swatted me flat, I would have a huge surface area.
Those little black mosquitoes, the neat torpedo kind, are back with their giant bites. They'd been gone for years, round here at least, I'd got used to the dangly kind. This kind is more sinister and machinelike and professional. But bites don't bother me. I don't mind being itchy.
My heart my head my heart. Still reading Daniel Deronda. If I don't get "my glad rags" soon I'll see a doctor.
This is Too Much Information, calling it a day - over and out.
Must heat lasagne.
Monday 17/2/03
Shock.
All right, a friend's log reminded me of this.
When I went out of Sydney some time last year, and then looked up, and saw the sky smothered in stars.
Why shock?
Because I had forgotten there were stars.
Now I'm much more conscious of this, different places I go, I look to see if you can see stars. Obviously (ignoring weather) the more remote, the better.
I don't know how I feel about this presence or absence of stars. Because when I saw them there, yes, they were beautiful. But they're also frightening. They frighten me. Space frightens me.
I'd like to say they're like piercings through which we can see what lies behind, or they scare me because they're like eyes, but that's not it. Or I think they're too kitsch, covering the whole sky with glitter like that - and I almost do. But that's not it. It's just a thing.
Speaking of things, here's another thing: I have glasses, I barely ever wear them, though now I have prescription sunglasses. But at night I tend to stagger around short sighted. Well the other night I saw that the moon had a face. "Oh my god," I said, "The moon has a face." My sister, or whoever I was with, said "The moon has always had a face. It's always like that." I couldn't believe it. It really had a face. I was just blind.
Well it's the same, in a way, with the stars. Because if I put my glasses on to look at them, they look smaller, brighter and almost sharp. I think I like them better without.
My eye sight is getting worse. The other night I failed to recognise a fairly good acquaintance at pretty close range. As in, we were in the same loungeroom. This was at my friend's christmas dinner last year. Now that freaked me out. Dare say it freaked her out too.
Why am I not a big man, a beautiful superhero?
*
I wish that it could all go on forever.
Monday 17/2/03
Into bed c. 4am last 'night' owing to glorious NZ victory over SAf in WC, couldn'tbelieve it. My sister and I actually decided to MAKE NZ win, by channelling positives, oddly it worked. My usual pessimism abandoned, the runs started flowing and the wickets wouldn't fall. More proof that I am god.
Right.
Rally yesterday was enough to save me from the depths of despair about this country, it was a great atmosphere and I was really surprised at the number of people who turned up. I couldnt believe the amount of support for the anti-war pressure. It was a thrill because I had been getting increasingly ashamed of being Australian. To be a citizen in a country that voted in Mr John "No Epithet or Witty Pun Could be Bad Enough" Howard is as stigmatic as being a child molester. hoWARd DICKtator. I hate you I hate you I hate you.
Feeling politically mature here. I actually do have more reasoned views on all this, but I'm not expressing them in this aprticular 'forum' and on so little sleep.
[[Post script posted 19/3/03: forgot to mention, went to see 8 mile with my cousin and his friend and K on Sat night - out late, on arriving home my mother guiltripped us into taking her to the beach at Bronte. By the time we got there it was 2 am, it was raining and the sprinklers were on.]]
Wednesday 12/2/03
Met Kate and An**s in the morning, and then Marc in the arvo. Showed him this "moonship" a little ship made out of a skull - a jawbone - I thought it was perfect but I don't think he concurred. In the Tin Sheds galleries. Then we went on this Trek towars Crown St. We stopped in at "Random Bar", "randomly" and commented on how "random" everything was. It was mod. It was Dog Dick. We had a good walkietalkie bitchin fun. We went down Foveaux St and stopped at a Thai place. We went to "town" and had scones at the QVB. We ran into one of his mates, and one of ours. Touch odd. We nearly went to the red lantern, in Surrey Hills. We also looked at a curtains and cushions shop, it was dissapointing. My mother called and asked why I was out so late. It was 6.30.
BTW, I got paid. I feel rich.
BTW again, NZ lost to Sri Lanka, but K, J and I stayed up to near 3 watching it. SOUGH SOUGH.
*
Life's like toppling dominoes you know, the minutes, the hours, the days, all stacking up on each other unstoppable and in the end you get crushed beneath it.
