Yo!
Cortina were great, of course. But you knew that already, cos you were there. Sorry, I wasn’t wearing a dress so we could rendezvous. I wasn’t in a hugely social mood anyhoo.
So, this guy’s been telling me shit about how I have issues and I’m callous and everything’s always about me (it is), but you know what? Fuck it. Who gives a shit? I mean everyone has issues.
Katie said to me once “Everybody’s fucked”. It broke my heart at the time. Like she’d given up on the entire human race, including me.
And Nikhol used to say, “Nobody owes anybody anything”. I like reminding myself of this.
But last week I was surprised to be feeling romantic. It was completely unexpected.
Romance is great, but it is a game. It’s a suspension of reality. Cos in reality everybody is fucked and nobody owes anybody anything, but sometimes it nice to pretend that people are good all the way through and will always look out for you. And what happened to all the grand gestures? What happened to the boys who would tap on my window in the middle of the night and give me whiskey soaked kisses and lead me half-asleep up volcanoes to curl up under the trees? I guess I grew up. Now boys just tell me how they’d really like to fuck me, but don’t want a relationship with me.
Yawn.
I can’t be bothered with anyone who thinks the bad stuff is not worth all the good stuff. Because it so is.
I’ve now been officially single for six years. And finally I’m starting to get bored with the whole thing.
Went to an opening at Enjoy tonight. I saw Fluffy Bunny. It was real good to see her. She filled me in on some London gossip. Everyone’s pregnant.
I was talking to Stephen who said that I was an idealist. After some discussion he said, “You’re a pragmatist”. I said, “I’m glad we’ve got my label sorted out.”
I can’t decide if I am a hopeless romantic or a cynic. Probably the former.
Later.
Listening to:
Cortina: Control Freaks Rule the World - Really fucking good. Although Bek’s added the line “dontcha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me” to my favourite song. She does it in a death metal growl though, so I can almost forgive her.
Sleep: Jerusalem - I’ve only listened to it once, but isn’t it, like, one hour-long song?
Pavement: Brighten the Corners – good to sing first thing in the morning (so long as the flattie isn’t around). “Walk with your credit card in the air!"
Monday, December 12, 2005
Monday, December 05, 2005
Cortina Rulz
Dudes
Cortina are having their album release party at Indigo this Saturday (the 10th). You gotta go.
I’ll be the girl in the dress, if you wanna say hi. Not sure which dress – I bought 5 on Friday. 5 for $132. That’s an average of $26.40 per dress don’t you know. Fucking bargain.
I got way too drunk in the weekend and did things that I couldn’t remember, again, and woke up with injuries that I couldn’t remember getting, again. Luckily Stephen was there to let me know what a munter I’d been.
Good lord. Sometimes I think I’m too old for this kinda shit and then I just go out and do it all again. I guess its better than when I’m sober and I think about seducing the young guy stacking shelves at the Lower Hutt Countdown. Getting drunk is a much healthier diversion in comparison.
Long live the Cougar.
Rock on.
Listening to Bloc Party: Silent Alarm Remixed (its got that version of Helicopter on it), Blondie: Eat to the Beat, Blondie: No Exit, Blondie: The Curse of Blondie, LCD Soundsystem, Echo and the Bunnymen: Ballyhoo, PJ Harvey: Rid of Me (and singing along badly), Belle and Sebastian: Push Barman to Open Old Wounds, Fleetwood Mac: Rumors, Grace Jones: Island Life, Iggy: The Idiot, Le Tigre: Feminist Sweepstakes
Cortina are having their album release party at Indigo this Saturday (the 10th). You gotta go.
I’ll be the girl in the dress, if you wanna say hi. Not sure which dress – I bought 5 on Friday. 5 for $132. That’s an average of $26.40 per dress don’t you know. Fucking bargain.
I got way too drunk in the weekend and did things that I couldn’t remember, again, and woke up with injuries that I couldn’t remember getting, again. Luckily Stephen was there to let me know what a munter I’d been.
Good lord. Sometimes I think I’m too old for this kinda shit and then I just go out and do it all again. I guess its better than when I’m sober and I think about seducing the young guy stacking shelves at the Lower Hutt Countdown. Getting drunk is a much healthier diversion in comparison.
Long live the Cougar.
Rock on.
Listening to Bloc Party: Silent Alarm Remixed (its got that version of Helicopter on it), Blondie: Eat to the Beat, Blondie: No Exit, Blondie: The Curse of Blondie, LCD Soundsystem, Echo and the Bunnymen: Ballyhoo, PJ Harvey: Rid of Me (and singing along badly), Belle and Sebastian: Push Barman to Open Old Wounds, Fleetwood Mac: Rumors, Grace Jones: Island Life, Iggy: The Idiot, Le Tigre: Feminist Sweepstakes
Thursday, November 10, 2005
I Love Wynne Greenwood
Hi
I wore my cowboy boots to work today.
Yesterday, as I was driving home, I felt sadness welling up in me and I knew if I let it it would flood out of me and soon I would be drowning in sadness. And I thought: what's the point of drowning in sadness when there is the business of living to be done?
I got home and D wasn't there again. And Miko was still out. But waiting in the letterbox for me was a parcel from the states. It was Tracy + the Plastics "Culture for Pigeon". I watched the dvd and felt much better. I listened to the cd and felt that all was right.
Wynne's voice is developing into something quite amazing. But that's always why I loved her. I saw her play in Portland with W.I.T., Chicks On Speed and Peaches. She was far and away the greatest thing. I gazed at her wondering how a voice so huge could be channelled through a girl. I decided it was due to the girl she was.
For school last semester I did a self-portrait of myself as Wynne. It’s hanging in our hallway and people look at it and say: That's an amazing photo of you. I think this is odd because the pose is so unnatural for me. I don't think of it as a self-portrait.
The night I saw Tracy + the Plastics play I went to an Ethiopian restaurant with My Sweet Little Cowgirl Whore and two of her friends. All lesbians. Everyone I met in Portland was a lesbian. We parked the truck - all lesbians in the states drive trucks - and had a smoke. I drank from the fountain, which would mean I would never leave Portland - and I really thought I never would, except that later in the dog-shit backyard I decided to be responsible. (Why??)
The gig was in this gorgeous old movie theatre. "There's a lot of hair fashion tonight,” said a fag I was with. And there was. "All the cool kids are out tonight" said a dyke I was with. And they were.
Laters.
Been listening to:
Tracy + the Plastics - Culture for Pigeon. Oh yes.
Bloc Party - Silent Alarm. Beautiful. Much more delicate and beautiful than I thought it would be. But that version of 'Helicopter' that they play on Active isn't on it. I'll have to buy the single.
Julie Ruin - Julie Ruin. AKA Kathleen Hanna, AKA my hero. Choice.
Music like this encourages me to make music in my bedroom.
And no, I'm not talking about sex. The other day Dave asked me how long it had been and I figured out it’s been a year! Ha ha!
I wore my cowboy boots to work today.
Yesterday, as I was driving home, I felt sadness welling up in me and I knew if I let it it would flood out of me and soon I would be drowning in sadness. And I thought: what's the point of drowning in sadness when there is the business of living to be done?
I got home and D wasn't there again. And Miko was still out. But waiting in the letterbox for me was a parcel from the states. It was Tracy + the Plastics "Culture for Pigeon". I watched the dvd and felt much better. I listened to the cd and felt that all was right.
Wynne's voice is developing into something quite amazing. But that's always why I loved her. I saw her play in Portland with W.I.T., Chicks On Speed and Peaches. She was far and away the greatest thing. I gazed at her wondering how a voice so huge could be channelled through a girl. I decided it was due to the girl she was.
For school last semester I did a self-portrait of myself as Wynne. It’s hanging in our hallway and people look at it and say: That's an amazing photo of you. I think this is odd because the pose is so unnatural for me. I don't think of it as a self-portrait.
The night I saw Tracy + the Plastics play I went to an Ethiopian restaurant with My Sweet Little Cowgirl Whore and two of her friends. All lesbians. Everyone I met in Portland was a lesbian. We parked the truck - all lesbians in the states drive trucks - and had a smoke. I drank from the fountain, which would mean I would never leave Portland - and I really thought I never would, except that later in the dog-shit backyard I decided to be responsible. (Why??)
The gig was in this gorgeous old movie theatre. "There's a lot of hair fashion tonight,” said a fag I was with. And there was. "All the cool kids are out tonight" said a dyke I was with. And they were.
Laters.
Been listening to:
Tracy + the Plastics - Culture for Pigeon. Oh yes.
Bloc Party - Silent Alarm. Beautiful. Much more delicate and beautiful than I thought it would be. But that version of 'Helicopter' that they play on Active isn't on it. I'll have to buy the single.
Julie Ruin - Julie Ruin. AKA Kathleen Hanna, AKA my hero. Choice.
Music like this encourages me to make music in my bedroom.
And no, I'm not talking about sex. The other day Dave asked me how long it had been and I figured out it’s been a year! Ha ha!
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Pirate Gypsy Whore
Hi
What’s been going on?
I’ve been waking at 6am; showering; meditating; drinking coffee in my car as I drive to town; walking from my car to work; working and trying to deal with the bullshit; eating takeaways for lunch and dinner; walking to school; working in the darkroom; eating from the vending machine; walking back to my car; driving home, singing loudly; saying hello to Miko and D; going to bed and falling asleep almost instantly.
It’s been quite full on. Haven’t had time for anything else including saying hello to you.
The New Orleans thing is completely fucked up is it not? I can’t believe that they are still not dealing with the bodies. There seems to be no over leader to make sure everything gets done. Instead there is an abundance of bureaucracy with “areas of responsibility”, which unfortunately don’t cover the whole thing.
The one person I know in New Orleans is ok. She evacuated. I don’t actually know her, but I have been reading her online diary for about 5 or 6 years now. Her name is Siobhan and she is a very good writer. Very good. You want some great writing? Read her site.
Last weekend I dressed up as a pirate gypsy whore and went on a cruise ship for dinner and drinks. Was tres great. I was being stroppy drunk girl and almost got into a fistfight. Damn Irish genes. Then I stumbled through town to 101 where I saw the wonderful Lady Luck and Charlie Ash while I danced on the couch. Met a guy at the bar. Can’t remember his name, but he was real nice. His friend asked “Are you in fancy dress?” He said “Oh my god, that’s a big call. I wouldn’t have asked that.” Luckily I was. The Pirate Gypsy Whore look seems to be a hit with the fellas. Had a lot of guys chatting me up etc. None really grabbed my fancy but I amused myself by noticing the way they act when they’re attracted to you.
Didn’t go out this weekend as I was too busy/tired from working in the darkroom. My assignment is almost done. It’s due on Thursday.
Today was good. I had a nap in the sun and listened to music and finished unpacking (finally) and re-arranged the study and made beef and couscous for dins. I’m gonna figure out what I need to do this week, have a yoga session – its been a long time, then watch CSI Miami with a beer or two.
Have a good night.
Laters
S
What’s been going on?
I’ve been waking at 6am; showering; meditating; drinking coffee in my car as I drive to town; walking from my car to work; working and trying to deal with the bullshit; eating takeaways for lunch and dinner; walking to school; working in the darkroom; eating from the vending machine; walking back to my car; driving home, singing loudly; saying hello to Miko and D; going to bed and falling asleep almost instantly.
It’s been quite full on. Haven’t had time for anything else including saying hello to you.
