I got fired

Yeah that's right.

They "let me go".

So I went

I packed my suitcase and grabbed my bestie and we hit the road Thelma and Louise style.



We went to Inverloch and sat in the sun.


We talked about all the boys and girls we know and listened to Neko Case really loud. The Aloe Vera plant was in flower and this is very special, so we took photos of it.


Then Cara took a picture of me in the sun.


And we tried to take pictures of both of us


Then Cara went and had a shower and left me alone with her camera.






We ate curry for dinner in the orange cafe and drank cheap wine until we were thrown out at 10 past 10.

Being unemployed is kinda fun. Now I have a myspace and tonight I'm going to play bingo at the Terminus. See ya at Meredith ... or Centrelink.

Baby, I'm BORED!

I'm going to get busy.

Here is my to do list for this week:

Read more
Write more
Blob more
Buy a tent for Meredith (Yes-yes, I'm actually going this year!)
Become a supercool electronic DJ (Simon might teach me for beer)
Make homebrew for summer
Go back to Uni
Apply for volunteer work at ACMI ( I have admin, hospitality and cinema studies skills, surely there is something I can do?)
Get a haircut.
Don't get a Myspace.

We went to the beach II

"No. I won't let you go to work in this dark mood.
You can't answer phones while you are in this state.
What would your invoices say?"

--Luke (some midweek morning)

We went to the beach

See




More pictures comming shortly,

more writings to follow suit.

Cara is back.

LOOP TIME.

or

ONE YEAR LATER:

"A clean slate."

Cara came back from the continent. She simply appeared beside the bar at the cafe on Saturday morning, browned by some far away summer. I nearly ignored her for a sink of dirty dishes. Has it really been a year? Feels like only a couple of weeks and a 1/2... REALLY?!.

We saw Snakes on a Plane, ( not at Nova because it turns out it was never playing there). I thought it was dull. It didn't seem to make much sense really and could have ended after the first snake bite. Cara fell asleep. Jetlag. But it was good to drag the boys to Ruebebelons and alienate everyone by talking Literature, Philosophy and Communications; revisiting the undergraduate wankers within us.

It's been eight months of me following Luke around. Eveyday I wake-up in the bottom of an even deeper and darker well of love and there's no ladder to climb out, and I think I'll just stay down here for a while.

Kim (Luke's Kim) says time runs in a loop. The same things happen over and over again in a pattern that's not entirely unpredictable. He also says that eveything that is going to happen already has and is.

My boss cleared the blackboard wrote "A clean slate" in big chalk letters where the wine list used to be. I stared at it for nearly an hour when it got quiet, trying to draw a significant parrallel and apply meaning from those words to anything in my own life at all... but I am glad for everything...Well isn't that nice?

Wait...what just happened?

Or

Nothing happens, nothing happens and then everything happens:

There goes August.

We had a party.
In a basement, filled with lights, and sheets of reflective silver paper on the ceiling. (Stacia knows how to decorate with what's at hand). When you look up it's like looking down into a pond at yourself, only backwards and you don't have to worry about drowning. We danced to elctro trancy beats with the drums turned up at my request till 10am. We all fell down in a heap of crazy love with one another, and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Finally over the edge.

The sun came up as usual, but I had not seen the sky so close to white before. My heart still hurts a little when I recall wet plaster faces and such grit teeth grins. I think of tortured Picasso ladies and my frightening ambivilance towards them.

Then I had an interview.

Then I got the job.

Then I had my own birthday to contend with.

And now I have two jobs and am 23.

But it could be worse, I could be Simon. He just woke up and found himself with three jobs (a different Simon, not my Simon, not Simon O, and not Colette's dad).

Oh and here is a tag I had to beg for:


1. Grab the nearest book.

2. Open the book to page 123.

3. Find the fifth sentence.

4. Post the text of the next 4 sentences along with these instructions.

5. Don’t you dare dig for that “cool” or “intellectual” book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.

Angela Carter's Wise Children is on my desk next to me. I just bought it secondhand a couple on weeks ago, haven't had a chance to open it yet. Here goes...

"Therefore he gave me Culture.

I balked at Proust.

His sweet, befuddled head; that faded golden hair; the large, light eyes with the long lashes; the short, straight nose like the nose of Daisy's Persian cat; the soft, weak mouth indictive of that guitly sensuality so charateristic, I've found, of the North American temperment - that is, they like it, all right, but, all the same, they think it's going tp give them hairy palms.