I am in such a good mood. If "high and dry" or "high ti" was a phrase that existed to describe a mood, that would be it. I'm too hot though. I want you all. I want you ALL. So take me now.
Hey my mum's carrying on, that's so cool. I'm so glad how she carries on like that, coz it made me who I am. God imagine if she hadn't. I might be more like a premixed than a teapot, for chrissake. You should hear her, you really should. It's so good. Last night she gives me this stripping down because my goodnight kiss was "inadequate", and my smile was artificial, she could "feel" it, 85%. It really was the best. But she couldn't be in a book, because everyone would find her character "over the top".
Don't get me wrong though, I'm just carping on. She's actually really good, for all her faults. She bought be broccoli, for example. Whearas Kate today was telling me that her mum makes her pay board. Yes, I'm so spoiled. Now take me, all of you. Get it over with.
Saturday 1/2/03
As of this morning, my mother has declared that she does not exist, and has ceased to communicate. It?s sort of fascinating, waiting to see how long she can hold out. All she does is washing, and watch the weather channel. It?s funny, because I thought not existing was an all-weather activity.
Wednesday 29/1/03
Now speaking of my mum being weird in my dreams, here was one I had the other day, following short on the egg one.
I dreamt that my family and I were ouside somewhere, in a sort of rural, rather english looking field on a grey damp day, and my mum kept telling me, and everybody who came by, what seemed to be being presented as great advice, that would come in handy to us all. She kept telling us that the best way to kill yourself would not be blaah, blaah or just hanging yourself normally from a tree, but to put the noose around your neck and step forward into a deep hole, while still looking at the view. Then it would be just like you were just stepping forward to look at the view, you wouldn?t know a thing. I think the idea was that it wouldn?t be so scary that way, since there?d be no fear of heights that way, and you wouldn?t have to look down at them, you were just peacefully stepping forward to admire the view.
I suppose the problem with this, out of a dreamscape and back in reality, is that it would be pretty fucking hard to make yourself oblivious to the fact that you were stepping into a hole, and you weren?t just stepping forward to look at a view. But she seemed to think it was a really great idea, and I didn?t say otherwise, you wouldn?t want to offend her when she was just trying to be helpful. She seemed to really want to be helpful to us all. But I don?t know that anyone was planning on killing themselves, til she brought it up.
*
My bank account is in a state of drain, and I owe money. It will be OK when work pays me, in some weeks. In the mean time, I live the povo dream. There?s going to be some outlay for the dinner party my sister and I are having on Friday night, although I suppose we could always feed our guests bangers and pocket lint.
Saturday 18/1/03 [written in an email to a friend but posted here Wed 29 Jan]
...Maybe im in a rather half dead mood today. Merely wearing my own dried out skin. The weather for one thing. It's like when you open the oven door...
My mum went and bought a thermotrer and no she is going round the house tellign everyone how hot it is in each part of the house.
Sometimes i feel so muffled or insulated, not in a good way. Itys funny though. Giod knows how many factors affect these things.
Anyway I must tell you my dream: I dreamt I laid an egg, I was on my bed in my room. I said to my mum, "look i laid an egg," i was worried, she said she was worried to when she first laid and egg, then i rememebred it was ok to lay an egg. then i laid lots of eggs all at once. i felt kind of proud because we could eat them. then when i picked them up to show her they were all just pebbles. it felt funny laying the eggs.
afterwards i was at the cricket which theyd filled with a giant red ball bigger than the stands and it was packed and inside the ball was a mall, and an announcer kept satying to avboid anyone in a white shirt as they were all teachers who had been child molesters. then my sister and i went in the mall and sort of became lift operators. then i woke up.
I hope that you reach the end of your desire, and make a clean break - if that's what you want. But desire's not like that always, it sometimes, usually, has all these messy ends, and it bobs up out of the water - even if its just one shot piece of driftwood where there use to be a great galleon.
I'd know of course, at my ripe old age.
Sunday 19/1/03
Sunday 19/1/03
New year.
All right, so I've been reduced to basically skeletal posts and bullett points. I've made an important discovery: you can't possibly hope to write oruself down. Or your life down. And even if you could, there'd never be time to read it.
I can't try to do that. Just to keep something.
Memory has to serve some purpose, after all. And I have a good memory. It's my best friend, when it's not trying to undo me. When it doesn't haunt.