The New Orleans thing is completely fucked up is it not? I can’t believe that they are still not dealing with the bodies. There seems to be no over leader to make sure everything gets done. Instead there is an abundance of bureaucracy with “areas of responsibility”, which unfortunately don’t cover the whole thing.
The one person I know in New Orleans is ok. She evacuated. I don’t actually know her, but I have been reading her online diary for about 5 or 6 years now. Her name is Siobhan and she is a very good writer. Very good. You want some great writing? Read her site.
Last weekend I dressed up as a pirate gypsy whore and went on a cruise ship for dinner and drinks. Was tres great. I was being stroppy drunk girl and almost got into a fistfight. Damn Irish genes. Then I stumbled through town to 101 where I saw the wonderful Lady Luck and Charlie Ash while I danced on the couch. Met a guy at the bar. Can’t remember his name, but he was real nice. His friend asked “Are you in fancy dress?” He said “Oh my god, that’s a big call. I wouldn’t have asked that.” Luckily I was. The Pirate Gypsy Whore look seems to be a hit with the fellas. Had a lot of guys chatting me up etc. None really grabbed my fancy but I amused myself by noticing the way they act when they’re attracted to you.
Didn’t go out this weekend as I was too busy/tired from working in the darkroom. My assignment is almost done. It’s due on Thursday.
Today was good. I had a nap in the sun and listened to music and finished unpacking (finally) and re-arranged the study and made beef and couscous for dins. I’m gonna figure out what I need to do this week, have a yoga session – its been a long time, then watch CSI Miami with a beer or two.
Have a good night.
Laters
S
Monday, August 22, 2005
Dizzy
Hi
How’s it all going?
I’m feeling a bit sick. Blah.
I had a zero-social life weekend, but did achieve stuff. I shot a black & white film, developed it and did a contact sheet. I put in a cat door which was pretty exciting cos it was the first time I’ve used a jigsaw. Made roast sweet potato and rosemary chicken. Very fucking delish. Had it with a nice pinot gris. D is exceeding pleased that I am improving my culinary skills and she gets to try it all. She asked “Why are you single?” Established phase 2 of D’s career plan for me. Danced around the house singing loudly and, according to Miko, badly. Had my last little smoke while watching the Nirvana dvd “with the lights out”. Did some maintenance, schoolwork, paperwork, all that sorta stuff. Oh and I did something too geeky to mention. I’m quite happy when I am being a geek.
I felt dizzy all weekend and I had a few nightmares, one of which reminded me of the time I spent at a pedophile’s house. That sounds a lot worse than it was, although it was rather yukky.
Hil is currently in the jungle in Malaysia or somewhere like that. Sounds fucking awesome.
I wanna go to China.
I’m off to watch Futurama – you should too. Laughing is good for you.
Laters.
Music of late:
Grace Jones: Island Life – I’m getting tired of looking, wasting all my cooking.
David Bowie: Scary Monsters – when I was a kid I had a little replica of this album with a bubblegum record inside. When I finally ate the record it was all floury and crap.
Queens of the Stone Age: Lullabies to Paralyze
Eagles of Death Metal: Peace Love Death Metal
Peaches: The Teaches of Peaches
Patti Smith: Trampin
Sonic Youth: Dirty – I’ve been around the world a million times and all you men are slime.
Neil Young: Harvest – my stepfather used to always sing “Old man lying in the road with his guts hanging out of his stomach.”
Neil Young: Rust Never Sleeps
Kim Carnes: Mistaken Identity – I was trying to identify why I like this album. I decided its cos it reminds me of my mother, drunk and playing air-guitar – which is never a bad thing. In fact it’s a fucking hilarious thing.
How’s it all going?
I’m feeling a bit sick. Blah.
I had a zero-social life weekend, but did achieve stuff. I shot a black & white film, developed it and did a contact sheet. I put in a cat door which was pretty exciting cos it was the first time I’ve used a jigsaw. Made roast sweet potato and rosemary chicken. Very fucking delish. Had it with a nice pinot gris. D is exceeding pleased that I am improving my culinary skills and she gets to try it all. She asked “Why are you single?” Established phase 2 of D’s career plan for me. Danced around the house singing loudly and, according to Miko, badly. Had my last little smoke while watching the Nirvana dvd “with the lights out”. Did some maintenance, schoolwork, paperwork, all that sorta stuff. Oh and I did something too geeky to mention. I’m quite happy when I am being a geek.
I felt dizzy all weekend and I had a few nightmares, one of which reminded me of the time I spent at a pedophile’s house. That sounds a lot worse than it was, although it was rather yukky.
Hil is currently in the jungle in Malaysia or somewhere like that. Sounds fucking awesome.
I wanna go to China.
I’m off to watch Futurama – you should too. Laughing is good for you.
Laters.
Music of late:
Grace Jones: Island Life – I’m getting tired of looking, wasting all my cooking.
David Bowie: Scary Monsters – when I was a kid I had a little replica of this album with a bubblegum record inside. When I finally ate the record it was all floury and crap.
Queens of the Stone Age: Lullabies to Paralyze
Eagles of Death Metal: Peace Love Death Metal
Peaches: The Teaches of Peaches
Patti Smith: Trampin
Sonic Youth: Dirty – I’ve been around the world a million times and all you men are slime.
Neil Young: Harvest – my stepfather used to always sing “Old man lying in the road with his guts hanging out of his stomach.”
Neil Young: Rust Never Sleeps
Kim Carnes: Mistaken Identity – I was trying to identify why I like this album. I decided its cos it reminds me of my mother, drunk and playing air-guitar – which is never a bad thing. In fact it’s a fucking hilarious thing.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
If you build it, he will come
Hi
So I completed step 1 of D’s career plan. It went well. I can’t wait to talk to her to determine step 2, but she’s away for a few days. There was some very interesting work news today also, which has restored my faith in miracles, or good luck at least.
Miko is very interested in my cursor.
Today I printed a contact sheet for the film I developed on Tuesday. It’s the first time I’ve been in the darkroom in 14 years! Its like riding a bike, I remembered how to do it all. It’s funny to be pottering around in the darkroom again. During my 6th and 7th form years I only attended homeroom, classics and I spent the rest of the day in the dark room, or sitting on Tash’s floor listening to music.
Tash introduced me to good music. For that I am eternally grateful.
Speaking of which, I’ve been listening to Lullabies to Paralyze all day today. I am loving “I Never Came” and “Skin on Skin”. The latter gets me horny. Not that it takes much, but having Josh Homme sing about his love of cunnilingus certainly does the trick. He’s pretty hot for a ginger.
Spanna sent me a letter on Barbie paper. She’s coming home. Yay!!
I told D I was thinking of adding fake tan to my list of maintenance. She said “Bring it into play! If you build it, he will come.” I doubt the baseball diamond of my body will be attracting any players any time soon. Since I last told you about my list of maintenance I have performed half a pedicure (trimmed my toenails, essentially) and shaved one leg. I got bored so I have yet to shave the other. Being girly doesn’t exactly thrill me.
Being a girl however, that’s pretty darn exciting. Multiple orgasms anyone?
Sorry for being so obsessed with sex, it’s just that I’m not getting any. I don’t talk about it much when I am an active participant, except to the party involved, of course.
I’m as tired as a fatherfucker so I might crawl into bed. The house is a mess but I can be a slob cos D’s away.
Nighty night.
Music du jour:
Queens of the Stone Age: Lullabies to Paralyze
So I completed step 1 of D’s career plan. It went well. I can’t wait to talk to her to determine step 2, but she’s away for a few days. There was some very interesting work news today also, which has restored my faith in miracles, or good luck at least.
Miko is very interested in my cursor.
Today I printed a contact sheet for the film I developed on Tuesday. It’s the first time I’ve been in the darkroom in 14 years! Its like riding a bike, I remembered how to do it all. It’s funny to be pottering around in the darkroom again. During my 6th and 7th form years I only attended homeroom, classics and I spent the rest of the day in the dark room, or sitting on Tash’s floor listening to music.
Tash introduced me to good music. For that I am eternally grateful.
Speaking of which, I’ve been listening to Lullabies to Paralyze all day today. I am loving “I Never Came” and “Skin on Skin”. The latter gets me horny. Not that it takes much, but having Josh Homme sing about his love of cunnilingus certainly does the trick. He’s pretty hot for a ginger.
Spanna sent me a letter on Barbie paper. She’s coming home. Yay!!
I told D I was thinking of adding fake tan to my list of maintenance. She said “Bring it into play! If you build it, he will come.” I doubt the baseball diamond of my body will be attracting any players any time soon. Since I last told you about my list of maintenance I have performed half a pedicure (trimmed my toenails, essentially) and shaved one leg. I got bored so I have yet to shave the other. Being girly doesn’t exactly thrill me.
Being a girl however, that’s pretty darn exciting. Multiple orgasms anyone?
Sorry for being so obsessed with sex, it’s just that I’m not getting any. I don’t talk about it much when I am an active participant, except to the party involved, of course.
I’m as tired as a fatherfucker so I might crawl into bed. The house is a mess but I can be a slob cos D’s away.
Nighty night.
Music du jour:
Queens of the Stone Age: Lullabies to Paralyze
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Time After Time
Hi
I tried to post this at work, but I use too many swear words and it won’t let me. So I am at home on D’s flash laptop with the remote internet connection thingy which is super cool. D says that if I had a voiceover I would be Carrie Bradshaw.
The mercury retrograde is over – praise fuck! Very icky times those are.
I’ve been thinking about time lately. I always thought of time as quite an abstract concept, very fickle and subjective, but then it was pointed out to me that clocks measure time. Which I knew of course, but never grasped that this then means that time exists in objective reality. If clocks measure time, then time must have some kind of relationship with physics, due to clocks being mechanical and all. One second equals gravity causing the pendulum to swing from here to here. I don’t really get that and I’m not sure I want to. I think time exists because humans need to experience reality in a linear fashion, or our brains will hurt trying to comprehend the simultaneous nature of existence. Which I have done on occasion, but luckily can’t sustain. If I could sustain it I’d be an airy-fairy hippy like the space cadet I used to be. Time exists for humans and I doubt that other creatures experience it in the same way we do. Just taking the creatures on this planet for example – I’m sure a fly’s three days seem like a lifetime, and I’m sure a big oak’s lifetime doesn’t seem particularly long. You can tell this because trees have this long-term perspective on things, which you’d know if you’d ever, like me, gotten high using drugs or meditation and had a chat to them. They are funny. It takes them a minute to realise that you are the one talking ‘tree’.
The first love of my life liked time, as in the time zones and calendar and 24 hour clock. He liked it cos it’s the one thing we all agree on.
You may have noticed something in that above paragraph. 10 points if you did. I said that I have had occasions of experiencing the simultaneous nature of existence, but did not sustain it. You may be thinking I’m full of shit and want me to explain myself. I am full of shit, of course, but I am also full of truth.
I digress – it is of course a paradox to talk about sustaining something when talking about experiencing the simultaneous-ness of existence. Just as it’s bullshit for me to talk about not sustaining this state when this state did in fact occur out of time. But to avoid long-winded and potentially ineffectual explanations such as these, I will let things like this slide from time to time.
Which is why I will not try to explain to you what I mean by something occurring “out of time”. I’ll just assume you’ve had similar experiences and if not you probably are bored shitless by this so we’ll leave it there.
By the way, I’m ok. Thanks for asking. How are you? Did you get that thing you wanted?
Laters.
Music du jour:
Cyndi Lauper: She’s So Unusual – the first album I ever bought! And still a goodie. ‘When you were mine’, ‘Witness’, ‘I’ll kiss you’ – gorgeous!