Attracted as he was to my conspicuous unrefinment, all the same Irish thought it would only make sleeping with me all right in the end if we could read Henry James, together, afterwards, and I was nothing loath because there'd been precious little time for book-learnng in my short life as I'd been earning a living from age twelve and sometimes Irish, when he remembered that, would forgive me everything."

hmmm...

Typical.


Goodnight all.


PS, Come see Snakes on a Plane with me on Saturday night at Nova, I will probably be drunk/ at my best.

I am taking sick leave

I have a little bug. It feels like a little furry animal curled up tight inside my head, stirring occasionaly and weeping softly. Her tears come out of my nose and make my own eyes ache. I carry her with me to job interviews, sedating her with little blue pills that make me dumb.

I am getting good at talking about myself now, I almost can't feel it.

A call centre for a financial services company? How will I ever remember all the things about things I don't care much for?
How could I ever care enough? Or maybe that is just how one copes.

Oh look, a distraction!

I Fell Down

8:33am Friday - I have an appointment with a temp agency. I wear my pointy heels.


Kahdoompft!


I hit the ground running for the train.

Luke, re last night's telephone converation: "I don't understand, how does any one person manage to hit all elbows and knees in one fall? Why don't you put your hands out in front of you like everyone else?"

What can I say? It's a gift.

When I fall, I fall good. I make it big and I make it loud. I groan and growl out like an animal and I love it. It is BAD, it is UNLADYLIKE! It is a surprise that frightens a little. What a thrill! My loss of control, my mistake, spontanious and in front of everyone just to prove.

"Utterly real, grandously embarrassing, four and a half stars!" - The General Public

There is a little pain, I guess. People mostly pretend not to notice; they have a train to catch; don't want to get caught in my unsightly choreography. A few boys stand back where they think I can't see them, smirking to one another. They try to hide the laugh that is mine from me, but I'm stealing it back. I'm crawling up off my belly grinning, I'll keep the bruises for a while but it is still 8:33am and the worst that I had ever imagined has already happened.

Eyes glaze over

I am still here, sort of. Just avoiding the easy slide into this self-indulgent, self-destructicve place of lazy writing. Time to take off and start plotting. Need to obtain and retain some standards of some form.

Or maybe I should just 'let myself go'?

Oh, oh, there I go again.

The temptation to get drunk on and drown in your own reflection here is far too great.

I'm going out and I'm not coming back til I have something to say.

!

THERE

Ouch, I have lost myself again

I don't really know what I will do with all this life and it appears there is an awful lot of it left.
I don't want to be my mother, but what am I going to do instead?
Half way through lunch I noticed the weevils in my cous cous.

I think I might break

I've been watching the finale episode of Six Feet Under and I have that last song in my head, going round and round.
Help...
... it's doing things to me ... I think...

Simon me gave a run down on all the behind-the-scenes technical aspects and difficulties they must have faced in it's making; like why it goes all jumpy and sped up when they switch from film to some kind of HD. I wanted to share my literary annalysis of David's confrontation with his red-hooded demon, but no one cares. Where are you Cara, you would care, where are you?

Luke says I shouldn't try to apply a literary annalysis to everything; like Vice Magazine, for example. - This is something we argue about, we did it again in Black Cat just yesterday. - I say you can, that everything is a text, and that reading into it all too much is what makes us human... But yes, I do see how some might think it can be a dangerous and silly thing to compare your own life with a story...maybe... and so is smoking ... and so is keeping a blob. Cheers all those things that we might do secretly or alone sometimes.

Well I'll be Rooned

I went for a few quiet drinks with friends last night at the Yacht Club and then Black Cat.
Then I woke up at 6am and saw Death with a bottle of Jaegermeister inviting to sit on his lap for a bit. I declined the offer and he left me with a complimentary headache, sore eyes and what I'm pretty sure was an enormous moth with a brick tied to it's ankle frigging about inside my stomach. I wish I'd just said yes.

Three drinks and I'm out.
How does that happen?

Maybe I should have eaten more... but my boss told me I was becoming a bit of a fatty the other day.

I just got told today I am not going to be a mailroom clerk too. I feel ruined, RUINED, rooned.

Yeah, oh woe is me etc.

But really, what else is this for?