So for these reasons, I'm not going to tell you about my holiday. That's what photos are for, too.
Anyway, it was good. Went to New Zealand, J joined us, there was an alarming conflict but things settle. Back at work, tired, uninspired. Following the cricket more, well, why not - it's Summer.
There's not much more to say than that. Well there is, but I won't say it. There's always something, when you remember. But don't worry about it, Doll. If you don't remember it, it's not worth remembering.
There's a Moby title, "We Are All Made of Stars". That is so beautiful true. We are, if memory serves. We're outta the big bang. We're all made of stars.
*
The other day, Adz told me I had "changed a lot". It made me paranoid. At his housewarming, others kept telling me I looked "very different". If my manner and my looks have both changed, what's stayed the same. Well - you know. You'll see.
*
Wednesday 11/12/02
On monday it was a friend's 20th birthday and several friends went over to his flat. When a person I particularly despise the company of arrived, another friend and I went to a nearby Portugese cake shop. I bought two of what I hoped would be Pure biscuits. They looked so white, so purely moonlike. You would think moon monks could eat them without penitence. But alas, they were revealed to contain imPurities.
The other day I bought a birthday card that said "To a special grandaughter" and inside it adressed itself to "snuggly little cuddle bunny". Anyway the picture was really cute. I bought a frame for it too, all this getting a bit odd since it said 'grandaughter' and I had gotit for myself, my grandmother being dead. But my mother said, "But just pretend that I bought it for you on her behalf, because she wouldn't have wanted you not to have it, just because she was dead." *
It is so so windy outside, and yesterday the drought broke and it pissed down.
Wednesday 11/12/02
Exam results, or intimations of them, slowly come crawling back. I could not believe that after the law exam (where I was continually interrupted by the examienr for a number of reasons, such as my lack of student card and her confusion of me with another student) as well as sheer (I had thought) underperformance in the exam, I was still given a HD. Sadly this lowers my fellow students somewhat in my view hahahaha. I am buying myself a pedestal this afternoon, marked 'modesty'. Or better still 'humble pig'.
At this law do the other night (I told a friend I'd post this here so I shall) I was talking to someone's boyfriend and he said "you know I can pick when someone's attracted to someone else. see that guy over there for example. he's talking to that girl, but he's really stuck on that girl." And he pointed to another girl somewhat across the room. "Yes," I smiled, though secretly unconvinced, "While the girl he's talking to, she is clearly stuck on him, poor thing. Little does she know". He said, "Yeah!" although I doubt he was convinced - I sure as hell wasn't. Then I said, "You can always tell when a girl is attracted to someone they're talking to, because they do this." And demonstratively, I lent around a little and gazed up wide-eyed at Mr Someone's Boyfriend, then returned to normal. After a pause, he said, "Could you do that again?" I laughed, and said, "What, this?" and did it again, doubting I would recapture whatever had interested him. He said, "Yeah," then added, "It's just that your eyes are so white. The whites all around."
Tuesday 19/11/02
True rational maxim: having is better than wanting.
Just over a week since exams finished. Mmm shell shock. Looking into this gaping stretch of time ahead, free time, god. I know I won't manage to make anything of it, year in year out. There's something about being idle - it deadens my imagination. I have been writing actually. I was writing during the exam period, I found this protagonist who helped me write. And I was writing some fanfiction this past few days, too lame to go into.
Went out with some friends for dinner last night, my friend with an eating disorder looking truly appalling and really extremely worrying. But a good time. Been going out a lot actually and doublebooking. Quite not myself.
The Western suburbs are burning, and as usual it troubles my sister more than me. It's all burned before, there's no heritage left to destroy in that national park, they're right to make property the main concern. Power was so taxed yesterday that the lights kept flickering.
Ancient History journal was finished and I did mailouts on Monday. Of his own volition celebrated equivocating lecturer sought for me to be able to do his course next year. Flattered.
Did I mention exams? I botched them, more than ever. It'll all work out. I botch with glee.
We're going to NZ, and a friend of mine joining us at end. I don't care where we go, just to get away, can't wait.
It is disgusting and shameful to be a citizen of this revolting nation. Statehood has infected what should be an astounding immense landscape with a disfiguring disease. It is impossible not to be political in the face of such a disgusting mess, I'm sorry.
"Opposition leader" is a contradiction in terms.
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