I was thinking about ‘She Bop’, cos you know it got banned from US radio after somebody figured out that it was about wanking. Is masturbation really such a contentious issue, or was it because it’s female masturbation? After all, in the 80’s you only enjoyed sex if you were a slut.
Once a song is banned is it always banned? I haven’t heard that song on the radio or seen the video since those few golden weeks when the US radio people still thought it was about dancing.
So how come Billy Idol’s ‘Dancing With Myself’ never got banned? Cos it’s boy-wanking? Does that make it okay? Guys seem to be forgiven for being animals more than girls are. That statement is not intended to use the word ‘animal’ in a derogatory way, just as an acknowledgement that we are indeed animals. Animals with complex social behaviours, but animals none the less. Guys scratch their balls in public, piss in public, burp and fart and throw tantrums in public and most people look the other way. I like to stare at guys who piss on the street like dogs and try to get a look at their dick so they’ll feel a bit more insecure about it in the future. Or at least be a bit more aware of what they are doing. Guys who piss in the toilet without shutting the door really fuck me off! There are unisex toilets at school and a guy did that yesterday. I was gonna say something to him but instead I paused outside his cubicle and gave him the evils. I hate unisex loos.
I burp and fart in public, using some (not very high) level of decorum. But I do not scratch my twat or tits, now matter how itchy they get. And I don’t piss in public. You have to expose your whole arse when you are a girl, so the logistics are a lot more challenging.
Speaking of burping, it turns out that D, my new flattie, is a burp nazi. Every time I burp she says “Ms Brown!” in the tone of a stern intermediate school teacher. I told her to give it up, as burping is one of my simple pleasures in life. She said that telling people not to is one of her simple pleasures – which it isn’t, by definition of a simple pleasure being something which is pleasing to the senses. It’s starting to piss me off so I think I’ll reply “fascist” whenever she tells me off in future. I don’t take kindly to people trying to control my behaviour.
Saying all that, D’s pretty cool and has become my career guru. The first step of D’s career advice is being implemented tomorrow.
Electric Six: Fire – another album that used to be on constant rotation for months and months. This one definitely reminds me of Tim as we used to fuck to it. Dick Valentine sings “Girl, when I’m fucking you, its like nothing else matters.”
I tried to post this at work, but I use too many swear words and it won’t let me. So I am at home on D’s flash laptop with the remote internet connection thingy which is super cool. D says that if I had a voiceover I would be Carrie Bradshaw.
The mercury retrograde is over – praise fuck! Very icky times those are.
I’ve been thinking about time lately. I always thought of time as quite an abstract concept, very fickle and subjective, but then it was pointed out to me that clocks measure time. Which I knew of course, but never grasped that this then means that time exists in objective reality. If clocks measure time, then time must have some kind of relationship with physics, due to clocks being mechanical and all. One second equals gravity causing the pendulum to swing from here to here. I don’t really get that and I’m not sure I want to. I think time exists because humans need to experience reality in a linear fashion, or our brains will hurt trying to comprehend the simultaneous nature of existence. Which I have done on occasion, but luckily can’t sustain. If I could sustain it I’d be an airy-fairy hippy like the space cadet I used to be. Time exists for humans and I doubt that other creatures experience it in the same way we do. Just taking the creatures on this planet for example – I’m sure a fly’s three days seem like a lifetime, and I’m sure a big oak’s lifetime doesn’t seem particularly long. You can tell this because trees have this long-term perspective on things, which you’d know if you’d ever, like me, gotten high using drugs or meditation and had a chat to them. They are funny. It takes them a minute to realise that you are the one talking ‘tree’.
The first love of my life liked time, as in the time zones and calendar and 24 hour clock. He liked it cos it’s the one thing we all agree on.
You may have noticed something in that above paragraph. 10 points if you did. I said that I have had occasions of experiencing the simultaneous nature of existence, but did not sustain it. You may be thinking I’m full of shit and want me to explain myself. I am full of shit, of course, but I am also full of truth.
I digress – it is of course a paradox to talk about sustaining something when talking about experiencing the simultaneous-ness of existence. Just as it’s bullshit for me to talk about not sustaining this state when this state did in fact occur out of time. But to avoid long-winded and potentially ineffectual explanations such as these, I will let things like this slide from time to time.
Which is why I will not try to explain to you what I mean by something occurring “out of time”. I’ll just assume you’ve had similar experiences and if not you probably are bored shitless by this so we’ll leave it there.
By the way, I’m ok. Thanks for asking. How are you? Did you get that thing you wanted?
Laters.
Music du jour:
Cyndi Lauper: She’s So Unusual – the first album I ever bought! And still a goodie. ‘When you were mine’, ‘Witness’, ‘I’ll kiss you’ – gorgeous!
I was thinking about ‘She Bop’, cos you know it got banned from US radio after somebody figured out that it was about wanking. Is masturbation really such a contentious issue, or was it because it’s female masturbation? After all, in the 80’s you only enjoyed sex if you were a slut.
Once a song is banned is it always banned? I haven’t heard that song on the radio or seen the video since those few golden weeks when the US radio people still thought it was about dancing.
So how come Billy Idol’s ‘Dancing With Myself’ never got banned? Cos it’s boy-wanking? Does that make it okay? Guys seem to be forgiven for being animals more than girls are. That statement is not intended to use the word ‘animal’ in a derogatory way, just as an acknowledgement that we are indeed animals. Animals with complex social behaviours, but animals none the less. Guys scratch their balls in public, piss in public, burp and fart and throw tantrums in public and most people look the other way. I like to stare at guys who piss on the street like dogs and try to get a look at their dick so they’ll feel a bit more insecure about it in the future. Or at least be a bit more aware of what they are doing. Guys who piss in the toilet without shutting the door really fuck me off! There are unisex toilets at school and a guy did that yesterday. I was gonna say something to him but instead I paused outside his cubicle and gave him the evils. I hate unisex loos.
I burp and fart in public, using some (not very high) level of decorum. But I do not scratch my twat or tits, now matter how itchy they get. And I don’t piss in public. You have to expose your whole arse when you are a girl, so the logistics are a lot more challenging.
Speaking of burping, it turns out that D, my new flattie, is a burp nazi. Every time I burp she says “Ms Brown!” in the tone of a stern intermediate school teacher. I told her to give it up, as burping is one of my simple pleasures in life. She said that telling people not to is one of her simple pleasures – which it isn’t, by definition of a simple pleasure being something which is pleasing to the senses. It’s starting to piss me off so I think I’ll reply “fascist” whenever she tells me off in future. I don’t take kindly to people trying to control my behaviour.
Saying all that, D’s pretty cool and has become my career guru. The first step of D’s career advice is being implemented tomorrow.
Electric Six: Fire – another album that used to be on constant rotation for months and months. This one definitely reminds me of Tim as we used to fuck to it. Dick Valentine sings “Girl, when I’m fucking you, its like nothing else matters.”
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Sunday
Hi
I took photos in town yesterday. I had a great outfit on. I bought lots of photo supplies. I saw Fluffy Bunny. I heard her unique voice as I was walking down Cuba Mall, so I turned and said hi. She was with Rob – does this mean that Stella is back in town?
Fluffy Bunny made me think a lot. But perhaps I think too much.
Today is Sunday, which means it is glorious I-don’t-have-to-have-a-shower day. I can’t be arsed with this daily bathing malarkey, but modern life demands it. Except on Sundays. Yay!
I’ve spent the morning drinking bad coffee – Kenyan and old, but I found it in the cupboard and I am obsessed with using things up, so I grind it anew to make it a little fresher and drink it while trying to discern what it is exactly I don’t like about it. I don’t have the proper vocab to express my palate. From my hanging out with hospo people I am aware that there is a whole nother world of taste with its own vocabulary and etiquette. I am ignorant of this. I just like real good food and wine and coffee and liquor. I am a connoisseur of the sensemelia, however.
Speaking of which, I am all out and have been thinking of what I can do about this, and whether I should do anything about this or not.
So, like I was saying, I have spent this morning drinking bad coffee and working in my study. I’ve got stuff done, but the study now looks like a complete mess.
I was reading an interview with Kathleen Hanna
the other day and I loved this quote:
“She got a gig doing a short thing for MTV, and she needed somebody to do music for it. I lied and said, "Oh, yeah, I play guitar," and I totally didn't know what I was doing. So I locked myself in a room with a 4-track and a guitar I didn't know how to play, and I sat there for an hour trying to tune it and when I finally did I was just crying. But it was really cool, because nobody else would have hired me for something like that, and I needed the money, and it was really fun working with her.”
I often jump in at the deep end and force myself to swim. Some people call it courage. I’m not sure about that. It requires courage, yes, but that’s the means, not the motivation. This quote makes me happy cos my hero throws herself in at the deep end too.
Laters.
Music du jour:
Hope Sandoval: Bavarian Fruit Bread – Something mellow in the morning so as not to disturb my flatmate too much.
Pulp: This is hardcore – Jarvis was a bit unhappy when they made this record. You can tell. But I do love the “Dishes” song.
Queens of the Stone Age: Lullabies to Paralyze
Laurie Anderson: Mr Heartbreak
Eagles of Death Metal: Peace Love Death Metal – Ass-shakingly good. This album used to be on constant rotation. Now it reminds me of Tim a bit, so I have a slight resistance to listening to it.
I took photos in town yesterday. I had a great outfit on. I bought lots of photo supplies. I saw Fluffy Bunny. I heard her unique voice as I was walking down Cuba Mall, so I turned and said hi. She was with Rob – does this mean that Stella is back in town?
Fluffy Bunny made me think a lot. But perhaps I think too much.
Today is Sunday, which means it is glorious I-don’t-have-to-have-a-shower day. I can’t be arsed with this daily bathing malarkey, but modern life demands it. Except on Sundays. Yay!
I’ve spent the morning drinking bad coffee – Kenyan and old, but I found it in the cupboard and I am obsessed with using things up, so I grind it anew to make it a little fresher and drink it while trying to discern what it is exactly I don’t like about it. I don’t have the proper vocab to express my palate. From my hanging out with hospo people I am aware that there is a whole nother world of taste with its own vocabulary and etiquette. I am ignorant of this. I just like real good food and wine and coffee and liquor. I am a connoisseur of the sensemelia, however.
Speaking of which, I am all out and have been thinking of what I can do about this, and whether I should do anything about this or not.
So, like I was saying, I have spent this morning drinking bad coffee and working in my study. I’ve got stuff done, but the study now looks like a complete mess.
I was reading an interview with Kathleen Hanna
the other day and I loved this quote:
“She got a gig doing a short thing for MTV, and she needed somebody to do music for it. I lied and said, "Oh, yeah, I play guitar," and I totally didn't know what I was doing. So I locked myself in a room with a 4-track and a guitar I didn't know how to play, and I sat there for an hour trying to tune it and when I finally did I was just crying. But it was really cool, because nobody else would have hired me for something like that, and I needed the money, and it was really fun working with her.”
I often jump in at the deep end and force myself to swim. Some people call it courage. I’m not sure about that. It requires courage, yes, but that’s the means, not the motivation. This quote makes me happy cos my hero throws herself in at the deep end too.
Laters.
Music du jour:
Hope Sandoval: Bavarian Fruit Bread – Something mellow in the morning so as not to disturb my flatmate too much.
Pulp: This is hardcore – Jarvis was a bit unhappy when they made this record. You can tell. But I do love the “Dishes” song.