This afternoon, Luke, dragging me by the elbow along Sydney Rd to a cosy lunch at Thom Phat that would only distract me from my cold bath in hung-over misery, I thought, "Death, come back, give me a hug and let me wallow with you." And you know what, I thought he just might, but then Luke gave me a hug and my Pad Thai arrived.

The Blue Velvet Fog Stopped Working Yesterday.

I was on my way to a job interview and I was going to be late.

My brother and I had to walk along Main Rd together. I carried my good shoes in a brown paper bag and let important papers fall from my folder like the last and forgotton few autumn leaves as I stuggled to keep up and my mobile went nuts.

ME: Simon, this is crap, I feel poor, I feel like that family in the "Grapes of Wrath" carrying all this stuff and looking for work, it's embarrassing.

SIMON: Yes, I hate walking along Main Rd too; I can feel everyone having a good look at me as they drive passed.


A car goes passed with a yelling head sticking out at us.


SIMON: Why do they do that, I can never understand what it is that they are saying?

ME: I bet a bus comes passed right now, we should have got a bus!


A bus goes passed


ME: Fuck


An old lady gives me an evil.


SIMON: Stop swearing!

ME: Not you. (To the old lady)

Simon I'm getting all sweaty, Simon I'm going to be smelly in my interview!


We are arriving at the station

SIMON: Don't worry you have fortyfive minutes on the train to air off, you'll be fine, here, change your shoes and I'll take your old ones home with me. Take my ticket, it'll save time buying one. Don't foget to call them on the train and apologise for being late and don't worry, you'll be fine. Goodluck!



I like my little brother, somewhere we must have changed places, he looks after me now. He's always the calm, sensible one when I'm busy constructing quaint moments of crisis. Thank you Simon.

What I need

I just got back from an interview with a recruiting agency. I told them I was hoping for "...An entry level position with the opportunity to develop, (...) I'm really hoping for something like front-of-house reception and associated administrative tasks, (...) for a company with a creative edge would be a bonus." They are offering me an interview for a position as a mailroom clerk for a law firm (guh!). I wouldn't mind so much if I didn't know I could make more money pulling beers and banging out lattes and which I'd rather be doing anyway. It's a shame, I simply cannot see a future in my brief affair with the hospitality (so-called) "industry", and I was just getting to know my wines, but, it's time to move on.

I was feeling a bit lost,
So, I took Dell's advice;
I tried it.

• Jen needs to have a session or two with a therapist.
• Jen needs to be a My Little Pony!
• Jen needs a break.
• Jen needs your help
• Jennifer needs a cold shower
• Jennifer needs a smack daddy
• Jen needs to get a life
• Jenny needs to demonstrate more self control
• Jenny needs to curb her socializing in class
• DJ JEN NEEDS YOU!!!
• Jennifer needs to be in a mental health facility RIGHT NOW
• Jen needs friends
• Jen needs him
• Jen needs a new gun petition
• Jen needs more time to work through her part in the dissolution
• Jen needs to stop shopping
• Jen needs to do something with her physical self
• Jen needs to eat a meal
• Jen needs the money
• Jen needs to get over it
• Jen needs to forgive her mother
• Jen needs to find a self righteous, conspicuous "I'm better than you" charitable position.
• Jen needs your feedback


It's true, I do need to be a My Little Pony and in an "I'm better than you" position.

I new gun petition wouldn't go astray either.

But, some of this seems rather insensitive, why does my google needs list have to so immediatly call my mental stability into question?

"Smile..."

"You look like a dropped peach."
- Luke



(lvl. 3, carpark overlooking Nepean Highway,
Southland,
Tuesday morning)

People still wear cargo pants, wtf

Lovely Sunday night.

Began with Distress Call at the Rob Roy. Awesome. A funny old man made his way to the front and danced by himself with his eyes closed. I'd like to say this was a beautiful moment but all I could think was, "Oh, how cliche!" and roll my eyes to myself in my head. Aside from the old man, without hesistation, I say Tim was the standout star of the gig; I like it when rockstars wear their glasses, he had the sexiest guitar, he can really really play and was the only one who's guitar matched his outfit.

Met Anastacia, Simon and Georgia at Black Cat and discovered Miso. Miso, a gorgeous array of dubby- trip hoppy sounds joined by a darling, almost jazz, singer who dances and charms while supported by various strings and the sweetest percussion. We stayed for this and we'll probably come back for another dose. If you have nothing to do every second Sunday night, have little money and I don't know, maybe your pillow is too soft for early nights and giving you that sinking feeling, come out ad see ( and maybe see me see) Miso at Black Cat, it's a really good idea.

