speculatory hunger

I am packing for Falls currently and my hands smell like vinegar from this tent waterproofer. I feel a bit faint and out of sorts because I'm tired.

being tired emphasises and often blows out of proportion a lot of emotions. sometimes I think that they're somehow more real, because you don't have the energy to sustain fronts that you usually do - possibly subconsciously - to protect yourself or others. but then again you can't just negate all the things you feel on a day to day basis just because you have to stifle or filter them for the public.

anyway maybe this doesn't make sense because when you're tired you also tend to ramble or exaggerate.

I think that we wrongly arrange ourselves around the big events at this end of the year. Indeed I think there's something wrong with the notion of this being an end. I wish I could draw you a picture to explain. Anyway if we lived in the northern hemisphere we'd be different because we'd organise our live around mid year summer. I suppose it's just a way to help us feel like we're moving forth, ascending in some sort of way. Like a "new year" can somehow bring about an indelible change in our personality. It's absolutely ridiculous. But we will most of us subscribe to this farce and pretend that auld lang syne will cleanse our habits from our systems.

I'm annoyed because I wish I could pretend there was a stark end between 2008 and 2009 - that my slate will be wiped clean for me. But it never is. and besides, I have more important things to worry about than when my moon will be in jupiter's house.

the bravery

writing anything on this computer screen seems absolutely ridiculous. this massive platform glares at me and makes anything I write seem so absurd and pretentious. possibly a subconscious parallel of how pretentious I feel I am (sometimes).

I sent away my notebook to a friend yesterday and I miss it. I did it very carelessly, scurrying to get to the post office before four o'clock, without considering how much I was letting go. I need to find a replacement: one that will fit in my bag and just come around with me everywhere.

I have been lazily contemplating my reasons for getting blogger and also considering what I intend to include in it. So far, I have no idea and I kinda want to delete this shit cause I wholeheartedly prefer livejournal.

Blogger seems to encourage publicity and linkage rather than focus on the content of actual blogs. Lacking substance, the content of blogs seem to be competitive, less for personal enjoyment and expression (IN SOME CASES). A bit of a blog realm McDonalds, if you will.

double up

I went to a retrostar warehouse sale and bought a cat skirt. Here are pictures (of the clothes) (and me in them)

Look at me with my pseudo fashion blog: crappy bathroom pics and slung hips to boot. The skirt is long but I want to hem it up to where I'm holding it. It was $5, as were the two shirts that I am wearing. It's raining still everyone, in case you didn't know.

With regard to that boy who was shot by policemen, his story scares me because it sounds so familiar. Too many people I know could be that boy. It alarms me that a fifteen year old kid could decide he wants to stop living and to then go about it. It scares me how brutal it was or rather how brutally and fiercely he wanted to be killed. When I was walking through Melbourne Central this afternoon I looked down those square holes they have that run through all the levels of it and I contemplated what it would take to make me jump over the railing and let myself fall down to the bottom. I couldn't find anything in me that wanted to let go.

Did that boy know? Did he just think about there not being any more hurt and did he think that it would just be erased? Did he just want to join his dad? Was he just attention seeking? Did he have second thoughts?

Sometimes I just want to live my life in a little cocoon or a cupboard or a shower because it is so so very big and it aches.

catharsis

I had to tell someone something I knew they would not like.

I felt like I was delivering the final blow and watching them fall to their knees.

But although it was indeed selfish, it was the right thing for me to have done.

wild pride

Actually who am I kidding. I've been the queen of ranting since 2002, why stop now.

Although I have little to say.

The problem with the internet is that it allows you all these innumerable platforms upon which to express yourself. People such as myself might want to write things, but people like me seldom have things of note to say.

I guess I could tell you people about how I met John Darnielle at a Final Fantasy concert. But I don't feel like it because I already feel bad enough about stealing the experience away from my friends in New Zealand who love him a lot more than I do. That bothers me, because I sort of felt like I was having a great moment in my life and now the retrospect is tainted by what one of them said regarding me getting quite fangirl about the whole incident.

On the inside, as I was talking to John, I was thinking about how much more my kiwi counterparts would be enjoying his conversation. I even mentioned them to John, comparing them to the enthusiastic fans at his concert on Wednesday: those who sang Wild Sage with him despite it being a high and quiet song. Basically, I am irritated by the comments that I heard and it has soured an event which should have been pretty special.

It actually was though. Mr Darnielle is a really sweet man. He commented on my Thailand tshirt and said that his wife was from there and we talked about Owen Pallett, and it was revealed that his favourite Final Fantasy song is "This is the dream of Win and Regine". Which is mine also. He said a few times that Owen's music touches him in *here* whilst gesturing and that they were friends. He recommended that I buy one of the albums. I was pretty irrational whilst talking, I'm sure. The same thing happened when I met Clare Bowditch. My heart starts beating in disproportionate amounts that seem to rattle my whole body, my legs turning to spaghetti. It was all I could do to remain standing. Which, thought my mind, is ridiculous because I am a fan, though I am not a super mega fan like others I know. There were these boys yelling themselves hoarse at the concert, looking like they were in pain as they closed their eyes and sang along with John. It clearly meant so so much to them. I said as much to John and remarked that I couldn't believe that of those people, I was meeting him.

So for someone to make a comment that I was, in some indirect way, cheapening their love for the Mountain Goats is fair enough. Because I did sort of approach him in a stalkery way, completely go off tap when I realised who I was looking at. I did shamelessly flaunt it all over myspace, facebook and twitter. I only own one album and a bunch of songs that people have given me on CDs. I love them all though. God. Some things I do on behalf of other people and I can't explain why. I went to their concert pretty much just because I wanted to share an experience with my friend in New Zealand. Then I happened to see this guy who she idolises at a concert and I leaped at the chance to have a talk with him.

I feel annoyed because this blog has begun on an angry note, but I need to get this out of my system because I am bothered by the fact that I can't let myself feel good about meeting someone so lovely.

notes

Currently I do not know how to use this website. But sometimes I like to think I know how to make CDs for people. And I think I know how to receive them too.

Apparently, after a long long time of trying, I have learnt the art of brevity.

arms

I think this year has been very, very short. I can't even do that thing where you consider that there were, in fact, long days. Because my god it just went hellishly fast.