Queens of the Stone Age: Lullabies to Paralyze
Laurie Anderson: Mr Heartbreak
Eagles of Death Metal: Peace Love Death Metal – Ass-shakingly good. This album used to be on constant rotation. Now it reminds me of Tim a bit, so I have a slight resistance to listening to it.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Restless
Hi
I’m feeling restless.
Music du jour:
Laurie Anderson: Big Science – Laurie Anderson is a fucking genius. But you knew that already, right? I got a book out of the library about Laurie. It was all in German, unfortunately, but the pictures weren’t. There were a couple of photos of her as a quite young woman. She was a freak even then. I found those photos real interesting, cos I’d always thought of her as being in her 40’s.
Le Tigre: Le Tigre
Le Tigre: Feminist Sweepstakes –
You girls look tired
Were you out late last night?
I heard you were some kind of underground electro-feminist performance artists
Is that right?
Ladytron: Light & Magic – I used to be obsessed with the “seventeen” song. I would call up the radio station daily to request it.
I’m feeling restless.
Music du jour:
Laurie Anderson: Big Science – Laurie Anderson is a fucking genius. But you knew that already, right? I got a book out of the library about Laurie. It was all in German, unfortunately, but the pictures weren’t. There were a couple of photos of her as a quite young woman. She was a freak even then. I found those photos real interesting, cos I’d always thought of her as being in her 40’s.
Le Tigre: Le Tigre
Le Tigre: Feminist Sweepstakes –
You girls look tired
Were you out late last night?
I heard you were some kind of underground electro-feminist performance artists
Is that right?
Ladytron: Light & Magic – I used to be obsessed with the “seventeen” song. I would call up the radio station daily to request it.
Friday, August 12, 2005
She's a girl
Hi
So Stephen’s added me to his list of drinking buddies. I don’t have an image for him so he’s put a picture of a bald Melissa Ethridge to represent me. He got it by googling “ugly lesbian”.
I think this may be backlash from my “I’m hot” comments of yesterday. I’m not feeling hot today. I’m feeling zitty and flabby and in dire need of a haircut. This weekend will see my annual epilation of my winter-long hair, due to it being spring as heralded by the blossom tree outside my kitchen window. Spring is springing! Time to shave my legs and have some fun.
Plus, a goal for the month is to do all my maintenance in the hope of attracting someone. Or just to feel halfway decent. How high maintenance are you? I have eight things to do to be fully maintained: Hair mask, face mask, dye eyebrows, shave legs, shave pits, bikini line, pedicure, manicure. To give you an idea of what a slob I am it has been 1 week since I had a hair mask, 4 months since a face mask, 6 months since I dyed my eyebrows, 7 months since I shaved my legs, 1 week since I shaved my pits, 2 months since I did my bikini line, 6 weeks since a pedicure and 9 months since a manicure.
So even though I am potentially high maintenance in reality I am not. Because I can’t be arsed, not because I don’t need it.
My friend D commented once about being in “high maintenance mode” and I said it was cos she was getting some. She said “Yeah. I’m a getting-some cliché.”
She has stupidly, or it could have been drunkenly, agreed to attend a baby shower this weekend. She said “And there will come the moment when someone will ask ‘When are you having a baby?’ and everyone’s laser-beam attention will be on me while I try not to burst into tears.”
I said “My response to that question is ‘I have to get laid first.’ But you don’t have that excuse.” She is, after all, a getting-some cliché. Although it has now progressed into A Relationship.
Speaking of things attractive in the getting it on sense – I have a new crush. It’s a girl. Kinda weird, I know, as I went back into the closet a few years ago. I’d only ever been hanging out in the unisex dressing room of bisexuality, trying on sequins while drinking cocktails, but I was sure that I was firmly back into the closet of het, smoking pot and wearing my old jeans.
Anyway she’s a girl. A real one. She’s got thick blonde hair and wears very weird 80’s clothes. One day she was wearing a white blouse with short puffy sleeves and an embroidered collar like the one my mother used to make me wear and I HATED it. Far too girly. I was a tomboy so I hated wearing girly clothes. So she was wearing this dreaded white girly blouse with a woollen vest over the top and I just couldn’t stop looking at her. I couldn’t stop looking at her cos I was trying to figure out if she was beautiful or not, then I decided that she was, because I couldn’t stop looking at her.
Laters.
Music that I would like, but do not have as yet:
LCD Soundsystem
The Shocking Pinks: Matematical Warfare
The Phoenix Foundation: Pegasus
Chaka Khan – whichever one “I feel for you” is on.
So Stephen’s added me to his list of drinking buddies. I don’t have an image for him so he’s put a picture of a bald Melissa Ethridge to represent me. He got it by googling “ugly lesbian”.
I think this may be backlash from my “I’m hot” comments of yesterday. I’m not feeling hot today. I’m feeling zitty and flabby and in dire need of a haircut. This weekend will see my annual epilation of my winter-long hair, due to it being spring as heralded by the blossom tree outside my kitchen window. Spring is springing! Time to shave my legs and have some fun.
Plus, a goal for the month is to do all my maintenance in the hope of attracting someone. Or just to feel halfway decent. How high maintenance are you? I have eight things to do to be fully maintained: Hair mask, face mask, dye eyebrows, shave legs, shave pits, bikini line, pedicure, manicure. To give you an idea of what a slob I am it has been 1 week since I had a hair mask, 4 months since a face mask, 6 months since I dyed my eyebrows, 7 months since I shaved my legs, 1 week since I shaved my pits, 2 months since I did my bikini line, 6 weeks since a pedicure and 9 months since a manicure.
So even though I am potentially high maintenance in reality I am not. Because I can’t be arsed, not because I don’t need it.
My friend D commented once about being in “high maintenance mode” and I said it was cos she was getting some. She said “Yeah. I’m a getting-some cliché.”
She has stupidly, or it could have been drunkenly, agreed to attend a baby shower this weekend. She said “And there will come the moment when someone will ask ‘When are you having a baby?’ and everyone’s laser-beam attention will be on me while I try not to burst into tears.”
I said “My response to that question is ‘I have to get laid first.’ But you don’t have that excuse.” She is, after all, a getting-some cliché. Although it has now progressed into A Relationship.
Speaking of things attractive in the getting it on sense – I have a new crush. It’s a girl. Kinda weird, I know, as I went back into the closet a few years ago. I’d only ever been hanging out in the unisex dressing room of bisexuality, trying on sequins while drinking cocktails, but I was sure that I was firmly back into the closet of het, smoking pot and wearing my old jeans.
Anyway she’s a girl. A real one. She’s got thick blonde hair and wears very weird 80’s clothes. One day she was wearing a white blouse with short puffy sleeves and an embroidered collar like the one my mother used to make me wear and I HATED it. Far too girly. I was a tomboy so I hated wearing girly clothes. So she was wearing this dreaded white girly blouse with a woollen vest over the top and I just couldn’t stop looking at her. I couldn’t stop looking at her cos I was trying to figure out if she was beautiful or not, then I decided that she was, because I couldn’t stop looking at her.
Laters.
Music that I would like, but do not have as yet:
LCD Soundsystem
The Shocking Pinks: Matematical Warfare
The Phoenix Foundation: Pegasus
Chaka Khan – whichever one “I feel for you” is on.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
You're still a super hot female
Hi
I’m feeling crap. The thing about feeling crap is that things get crap and then I feel even crapper. Must bring myself out of it somehow.
Music du jour:
Gwen Stefani: Love Angel Music Baby – while listening to this I took a look at my watch and discovered that I’m still a super hot female. A Super Hot Female! Damn straight. Apparently the general consensus is that I am hot. Hot enough for people to ask Matt who I am and declaring “She’s hot”. Males and females reportedly. And hot enough for people to mention it to my face. But still I do not get laid. I must tell Matt that the next time someone says “She’s hot” he should reply “She’s single.”
I find it interesting the way Ms. Stefani talks to herself, assuming of course that it is herself she is talking to or about in “What you waiting for?”, “Hollerback girl”, etc. Calling herself a stupid ho is a bit rough, but I guess acknowledging that she is a super hot female makes up for it. She talks about her brand and sings her tag lines and I can’t help but think that this is before she creates them. That this album is a record of the process, the generation of ideas, the calling of the muses and calling for support, the vision of what will be before she actually goes ahead with the L.A.M.B label. It seems this way to me, but I don’t know if things actually happened that way round.
Instead it reinforces to me that making art about the process is valid. I should know this already, but don’t. I think things need to be planned and perfect before they actually happen. And I waste a lot of time creating the perfect plan rather than working and adapting the one I’ve got. But I’m aware of it now, so I’m getting better at actually working the plan. I have a note on my desk that says “Plan the work. Work the plan” as a reminder.
Queens of the Stone Age: Lullabies to Paralyze – oh yeah. Josh is hot, but mostly it’s a reflection from his super hot girlfriend. I showed Michaela a video of Brody’s and said “she’s great”. Michaela was like “yeah… there’s nothing wrong with her”. Which means she’s perfect, in case you didn’t get that.
Queens of the Stone Age, they have these patterns going on. These rhythmical guitar patterns. I like listening to the patterns – it’s like musical wallpaper. And I like the subtle one-offs – the riff or chord change or key change that only happens once in the song. It’s the break in the pattern. Ecstasy.
Speaking of ecstasy – I was the other day. I was talking to a couple of girls who wanted a bit more passion in their lives. To me, to be passionate about something is to experience ecstasy with that thing. I experience ecstasy all over the place. I told them how looking at a painting can send me into a rapture where time and space do not exist and I am pure being. They had no idea what I was talking about.
I used to have no faith that mainstream people could experience the depth of feeling that I could. Then I decided I was being conceited and of course other people can experience moments of bliss, ecstasy, love and awe. After talking to these girls I am not so sure again.
The other day, walking home I backtracked so I could stand still with my eyes closed and my face close to some wood board, so I could breathe in the fresh-cut wood smell.
Walking back from school I stopped and looked up until I saw the tui that was singing. I listened and watched. Tuis are great. Especially when you’ve been overseas for a while.
I often stop in the street to look or listen or feel or smell. I don’t see many other people doing the same so maybe its not completely normal. Fuck normal.
I’m feeling crap. The thing about feeling crap is that things get crap and then I feel even crapper. Must bring myself out of it somehow.
Music du jour:
Gwen Stefani: Love Angel Music Baby – while listening to this I took a look at my watch and discovered that I’m still a super hot female. A Super Hot Female! Damn straight. Apparently the general consensus is that I am hot. Hot enough for people to ask Matt who I am and declaring “She’s hot”. Males and females reportedly. And hot enough for people to mention it to my face. But still I do not get laid. I must tell Matt that the next time someone says “She’s hot” he should reply “She’s single.”
I find it interesting the way Ms. Stefani talks to herself, assuming of course that it is herself she is talking to or about in “What you waiting for?”, “Hollerback girl”, etc. Calling herself a stupid ho is a bit rough, but I guess acknowledging that she is a super hot female makes up for it. She talks about her brand and sings her tag lines and I can’t help but think that this is before she creates them. That this album is a record of the process, the generation of ideas, the calling of the muses and calling for support, the vision of what will be before she actually goes ahead with the L.A.M.B label. It seems this way to me, but I don’t know if things actually happened that way round.
Instead it reinforces to me that making art about the process is valid. I should know this already, but don’t. I think things need to be planned and perfect before they actually happen. And I waste a lot of time creating the perfect plan rather than working and adapting the one I’ve got. But I’m aware of it now, so I’m getting better at actually working the plan. I have a note on my desk that says “Plan the work. Work the plan” as a reminder.
