magic numbers

Lately I've been feeling like things are moving on from their baseless, pointless nature. And I with them.

That said, I am also wondering if it's all just a trick and I will go on feeling so goddamn useless and unsubstantial for [the rest of my life] a long time.

Of course I can't lie and say I constantly feel like that. I forget from time to time. But it's something I return to.

Then I also think that maybe I just don't accept happiness and that I just seek out sadness. Or not even. Sometimes I think that I do the same things as everyone and what I think unhappy is is just normal. Maybe I just want to seem like an anomaly. Lately I also think that people just crave individuality and will do anything they can to seem so. Even feign sadness. Maybe I'm guilty of that.

The image of 'happy' I have in my mind is this absurdly ecstatic, overjoyed person who has everything they ever wanted and is consistently excited about waking up every morning. Happiness for me is often little victories.

What is happy anyway? A feeling? An emotion? Most of the time I think that I'm just 'fine', neither unhappy or happy. But fine has negative connotations so whenever you say that people assume there's something wrong. Maybe that's the problem: people go assuming that fine is wrong and so it eventually becomes wrong.

5.52

Guess what
I only keep this blog for less than 3 people
Others I can talk to in person

I still don't like you, blogger. I despise the animosity that you seem to encourage
I don't feel like I can talk about James Joyce here. It seems the wrong place for him to inhabit

I don't like how I feel I am not allowed to talk about myself - that is speak of I - here.

I'm a working girl now and my computer's coming soon so I'll be able to pay attention to everything here a bit more regularly. But also now I work and uni is starting so there's that also.

Ah and I don't know whether I can go to Summertones this weekend because my sister's decided to have her 21st on that day. That disappoints me not only because I wanted to see PLE but also because I will have to go back home the weekend before uni starts.

Finally. My feet hurt a lot and I'd like a new pair of shoes quite soon.

we'll just honey-soy the chicken then figure out what we're doing

I am writing to inform my "readers" that I don't actually have constant access to the internet and will as such be relying on sporradic trips to my uni's library (which are somewhat depressing given that I don't have any other reason to be there and will be forced to spend time there in approximately two weeks) and my sister's house. I was surprised to note that the latter is actually located quite closely to the Hawthorn Library and felt rather surprised and somewhat violated as my real life semi-intersected with my blogspot life. Anyway. The point of all this is that I don't have internet. Or tv. I find myself watching a lot of dvds and going on a lot of extensive tram journeys. My sister's helping us out with a couple of discs of Strangers With Candy.

For some time I contemplated life as a small bird in a cage. I've got nothing against birds in general - save for cassowaries. And I don't really like chickens unless they are bantams though. Well groomed bantams, mind you, none of this ridiculous feathery crap. Feathered ankles will lead to dirty ankles. Then they will get all lumpy and gross.

maybe they were just dream-like

please pretend it's yesterday on the train.... GO

"Fuck the clouds are so pretty today but I can't draw (at all) with a pen (or anything else) so they will have to remain etched upon my memory. There's a small slit in a sheet of heavy blue clouds and the sun's rays are just getting through it, shining two strong sections of beam down to the ground that now looks like the promised land or as if something holy has happened there. I could pretend like God was sitting behind this blueish curtain with a torch, doing some sort of ethereal puppetry for the amusement of his kingdom. But it's just a large ball of gas and a weather pattern in beautiful desultory union. It all makes me 'excited' for winter; at least convinces me there will be some salvation from the dry, harsh summer"

triple cancer

It's funny how awkward people feel/seem/look when strangers approach them. Even if strangers are friendly they are regarded with suspicion.

It doesn't help if they appear or speak quite eccentrically. Yesterday on the tram this scruffy - the bad kind - middle-aged man was animatedly interacting with everyone around him. Fortunately I had my ipod in so I was saved from his outlandishness. I suppose we protect our personal space very dramatically on public transport with mp3 players, sunglasses, reading material, phones or if lucky enough, a friend. This particular fellow deigned to pat the man in front of him on the knee quite jovially. He was loud and spoke to people who were over a metre away. I even utilised the classic technique of looking out the window to ensue I was not dragged into this odd display.