Queens of the Stone Age: Lullabies to Paralyze – oh yeah. Josh is hot, but mostly it’s a reflection from his super hot girlfriend. I showed Michaela a video of Brody’s and said “she’s great”. Michaela was like “yeah… there’s nothing wrong with her”. Which means she’s perfect, in case you didn’t get that.
Queens of the Stone Age, they have these patterns going on. These rhythmical guitar patterns. I like listening to the patterns – it’s like musical wallpaper. And I like the subtle one-offs – the riff or chord change or key change that only happens once in the song. It’s the break in the pattern. Ecstasy.
Speaking of ecstasy – I was the other day. I was talking to a couple of girls who wanted a bit more passion in their lives. To me, to be passionate about something is to experience ecstasy with that thing. I experience ecstasy all over the place. I told them how looking at a painting can send me into a rapture where time and space do not exist and I am pure being. They had no idea what I was talking about.
I used to have no faith that mainstream people could experience the depth of feeling that I could. Then I decided I was being conceited and of course other people can experience moments of bliss, ecstasy, love and awe. After talking to these girls I am not so sure again.
The other day, walking home I backtracked so I could stand still with my eyes closed and my face close to some wood board, so I could breathe in the fresh-cut wood smell.
Walking back from school I stopped and looked up until I saw the tui that was singing. I listened and watched. Tuis are great. Especially when you’ve been overseas for a while.
I often stop in the street to look or listen or feel or smell. I don’t see many other people doing the same so maybe its not completely normal. Fuck normal.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
David Bowie is my backup singer
Hi
Its me. Could you tell?
Went to an opening at Enjoy last night. Felt uncomfortable again. Saw the Rostopher. He looked stressed. Talked to Shay and Paul and left pretty quickly. Didn’t like the art.
Went to Sandra’s opening. Saw Tracey – her baby hasn’t fallen out yet. She said it feels like puppies. Made me squirm. Left there pretty quickly too.
Drove home and ate pizza for the 11th night in a row. Read a fitness magazine while eating pizza and drinking beer. Decided I like planning more than doing (uh-duh!). Watched Futurama. Asked Miko to do the dishes, clean my room and do my homework for me. He bit me, which I took as a ‘no’, so I did it myself.
Slept. I have new sheets and they are the best sheets in the world. They are 100% cotton flannelette and bright pink. I get into them and I am instantly a cosy little princess. I got them from the Warewhare for $18. Bargain.
Saw Jaxx breifly last night. She was talking to some hot guy. He shook my hand and winked at me. Jaxx and I walked on and she told me he’s got his dick pierced. Many times. I don’t like that. It makes condoms break.
Like I’ll ever go there.
Later.
Music du jour:
Iggy Pop – Lust for Life: how cool would it be to say “So, like, David Bowie is my backup singer”
David Bowie – Let’s Dance: how cool would it be to say “So, like, Iggy Pop ismy lover.”
Its me. Could you tell?
Went to an opening at Enjoy last night. Felt uncomfortable again. Saw the Rostopher. He looked stressed. Talked to Shay and Paul and left pretty quickly. Didn’t like the art.
Went to Sandra’s opening. Saw Tracey – her baby hasn’t fallen out yet. She said it feels like puppies. Made me squirm. Left there pretty quickly too.
Drove home and ate pizza for the 11th night in a row. Read a fitness magazine while eating pizza and drinking beer. Decided I like planning more than doing (uh-duh!). Watched Futurama. Asked Miko to do the dishes, clean my room and do my homework for me. He bit me, which I took as a ‘no’, so I did it myself.
Slept. I have new sheets and they are the best sheets in the world. They are 100% cotton flannelette and bright pink. I get into them and I am instantly a cosy little princess. I got them from the Warewhare for $18. Bargain.
Saw Jaxx breifly last night. She was talking to some hot guy. He shook my hand and winked at me. Jaxx and I walked on and she told me he’s got his dick pierced. Many times. I don’t like that. It makes condoms break.
Like I’ll ever go there.
Later.
Music du jour:
Iggy Pop – Lust for Life: how cool would it be to say “So, like, David Bowie is my backup singer”
David Bowie – Let’s Dance: how cool would it be to say “So, like, Iggy Pop ismy lover.”
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
I love Jarvis
Hi
I turned 33 the other day. I was a bit wary of it, mostly because of Jarvis singing “A man told me to beware of 33. He said ‘It was not an easy time for me.’”
I love Jarvis. Only Jarvis could successfully rhyme “I” with “eye”. Jarvis successfully and publicly took the piss out of Michael Jackson – Freeeee Jarvis! And he did that great show on the BBC about sculpture. And he used to dj in London at that great gallery I forget the name of. You know, the one on the Mall (pronounced Mal, not Maul). I always wanted to go, but never did. I might have shat myself.
Jarvis often wears big black glasses. I have no idea why, but I am irresistibly drawn to boys who wear big black glassses. It might have something to do with the really great sex I had with Dane, who looks like Jack Osborne. Or maybe its something to do with vulnerability. Its definitely a plus to be in bed with a boy who has naturally vaseline-lens romantic vision. Especially when you get to my age. Sheesh.
Birthdays make me feel like a big fat loser. Or this one did anyhow. But I still had fun. I’ve got the bruises and the bills to show it. Lordy.
So I am now a girl of the Hutt. It’s right up your valley. Or mine. I haven’t finished unpacking yet, but mostly. It’s good. I have a whole houseful of stuff in the house, rather than a whole houseful of stuff stuffed into my room. Space.
Again with the space.
I saw a book lying on the side of the road that I thought Ross might be interested in. I almost picked it up for him, but then decided that I didn’t want to make myself vulnerable again. Then I bumped into his flatmate. She just had a birthday too.
Music of late:
Ani diFranco - Evolve
Blondie – Autoamerican
Le Tigre – Le Tigre
Le Tigre – Feminist Sweepstakes
Le Tigre – This Island
I turned 33 the other day. I was a bit wary of it, mostly because of Jarvis singing “A man told me to beware of 33. He said ‘It was not an easy time for me.’”
I love Jarvis. Only Jarvis could successfully rhyme “I” with “eye”. Jarvis successfully and publicly took the piss out of Michael Jackson – Freeeee Jarvis! And he did that great show on the BBC about sculpture. And he used to dj in London at that great gallery I forget the name of. You know, the one on the Mall (pronounced Mal, not Maul). I always wanted to go, but never did. I might have shat myself.
Jarvis often wears big black glasses. I have no idea why, but I am irresistibly drawn to boys who wear big black glassses. It might have something to do with the really great sex I had with Dane, who looks like Jack Osborne. Or maybe its something to do with vulnerability. Its definitely a plus to be in bed with a boy who has naturally vaseline-lens romantic vision. Especially when you get to my age. Sheesh.
Birthdays make me feel like a big fat loser. Or this one did anyhow. But I still had fun. I’ve got the bruises and the bills to show it. Lordy.
So I am now a girl of the Hutt. It’s right up your valley. Or mine. I haven’t finished unpacking yet, but mostly. It’s good. I have a whole houseful of stuff in the house, rather than a whole houseful of stuff stuffed into my room. Space.
Again with the space.
I saw a book lying on the side of the road that I thought Ross might be interested in. I almost picked it up for him, but then decided that I didn’t want to make myself vulnerable again. Then I bumped into his flatmate. She just had a birthday too.
Music of late:
Ani diFranco - Evolve
Blondie – Autoamerican
Le Tigre – Le Tigre
Le Tigre – Feminist Sweepstakes
Le Tigre – This Island
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Hungover
Hi
Hungover. Or still drunk? Thought I was gonna have to pull the last entry but its not so bad. Although I did say the Ross word, so ok, here’s his site .
I make myself tally up my drinks the next morning, usually when I am sitting on the crapper, but a lot more drinking memories have emerged since then.
At tupelo: 2 amstel, 1 shot of wild turkey rye
At enjoy: 2 beers plus another 2 in my pockets which I drank at show
At show: the above plus 1 beer
At good luck: 1 beer, 1 shot of fernet
At stephen’s: 1 shot of teacher’s
Total: 8 beers & 3 shots, plus 2 of Jaxx’s menthol cigarettes.
Shit.
I tried to think of a good excuse for a sickie this morning, but couldn’t come up with anything. Plus I have a couple of meetings today which I can’t really cancel. They are going to be soooo much more fun with a hangover.
Last night I went to tupelo and drank a beer slowly while I read the film festival guide. It was great. It’s the 3rd year I’ve sat at the bar at tupelo and read the film festival guide. There was a very cute boy sitting next to me. He started talking to me. His name’s Vinnie. I’ve met him before, cos I remembered the name. I told him about Vinnie’s tampon case. I think he was a little shocked. Seemed like a nice boy though. And very cute. Very very cute.
***
Man, its later now and my head just won’t stop hurting. Our landlord has turned into a demon from hell one week before I move out. Me and Mellypants are going to the free lawyer at 5.30. I’m going to tenancy services tomorrow. I want to yell at her but will wait til I am gone. Mellypants feels sad. Elisa’s so mad she wants to burn the house down. Landlord is a b-i-t-c-h.
Last night at tupelo while I was talking to the hot boy Jaxx turns up in dire need of a drink. She had a martini and got a bit plastered and cute boy was well on his way as well so I had to have a shot to keep them company in their drunkness. Tupelo was out of fernet, which is an absolute crime. They offered me lots of other stuff but I ended up with the rye whiskey I like.
Marnie was asking me lots of hard questions last night. “Why are you at design school?” and such. I told her why but I don’t think she really got it. I think she has an ideal that one must sacrifice all for art. I used to believe that when I was young, but now I’m all grown up and I know that one must look after oneself because no one else is going to do it. Plus surviving and being and doing what you gotta do is what its all about. Art is something that inspires me to look after myself, but should never take the place of actually looking after myself. Chop wood, carry water. Chop wood, carry water.
I was young and idealistic once and genuinely believed that life was about more than survival. But since then I’ve had to survive too many times for it to be about anything else.
This sounds hard and dreary but its not. It’s more about simplicity. First, one must survive, then one must enjoy. I’m not very articulate when I am hungover. I better leave it at that cos its not coming out right.
Went for a drink with Paul after show. He came on to me a couple of times I guess, but I didn’t react, so he left it. When we said goodbye he said “Have a nice orgasm.” Guys say weird shit sometimes. Like the night I met Arlo, when he left he said “Another time, but not tonight” like we’d been talking about sleeping together. Which we hadn’t. At all. We talked about sex, but not with each other. From what he said I think he is very, very, very bad in bed. Later dude, so not gonna sleep with you. Won’t sleep with Paul either, cos I don’t like his art.
Me and Jaxx had a conversation about whether we should have sex. We were working together at the time and decided it wasn’t a good idea cos we’d just have sex in the toilets all the time.
Sore head.
Stephen’s still reading my blog. He says he likes the writing. That’s nice.
Later.
Music du jour:
David Bowie – Let’s Dance
Hungover. Or still drunk? Thought I was gonna have to pull the last entry but its not so bad. Although I did say the Ross word, so ok, here’s his site .
I make myself tally up my drinks the next morning, usually when I am sitting on the crapper, but a lot more drinking memories have emerged since then.
At tupelo: 2 amstel, 1 shot of wild turkey rye
At enjoy: 2 beers plus another 2 in my pockets which I drank at show
At show: the above plus 1 beer
At good luck: 1 beer, 1 shot of fernet
At stephen’s: 1 shot of teacher’s
Total: 8 beers & 3 shots, plus 2 of Jaxx’s menthol cigarettes.
Shit.
I tried to think of a good excuse for a sickie this morning, but couldn’t come up with anything. Plus I have a couple of meetings today which I can’t really cancel. They are going to be soooo much more fun with a hangover.
Last night I went to tupelo and drank a beer slowly while I read the film festival guide. It was great. It’s the 3rd year I’ve sat at the bar at tupelo and read the film festival guide. There was a very cute boy sitting next to me. He started talking to me. His name’s Vinnie. I’ve met him before, cos I remembered the name. I told him about Vinnie’s tampon case. I think he was a little shocked. Seemed like a nice boy though. And very cute. Very very cute.
***
Man, its later now and my head just won’t stop hurting. Our landlord has turned into a demon from hell one week before I move out. Me and Mellypants are going to the free lawyer at 5.30. I’m going to tenancy services tomorrow. I want to yell at her but will wait til I am gone. Mellypants feels sad. Elisa’s so mad she wants to burn the house down. Landlord is a b-i-t-c-h.
Last night at tupelo while I was talking to the hot boy Jaxx turns up in dire need of a drink. She had a martini and got a bit plastered and cute boy was well on his way as well so I had to have a shot to keep them company in their drunkness. Tupelo was out of fernet, which is an absolute crime. They offered me lots of other stuff but I ended up with the rye whiskey I like.
Marnie was asking me lots of hard questions last night. “Why are you at design school?” and such. I told her why but I don’t think she really got it. I think she has an ideal that one must sacrifice all for art. I used to believe that when I was young, but now I’m all grown up and I know that one must look after oneself because no one else is going to do it. Plus surviving and being and doing what you gotta do is what its all about. Art is something that inspires me to look after myself, but should never take the place of actually looking after myself. Chop wood, carry water. Chop wood, carry water.
I was young and idealistic once and genuinely believed that life was about more than survival. But since then I’ve had to survive too many times for it to be about anything else.
This sounds hard and dreary but its not. It’s more about simplicity. First, one must survive, then one must enjoy. I’m not very articulate when I am hungover. I better leave it at that cos its not coming out right.
Went for a drink with Paul after show. He came on to me a couple of times I guess, but I didn’t react, so he left it. When we said goodbye he said “Have a nice orgasm.” Guys say weird shit sometimes. Like the night I met Arlo, when he left he said “Another time, but not tonight” like we’d been talking about sleeping together. Which we hadn’t. At all. We talked about sex, but not with each other. From what he said I think he is very, very, very bad in bed. Later dude, so not gonna sleep with you. Won’t sleep with Paul either, cos I don’t like his art.
Me and Jaxx had a conversation about whether we should have sex. We were working together at the time and decided it wasn’t a good idea cos we’d just have sex in the toilets all the time.
Sore head.
Stephen’s still reading my blog. He says he likes the writing. That’s nice.
Later.
Music du jour:
David Bowie – Let’s Dance
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
drunk
hi i'm at stephen's an he is so giving me shit. he hates art. he is giving me shit about blogging. he is giving me shit about ross (i told you). and he's trying to drink my art. mutherfucker, what does he know. i'm pissed and 5th form typing isnt haelping. i went to bed with flynn john who wanted to be in a band called flynn john and the flynn johns and we got pissed in victoria park and hitch hiked home (in auckland for god sake) and on his wall he had spraypainted "the jam" like on the record cover that stephen is holding up and i was in his bed in my mesh top with my nipples poking through and i thought what the fuck am i doing here when i woke up and bolted. shit it is hard to type when you are pissed and stephen is talking shit.
Balance
Hi
Watched a documentary last night about human hearing and balance.
· Music can stimulate the same pleasure centres of the brain as food or sex.
· We equate rhythm with the rhythm of our heart beat which is why fast music gets us excited and slow music can make us relaxed or depressed.
· We like really loud music cos when its really loud it shakes the bit in our ear that tells us we are moving, so we feel exhilarated. This is at about 90 decibels.
· Our balance centre is in our inner ear because hearing is actually an off-shoot of this sense. Hearing was the last sense to develop. After we climbed outta the water we needed to hear things via air for survival.
· The bit that I found most interesting: in our inner ear we have these three loopy things which allow us to experience three dimensions. What if we had four? Could we experience four dimensions? And what about beings that exist in four or five or more dimensions? Do they have four or five of these loopy things? This questions assumes that they have a similar biology to us, which I’ve never contemplated before. I’d always imaged beings of four or five dimensions to be more ethereal. But what about that parallel world where humans have four loopy bits and yet they are just as human as us with crap and shame and regret and joy and maybe even donuts?
Speaking of shame, I was reading PostSecret yesterday. Secrets are all about shame aren’t they? Something that you are too ashamed to mention or even to give a name to. I don’t think I have any secrets. That is I think that every “secret” I have, everything that I’m not gonna tell everyone, I have told at least one person. But then, I have been told that I am more honest than most. I don’t really think that’s true. Plus I am heavily into confessional art. But that’s a rant for another time.
Just had lunch with Jaxx. Went birthday shopping at dvice. She got me a clit clip. I was also checking out a very nice purple butterfly strap on vibe. Maybe is should splash out $70??
The other day I was telling her about the dumb boy and she said “Next time I see him I’ll grind his glasses into the ground with my stiletto and say ‘That’s for Ms Brown motherfucker. Yeah!’”
There were some very cute boys at the café so I took a seat next to them. Very very cute, although kinda young and studying law (yawn!). I told Jaxx about my dream last night when I spilt Barnaby’s drink. He was looking very hot in dream-land I must say, with his beard and silver glasses. Although he was drinking a screwdriver, which is kinda odd for a boy. Or a straight boy, at least.
Jeez, I just tried to link to the Black Seeds website and its been blocked. I work for a big corporation and they are always blocking sites, which is totally fair enough, it just makes me want my own computer more and more and more. I wonder if they’ll block this site? I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already.
Laters.
Music du jour:
Martina Topley-Bird – Quixotic
Courtney Love – America’s Sweetheart
Watched a documentary last night about human hearing and balance.
· Music can stimulate the same pleasure centres of the brain as food or sex.
· We equate rhythm with the rhythm of our heart beat which is why fast music gets us excited and slow music can make us relaxed or depressed.
· We like really loud music cos when its really loud it shakes the bit in our ear that tells us we are moving, so we feel exhilarated. This is at about 90 decibels.
· Our balance centre is in our inner ear because hearing is actually an off-shoot of this sense. Hearing was the last sense to develop. After we climbed outta the water we needed to hear things via air for survival.
· The bit that I found most interesting: in our inner ear we have these three loopy things which allow us to experience three dimensions. What if we had four? Could we experience four dimensions? And what about beings that exist in four or five or more dimensions? Do they have four or five of these loopy things? This questions assumes that they have a similar biology to us, which I’ve never contemplated before. I’d always imaged beings of four or five dimensions to be more ethereal. But what about that parallel world where humans have four loopy bits and yet they are just as human as us with crap and shame and regret and joy and maybe even donuts?
Speaking of shame, I was reading PostSecret yesterday. Secrets are all about shame aren’t they? Something that you are too ashamed to mention or even to give a name to. I don’t think I have any secrets. That is I think that every “secret” I have, everything that I’m not gonna tell everyone, I have told at least one person. But then, I have been told that I am more honest than most. I don’t really think that’s true. Plus I am heavily into confessional art. But that’s a rant for another time.
Just had lunch with Jaxx. Went birthday shopping at dvice. She got me a clit clip. I was also checking out a very nice purple butterfly strap on vibe. Maybe is should splash out $70??
The other day I was telling her about the dumb boy and she said “Next time I see him I’ll grind his glasses into the ground with my stiletto and say ‘That’s for Ms Brown motherfucker. Yeah!’”
There were some very cute boys at the café so I took a seat next to them. Very very cute, although kinda young and studying law (yawn!). I told Jaxx about my dream last night when I spilt Barnaby’s drink. He was looking very hot in dream-land I must say, with his beard and silver glasses. Although he was drinking a screwdriver, which is kinda odd for a boy. Or a straight boy, at least.
Jeez, I just tried to link to the Black Seeds website and its been blocked. I work for a big corporation and they are always blocking sites, which is totally fair enough, it just makes me want my own computer more and more and more. I wonder if they’ll block this site? I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already.
Laters.
Music du jour:
Martina Topley-Bird – Quixotic
Courtney Love – America’s Sweetheart
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Love and the 80's
Hi
Walking to work this morning I saw this girl with little black flats, neon pink tights, black knee-length skirt, bright green shirt, white bomber jacket, gino berrelli bag, chopped short hair and big-ass sony headphones. It sounds like she’s hot, but she wasn’t. She had potential, but was still young and didn’t have her groove on yet.
My question is: I get that the youth of today is into the 80’s, and it’s regurgitated by the mainstream, but sometimes they get it right. I mean so right. How do they know about gino berrelli bags? Is it the luck of op-shopping, or do they actually know from research, because they actually are interested?
Anyway, I still haven’t seen the aqua top with mesh and canvas bits and steel eyelet holes that I used to wear. I hated it. I hated most of my clothes in the 80’s, all that bat-wing bullshit. Except my black mesh top, that was hot. But I was too young and hadn’t got my groove on yet.
I’m a bit stressed at the moment. I know when I am stressed because I vomit in the morning. Puked nearly every morning for a week, so I’m admitting it – I’m stressed. I also puke when I am in love, but I know I’m not in love so it must be stress.
So I have these worries – what if this and what if that and then this would mean that and blah, blah, blah – but really, I just have to choose something different, something better. So that’s what I’m doing. But it’s hard you know? I feel like there’s this huge hole in my chest where my heart should be. And it aches. I’m not talking about the usual loneliness/longing ache that I have. This is different. This feels like an almost physical ache that wakes me up in the middle of the night. Its sore. I had to keep rubbing my chest yesterday, although my tits got in the way. I’ve been doing some healings, trying to fill it up with love, but at the moment it feels like a bottomless pit.
When I lived at Disco Mountain Katie hugged me on the landing. We stood, heart to heart with my breath in her hair. She said “And Ms Brown, who needs the most love of all.”
When we were breaking up Philly said to me: “There’s nothing wrong with what you want.” “What do you mean?” “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be loved.”
I have issues, obviously, which I need to sort out or I’ll never fall in love and make babies and be a housewife. But I do have a backup plan – I’ll be one of those mad old spinsters with 9 cats that makes art and stares at things that aren’t there. I’d prefer option A though, just cos it comes with regular sex. Ok, ok, and the love.
Last night I did not pack or visit Matt. I worked a little late, walked home, practised savasana, made dinner, watched Futurama, had a nap with my cat, worried, read and slept.
I slept wedged between my cat and a couple of pillows. It was kinda nice, like sleeping with someone. Other than my cat that is.
My flatmates are moving on, buying their own telly and stuff. It makes me feel lonely. Elisa’s boyfriend broke his leg playing soccer so she had to get out of bed and go to hospital. I can’t imagine how you would break your leg playing soccer. I guess I’ll find out tonight.
Laters.
Music du jour:
Throwing Muses – The Real Ramona: a classic.
Sonic Youth – Washing Machine: Honey, here’s a quarter. Go put it in a washing machine.
Walking to work this morning I saw this girl with little black flats, neon pink tights, black knee-length skirt, bright green shirt, white bomber jacket, gino berrelli bag, chopped short hair and big-ass sony headphones. It sounds like she’s hot, but she wasn’t. She had potential, but was still young and didn’t have her groove on yet.