When he got off all of the people around exchanged glances of disbelief and mirth. We had all been baffled by this man's demeanour. I'm sure those closest were genial about the meeting, but like me I would assume they'd have some anxiety as to whether he would have a funny turn. If he was unpredictable enough to engage in such an exchange, what else would he be capable of? There was an instant where he flailed an arm rather theatrically and yelled irritably at a young man attempting to come down the aisle with a suitcase that exhibited a nasty side of his character.

This seems fairly boring and prosaic but I wanted to document my observations about personal space and general boundaries. If there's a purpose it seems talking to strangers is acceptable. Two girls asked me for directions earlier in the day and I didn't know them, yet acquiesced without a further thought. Admittedly I was sending them away from me, so had they been weird girls I would have been fine anyway. Although with that said, some purposes can go quite wrong. At the bus stop an odd, drunk and wet looking young man was asking everyone for a "ciggie". He was apparently too drunk to understand nobody smoked.

[note: why, when people ask for cigarettes, is the negative response usually "I don't smoke" rather than a mere "no"? Seems to me like a subconscious moral highground]

From his appearance you could tell that you wanted to stay away from this creep. He was leering at a lady with her baby. The same lady had been leered at by a man whilst actually ON the bus; a man who had interjected into my conversation with an old school friend at what most would deem unacceptable intervals. As soon as the interrupter spoke of being stoned I knew we wouldn't be paying much more attention to him. Speaking openly about taking drugs with people you don't know, especially in public places, is something I have also noted to be a significant "no-no". So I felt bad for this poor woman with her baby who appeared to be all alone at the bus stop. I was just lucky that I had someone to stand with while I waited for my mum.

jaundice

My response to former idealism

Of course we lost everything in the fire. My horse perished. I'm only seven years old, how was I to understand? Mum stayed behind hosing down everything she could think of til flames leapt at our verandah. Then she came to join us at nan's. I never even got to ride that horse - hadn't even named it. Now it's just a carcass in a burnt paddock. Maybe we'll go back tomorrow if it's safe. At least the telly's working again, not that there's anything on.

vi-oooh-laaay-tion

After a week of immense heat, minimal thought and Ryan Adams having a hissy fit with tech guys, I woke on Monday to find my computer completely missing. It was stolen from my bedroom whilst I was asleep. Being human I had erred to leave my door unlocked that night - in fact as I have done for about the last eight months - and the perpetrator had obviously just waltzed in of their own accord and, finding that I was asleep (read: dead to the world), procured a shiny new piece of technology.

This loss is worsened by the fact that this isn't actually the first computer that has been treated badly in my care. In June, my sister spilt milk on my first Macbook. It stopped working and was later replaced by insurance. After this latest fiasco I found myself quite enraged and still in utter disbelief that something like this could happen. But then mum called me and said that we can get MORE INSURANCE. So I feel pretty happy about that.

In other news on Saturday I went to see Ryan Adams and the Cardinals. They were brilliant but did not play long enough for anyone's liking. I actually thought it was a joke when they walked offstage at 10.30 after playing for about 70 minutes. I got some decent pictures on both my phone and my camera so I imagine they will be forthcoming for perusal. Also last night I went to see Born Ruffians at the East Brunswick Club because I figured that there was no point remaining in my hovel when I could be enjoying Canadians who wouldn't scratch my arm. I imagine pics will surface of that concert also.

I've been toying with the idea of turning this blog into something actually worthwhile reading. Like actually review some of the gigs I go to and post the reviews here. Imagine, a blog with a purpose! How alarming.

Finally, if anyone has a place for me to live this year, just put your hand up. Then put it down. Then put your hands back on your keyboard and tell me via the typed word. Then I will love you.

note: The previous entry is my latest idea for a movie, though admittedly it is inspired by real life. But I can't explain it without sounding like a complete, malicious bitch so I'm not going to try.