My question is: I get that the youth of today is into the 80’s, and it’s regurgitated by the mainstream, but sometimes they get it right. I mean so right. How do they know about gino berrelli bags? Is it the luck of op-shopping, or do they actually know from research, because they actually are interested?
Anyway, I still haven’t seen the aqua top with mesh and canvas bits and steel eyelet holes that I used to wear. I hated it. I hated most of my clothes in the 80’s, all that bat-wing bullshit. Except my black mesh top, that was hot. But I was too young and hadn’t got my groove on yet.
I’m a bit stressed at the moment. I know when I am stressed because I vomit in the morning. Puked nearly every morning for a week, so I’m admitting it – I’m stressed. I also puke when I am in love, but I know I’m not in love so it must be stress.
So I have these worries – what if this and what if that and then this would mean that and blah, blah, blah – but really, I just have to choose something different, something better. So that’s what I’m doing. But it’s hard you know? I feel like there’s this huge hole in my chest where my heart should be. And it aches. I’m not talking about the usual loneliness/longing ache that I have. This is different. This feels like an almost physical ache that wakes me up in the middle of the night. Its sore. I had to keep rubbing my chest yesterday, although my tits got in the way. I’ve been doing some healings, trying to fill it up with love, but at the moment it feels like a bottomless pit.
When I lived at Disco Mountain Katie hugged me on the landing. We stood, heart to heart with my breath in her hair. She said “And Ms Brown, who needs the most love of all.”
When we were breaking up Philly said to me: “There’s nothing wrong with what you want.” “What do you mean?” “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be loved.”
I have issues, obviously, which I need to sort out or I’ll never fall in love and make babies and be a housewife. But I do have a backup plan – I’ll be one of those mad old spinsters with 9 cats that makes art and stares at things that aren’t there. I’d prefer option A though, just cos it comes with regular sex. Ok, ok, and the love.
Last night I did not pack or visit Matt. I worked a little late, walked home, practised savasana, made dinner, watched Futurama, had a nap with my cat, worried, read and slept.
I slept wedged between my cat and a couple of pillows. It was kinda nice, like sleeping with someone. Other than my cat that is.
My flatmates are moving on, buying their own telly and stuff. It makes me feel lonely. Elisa’s boyfriend broke his leg playing soccer so she had to get out of bed and go to hospital. I can’t imagine how you would break your leg playing soccer. I guess I’ll find out tonight.
Laters.
Music du jour:
Throwing Muses – The Real Ramona: a classic.
Sonic Youth – Washing Machine: Honey, here’s a quarter. Go put it in a washing machine.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Boys, Lists, Music
Hi
So, my friend Stephen has found my site already. Godammit, godammit, godammit. It’s my own silly fault though really. I’m allowed to link to his site, but he’s not allowed to link to mine. He promised on all that he holds good and holy that he would not read another word of my blog. He didn’t really. He said: I don’t read blogs. My translation from boy-language is: I won’t read your blog, mostly cos I’ll find it boring as hell. Boys are real understated. That’s what I like about them. Girls are all drama-drama. It gets tiring. Especially when you are one, sheesh.
I’ve been stressing today. I had to go and have a word with myself. (Have a word with yourself Pat!)
I feel like I’ve got a million things to do and its stunning me like a rabbit in the headlights. A list is called for I believe. I love lists. It’s a new love affair, but one that I am finding very rewarding.
Number one on my list is: pack! Cos I haven’t started yet. I’ve done some superficial packing, but that doesn’t really count. So I feel like I have shitloads to do, just cos I have shitloads of packing to do.
So it’s a short list. Good.
The other night when I was drunk I called Matt on the way home. He said he was working but he talks a lot so we chatted away until I got home and sat on my doorstep and chatted some more. He said, “Its like I’ve walked you home.” Which is sweet. He’s quite a sweetie.
As usual I was ranting about how boys suck and I never get any. I must stop doing that. It’s very boring. Plus, it doesn’t help at all. But I’ll let myself off as I’d just seen the boy who ignored me and was therefore feeling frustrated, confused, rejected, disappointed, angry, sick of the bullshit, and horny.
Hmmm. Dunno why I’m attracted to him. It’s real weird. I never found him attractive at all until one night when I just couldn’t stop looking at him. I left the pub we were drinking at to go meet a friend and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. So I texted him: Dunno why but I really wanna sleep with you tonight. He was there in 10 minutes flat. We tossed a coin to decide whose house to stay at.
That’s enough of that story. Stephen might be reading and he knows him and he’ll get all grossed out and give me shit about it the next time I see him. Mind you, he gives me shit all the time so I guess it doesn’t really matter.
Just spoke to Matt and asked if he wanted me to link to him on the web. He said “Only if you don’t say any weird stuff about me.” Do you reckon what I said was too weird? It’s hard to find a good link for Matt. There’s this but its old shit from 2001. And there’s this Cortina site but its unoffical and Matt doesn’t want anyone emailing him.
He invited me over for a “coffee” tonight – it doesn't mean what you probably think it does. I keep meaning to visit him but I never do. I must pack tonight.
Tired now.
Laters.
Music du jour:
Real Gone – Tom Waits : Tom waits for no one.
America’s Sweetheart – Courtney Love : I know, I know, everyone hates this record. Everyone hates it and no ones even heard it, they just know its crap already. And yes, I did buy it from the Warewhare for $5.99 or something, and when I first heard this album I thought it was all predictable guitar with predictable lyrics and predictable one chord endings. Then I noticed the Fleetwood Mac-iness of it. Then it grew on me. And grew.
It has gorgeous prettiness as lovely as “Best Sunday Dress” or “Malibu”. And some rockin pieces as raw as “Live Through This” or “She Walks Over Me”. I love this album. To me the song that got dissed as sounding like Courtney getting an arse wax, “Life Despite God”, is glorious in its Patti Smith-ness and probably my favourite.
And really, how great is it to start an album with a song that asks “Did you miss me?”. Hell yeah.
So, my friend Stephen has found my site already. Godammit, godammit, godammit. It’s my own silly fault though really. I’m allowed to link to his site, but he’s not allowed to link to mine. He promised on all that he holds good and holy that he would not read another word of my blog. He didn’t really. He said: I don’t read blogs. My translation from boy-language is: I won’t read your blog, mostly cos I’ll find it boring as hell. Boys are real understated. That’s what I like about them. Girls are all drama-drama. It gets tiring. Especially when you are one, sheesh.
I’ve been stressing today. I had to go and have a word with myself. (Have a word with yourself Pat!)
I feel like I’ve got a million things to do and its stunning me like a rabbit in the headlights. A list is called for I believe. I love lists. It’s a new love affair, but one that I am finding very rewarding.
Number one on my list is: pack! Cos I haven’t started yet. I’ve done some superficial packing, but that doesn’t really count. So I feel like I have shitloads to do, just cos I have shitloads of packing to do.
So it’s a short list. Good.
The other night when I was drunk I called Matt on the way home. He said he was working but he talks a lot so we chatted away until I got home and sat on my doorstep and chatted some more. He said, “Its like I’ve walked you home.” Which is sweet. He’s quite a sweetie.
As usual I was ranting about how boys suck and I never get any. I must stop doing that. It’s very boring. Plus, it doesn’t help at all. But I’ll let myself off as I’d just seen the boy who ignored me and was therefore feeling frustrated, confused, rejected, disappointed, angry, sick of the bullshit, and horny.
Hmmm. Dunno why I’m attracted to him. It’s real weird. I never found him attractive at all until one night when I just couldn’t stop looking at him. I left the pub we were drinking at to go meet a friend and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. So I texted him: Dunno why but I really wanna sleep with you tonight. He was there in 10 minutes flat. We tossed a coin to decide whose house to stay at.
That’s enough of that story. Stephen might be reading and he knows him and he’ll get all grossed out and give me shit about it the next time I see him. Mind you, he gives me shit all the time so I guess it doesn’t really matter.
Just spoke to Matt and asked if he wanted me to link to him on the web. He said “Only if you don’t say any weird stuff about me.” Do you reckon what I said was too weird? It’s hard to find a good link for Matt. There’s this but its old shit from 2001. And there’s this Cortina site but its unoffical and Matt doesn’t want anyone emailing him.
He invited me over for a “coffee” tonight – it doesn't mean what you probably think it does. I keep meaning to visit him but I never do. I must pack tonight.
Tired now.
Laters.
Music du jour:
Real Gone – Tom Waits : Tom waits for no one.
America’s Sweetheart – Courtney Love : I know, I know, everyone hates this record. Everyone hates it and no ones even heard it, they just know its crap already. And yes, I did buy it from the Warewhare for $5.99 or something, and when I first heard this album I thought it was all predictable guitar with predictable lyrics and predictable one chord endings. Then I noticed the Fleetwood Mac-iness of it. Then it grew on me. And grew.
It has gorgeous prettiness as lovely as “Best Sunday Dress” or “Malibu”. And some rockin pieces as raw as “Live Through This” or “She Walks Over Me”. I love this album. To me the song that got dissed as sounding like Courtney getting an arse wax, “Life Despite God”, is glorious in its Patti Smith-ness and probably my favourite.
And really, how great is it to start an album with a song that asks “Did you miss me?”. Hell yeah.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
The Independence List
As previously mentioned
, here is my independence list:
What do I need to be independent?
1. Always be rock n roll
2. Achieve financial independence
3. Don’t go home for Christmas
4. Find my real home
5. Meditate daily
6. Masterbate
7. Be free, hippy!
8. Remember, you can do anything in this world
, here is my independence list:
What do I need to be independent?
1. Always be rock n roll
2. Achieve financial independence
3. Don’t go home for Christmas
4. Find my real home
5. Meditate daily
6. Masterbate
7. Be free, hippy!
8. Remember, you can do anything in this world
Boys are Crap
Hi.
Its Sunday morning and I am at work. There is a good reason. But before I get started I just had to write as I’ve been thinking about my blog a lot. I guess that’s good.
After drinking beer at work on Friday, I drank some more at Tupelo and then some more at Bodega. I ended up having a crappy night and was so hungover yesterday that I got a bit pissed off with myself for wasting my time and energy.
I had a crappy night mostly because the last guy I slept with ignored me. He said hello but that was it. Now I could make up a thousand theories on why he acted like that, and one of them might even be true, but dammit – its rude. Especially seeing as we’ve known each other for a couple of years now and he’s sposed to be some kind of friend or something.
Anyhow, that’s his problem not mine. My problem is that I waste time and energy on people, especially boys, like this. I have to learn to just walk away.
Yesterday I was sposed to get some more boxes for packing, go to work, visit Matt and go to Hilly’s farewell party. Instead I was hungover and slept all day, got woken up by Hil, drove to the Hutt, looked around the house discussing stuff – like water tobies and gas heating – tried to be social, drove home, ate KFC, and went to bed at 5.30.
My new computer which I am buying off Hil and Nun when they leave wasn’t working yesterday. I am so looking forward to having a computer of my own, so I hope they fix it this week – they leave on Sunday.
I’m going to do my work now.
Laters.
Music du jour:
Juvenilia – the Verlaines
Its Sunday morning and I am at work. There is a good reason. But before I get started I just had to write as I’ve been thinking about my blog a lot. I guess that’s good.
After drinking beer at work on Friday, I drank some more at Tupelo and then some more at Bodega. I ended up having a crappy night and was so hungover yesterday that I got a bit pissed off with myself for wasting my time and energy.
I had a crappy night mostly because the last guy I slept with ignored me. He said hello but that was it. Now I could make up a thousand theories on why he acted like that, and one of them might even be true, but dammit – its rude. Especially seeing as we’ve known each other for a couple of years now and he’s sposed to be some kind of friend or something.
Anyhow, that’s his problem not mine. My problem is that I waste time and energy on people, especially boys, like this. I have to learn to just walk away.
Yesterday I was sposed to get some more boxes for packing, go to work, visit Matt and go to Hilly’s farewell party. Instead I was hungover and slept all day, got woken up by Hil, drove to the Hutt, looked around the house discussing stuff – like water tobies and gas heating – tried to be social, drove home, ate KFC, and went to bed at 5.30.
My new computer which I am buying off Hil and Nun when they leave wasn’t working yesterday. I am so looking forward to having a computer of my own, so I hope they fix it this week – they leave on Sunday.
I’m going to do my work now.
Laters.
Music du jour:
Juvenilia – the Verlaines
Friday, July 08, 2005
Beer and Politics
London got blown up today (or last night?). None of my friends were hurt. Phew! I could talk about the politics of the thing, but I don’t like talking about politics. Except occasionally, over beer.
Got any beer?
Didn’t think so.
My friend kicked out his girlfriend the other night. There was a bit of a build up, thus:
She took some space by staying a friend’s place, albeit on and off, for a week.
Me – Aren’t you offended?
Him – Not really. She’ll soon learn that I don’t care if she needs to take some space from me now and then.
Then she told him that she’d been sleeping with someone else.
Me – fuck that’s full on.
Him – not really. I don’t really mind.
Me – What?
Him – I’m not a jealous person.
Me – Really? I’m a very jealous person. I get jealous sooo easily.
Him – Yeah, I’ve noticed that about you.
Then the other night I saw him at the bus stop as I was walking home and he told me he’d kicked her out. She said she wanted to go back home by herself. And she didn’t wanna talk about it. So that’s the straw then I guess.
Relationships are weird things. But then people are strange, so one or more strange things reacting to each other was never gonna be logical.
I’m single by the way. You have no idea how single I am.
So, I’m moving house soon. My oldest friend is going back to London so I am housesitting her house for 1, 2 maybe even 4 years. No rent! How jammy is that? But it’s in the Hutt. That’s ok, it’s a great house so it’s worth the commute.
Anyhoo, it’s making me get very restless in my little cottage with the paper-thin walls and the flatmate who is annoying the shit out of me. I have been having fantasies of all the loud things I can do when I move.
One of those fantasies has been making music again. Although I doubt that I will, cos I never do. I read this great quote from Kathleen Hanna last week. It was something about male hysteria being a wall between her and the music she wanted to make and protools being the instrument of liberation from that. Or something. I tried to find it on Google, but couldn’t.
So I have this fantasy that in my new empty house that has neighbours far enough away that I can be noisy, I’ll learn how to use protools on my new computer, or maybe my old 4-track and I’ll make some music. I’m thinking of borrowing someone’s guitar (cos I sold mine) and bass (cos I sold mine) and keyboards and drum machine but the main thing I am thinking about, cos it’s the main thing I always think about, is singing. Will I find my voice? I found it once for a little while a long time ago, but I’ve lost it since.
And because I’ve recently learned how to DO A PROJECT UNTIL ITS COMPLETED I might even burn some cds and send them to Radio Active and, because this is a fantasy, become a rock star and find some nice boy who’ll let me sit on his face whenever I feel like it.
The things we do to get laid, eh? Or, maybe it’s just me. I’m desperate. I can say that now, thanks to the Distillers' song. And soon I’ll be desperate in the suburbs. Which I think should be the title of my e.p. “Desperate in the Suburbs” by Ms Brown.
But, back in reality I have to find some boxes and pack up all my stuff, as well as coming in to work this weekend. Crap.
My rock star du jour, the one I fantasise about being at the moment, is: Wynne Greenwood. Even made a bit of art about it. But you can’t see it. Not unless you ask real nice. And even then you’ll have to wait til I move and get my new computer.
Beer is waiting for me, but hopefully not talk of politics, so I’m off.
Laters.
P.S. Please join me in sending out big psychic healing hugs for all those affected by bombs – all bombs, not just the four in London yesterday. Ta.
Got any beer?
Didn’t think so.
My friend kicked out his girlfriend the other night. There was a bit of a build up, thus:
She took some space by staying a friend’s place, albeit on and off, for a week.
Me – Aren’t you offended?
Him – Not really. She’ll soon learn that I don’t care if she needs to take some space from me now and then.
Then she told him that she’d been sleeping with someone else.
Me – fuck that’s full on.
Him – not really. I don’t really mind.
Me – What?
Him – I’m not a jealous person.
Me – Really? I’m a very jealous person. I get jealous sooo easily.
Him – Yeah, I’ve noticed that about you.
Then the other night I saw him at the bus stop as I was walking home and he told me he’d kicked her out. She said she wanted to go back home by herself. And she didn’t wanna talk about it. So that’s the straw then I guess.
Relationships are weird things. But then people are strange, so one or more strange things reacting to each other was never gonna be logical.
I’m single by the way. You have no idea how single I am.
So, I’m moving house soon. My oldest friend is going back to London so I am housesitting her house for 1, 2 maybe even 4 years. No rent! How jammy is that? But it’s in the Hutt. That’s ok, it’s a great house so it’s worth the commute.
Anyhoo, it’s making me get very restless in my little cottage with the paper-thin walls and the flatmate who is annoying the shit out of me. I have been having fantasies of all the loud things I can do when I move.
One of those fantasies has been making music again. Although I doubt that I will, cos I never do. I read this great quote from Kathleen Hanna last week. It was something about male hysteria being a wall between her and the music she wanted to make and protools being the instrument of liberation from that. Or something. I tried to find it on Google, but couldn’t.
So I have this fantasy that in my new empty house that has neighbours far enough away that I can be noisy, I’ll learn how to use protools on my new computer, or maybe my old 4-track and I’ll make some music. I’m thinking of borrowing someone’s guitar (cos I sold mine) and bass (cos I sold mine) and keyboards and drum machine but the main thing I am thinking about, cos it’s the main thing I always think about, is singing. Will I find my voice? I found it once for a little while a long time ago, but I’ve lost it since.
And because I’ve recently learned how to DO A PROJECT UNTIL ITS COMPLETED I might even burn some cds and send them to Radio Active and, because this is a fantasy, become a rock star and find some nice boy who’ll let me sit on his face whenever I feel like it.
The things we do to get laid, eh? Or, maybe it’s just me. I’m desperate. I can say that now, thanks to the Distillers' song. And soon I’ll be desperate in the suburbs. Which I think should be the title of my e.p. “Desperate in the Suburbs” by Ms Brown.
But, back in reality I have to find some boxes and pack up all my stuff, as well as coming in to work this weekend. Crap.
My rock star du jour, the one I fantasise about being at the moment, is: Wynne Greenwood. Even made a bit of art about it. But you can’t see it. Not unless you ask real nice. And even then you’ll have to wait til I move and get my new computer.
Beer is waiting for me, but hopefully not talk of politics, so I’m off.
Laters.
P.S. Please join me in sending out big psychic healing hugs for all those affected by bombs – all bombs, not just the four in London yesterday. Ta.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Day #1
Hi
I’ve been meaning to start an online diary for a while. My last attempt was at Diaryland and it was a complete failure.
I love journals. I love keeping them and reading them. Big fan of Anais Nin. And huge fan of Nikol Lohr.
Plus, there’s another journally thing I do, but I’ll tell ya later.
So, here I am procrastinating at work - which is kinda bad except that it is after hours and I’m sposed to be finishing off something with a deadline of tomorrow – actually, that’s worse. Anyhoo, here I am and wondering who I am talking to, who my audience is. Anne Frank had Kitty and she is pretty rad as far as audiences go, but I like stuff I make with no audience in mind. I just make stuff to see how it’ll turn out. So I guess that’s what I’ll do here.
At lunch time today I walked downtown and opened up a joint bank account with Hilly. They did a credit check on me and I am as pure as the driven snow. Luverly. On the way back I saw Elisa and we discovered that you can call someone a spoon in English as well as Italian. Crocodile tears is another saying in both languages. Inneresting.
I haven’t really had anything on my mind today. No stress. No obsessions. But I also haven’t been fully engaged in the moment. Feeling a little vague and unable to focus on anything in particular.
Got wasted with Michaela the other night and we lay on my bed and made a list. It was Independence Day so we made a list called “What I need to be independent”. Number 1 was: Always be rock n’ roll. Number 2 was: Achieve financial independence. Can’t remember the rest.
Michaela is always rock n’ roll, even when she isn’t. But I decided I needed to re-word it. I was thinking “I love every moment of my life”, or variations of such depending on my levels of bravery, love, etc. I’ve been saying this a bit lately (internally) and its been working quite a treat. I alternate it with “I enjoy every moment of my life” but love is better than enjoy for the bits that aren’t enjoyable, cos they are still loveable. Anyhoo, it helps me stay in the moment. And it helps me feel good. So two ticks! And a gold star.
I am a bit of a new-age-hippy-witch-Taoist-whatever, so you’ll just have to deal with it. You can get it or not, whatever.
I could give you some juicy sex details, but its been a while. Last time I had sex it was me remembering having sex while I had a wank. But sex is one of my favourite things, so I’m sure to share later on. If I get lucky that is.
Laters.
I’ve been meaning to start an online diary for a while. My last attempt was at Diaryland and it was a complete failure.
I love journals. I love keeping them and reading them. Big fan of Anais Nin. And huge fan of Nikol Lohr.
Plus, there’s another journally thing I do, but I’ll tell ya later.
So, here I am procrastinating at work - which is kinda bad except that it is after hours and I’m sposed to be finishing off something with a deadline of tomorrow – actually, that’s worse. Anyhoo, here I am and wondering who I am talking to, who my audience is. Anne Frank had Kitty and she is pretty rad as far as audiences go, but I like stuff I make with no audience in mind. I just make stuff to see how it’ll turn out. So I guess that’s what I’ll do here.
At lunch time today I walked downtown and opened up a joint bank account with Hilly. They did a credit check on me and I am as pure as the driven snow. Luverly. On the way back I saw Elisa and we discovered that you can call someone a spoon in English as well as Italian. Crocodile tears is another saying in both languages. Inneresting.
I haven’t really had anything on my mind today. No stress. No obsessions. But I also haven’t been fully engaged in the moment. Feeling a little vague and unable to focus on anything in particular.
Got wasted with Michaela the other night and we lay on my bed and made a list. It was Independence Day so we made a list called “What I need to be independent”. Number 1 was: Always be rock n’ roll. Number 2 was: Achieve financial independence. Can’t remember the rest.
Michaela is always rock n’ roll, even when she isn’t. But I decided I needed to re-word it. I was thinking “I love every moment of my life”, or variations of such depending on my levels of bravery, love, etc. I’ve been saying this a bit lately (internally) and its been working quite a treat. I alternate it with “I enjoy every moment of my life” but love is better than enjoy for the bits that aren’t enjoyable, cos they are still loveable. Anyhoo, it helps me stay in the moment. And it helps me feel good. So two ticks! And a gold star.
I am a bit of a new-age-hippy-witch-Taoist-whatever, so you’ll just have to deal with it. You can get it or not, whatever.
I could give you some juicy sex details, but its been a while. Last time I had sex it was me remembering having sex while I had a wank. But sex is one of my favourite things, so I’m sure to share later on. If I get lucky that is.
Laters.
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