Went to the Yacht Club because they are our friends and no matter what we do there it never costs us more than $20 all together for some reason. Good for us, huh, maybe bad for business. Oh well, it was grand. Or at least, having been drinking since 5pm, we thought we were grand. Luke began to take particular interest in other patrons fashion sensibilities, when a rather ordinary individual made an appearance and shouted something suitably forgettable Luke exclaimed back and over the top "People still wear cargo pants, what the fuck?!". I know it must have been a good night because at the time we thought this was the sharpest pinnacle of wit and finnished the night somewhere around here laughing hysterically. HA Ha ha!

And also:
We have a new friend, Matt, from Louisiana (yes, it's true, a real live American just like on tv) Yay!.

Yeah, I'm kinda bored today.

So here is another picture


of my favourite leg


pretty fancy


huh

Get a haircut

First I thought CAKE, then I thought PINATA, then I thought, no, let's do a DRESS. But do you think I actually did any of these things? Of course not. And that, strange creature, is the beauty of the blog. Try it. Many things can be said and written, promises, musings and histories, they all get writ down. Whether or not they ever occur or mount to much is not in the PD of the blog and neither I nor the blog will be held accountable for your virtual disapointment. The plain truth has always belonged in another stratosphere that I'd rather not contend with and prefer not to acknowledge it's possible existence.

And anyway, Caitlin's party didn't need my baking and craft corner intruding, it was just dandy in itself. Lots of good people came out of the woodwork and danced to Madonna. Something got broken, somebody fell down, somebody threw up on Ewan's slab, all the prerequisites that are required so you know you are having a party were met early on. It was great, I want to do it again. Caitlin, lets have tea on friday, ok?

I'm waiting by the phone again today. Why do they tell me that they love me and then never call?

I think I need a haircut.
"Get a haircut" - that's what my Dad told me to say to Jeff Kennet if I ever saw him. I think it was for when I was performing with my primary school band in Melbourne Parliment House. Shame, Jeff never showed up. I wrote him a letter once, somethng about not needing a Grande Prix and could he consider improving hospital facilities and the Elephant encloser at the zoo. Not sure if it ever got sent. Do you think he will come back? No, me neither.

Here is a slightly out-of-focus picture of my cat.

I didn't get the job

It was between me and one other person.
The one other person had some admin experience. (Pfft!)
Experience schmeariance, I say.

So my life still looks like this:



At least until next week. The same company wants to interview me on Monday for another position they have going.

But I don't even care anymore,
I think it is because of this:



Also there is Caitlin's party on Saturday, and since there have been suggested Napoleon Dynamite overtones to this apparently non themed night of frivolity, I don't know, maybe I'll bake her a cake...Or better still, a pinata!

A Room for an Interview

A couple of weeks ago I sent an email to a recruiting agency stating that I am looking for an entry level position as an administration assistant. Two hours later I got a phone call that asked me if I could come into their offices for an interview and would I consider working for them. I got dressed up, bought the pointiest healed boots I could find, I made sure my hair was extra neat and smooth, no whispy bits anywhere. I imagined myself as a bubbly, outgoing , straight thinking young woman from Brighton who likes house beats and cosmopolitans, only. I considered my character's aim and desires for the upcoming scene. I was ready for a little impro.

And I went.

They put me in an empty room without without any magazines to read. I looked out the window at a beige-brown brick wall for a really long time, I thought of a lame joke to tell about the view but then thought better of it, this is serious. I looked at my reflection, but tried not to annalyse it too much. I got nervous and practised my Laban.

A knock at the door followed quickly by an entry of someone who looked just like me now. We did firm eye contact handshakes and everyone was very polite and smiley. I talked about a girl who likes working with people, under pressure, and gets excited by the word "TEAM". Another handshake and I'm in front of a computer doing a "Skills Test". PCs, are different to Macs, huh. Not to worry, they still love me... why?

Another handshake and I'm off to another office in a different street, in a similar room without any books or magazines. We talk really vaguely and in officey jargon about the job. I still have no idea what it is I actually do, but they promise me lots of training and social events. Handshake.

A few days later and I'm doing a "Psych Test" and a "Metric Test"*. I am supervised by a boy who looks like he's wearing his Dad's suit, but he gives me what I take as being a look of sympathy and says "awesome" everytime I answer a question, so I smile for him and we talk about the weather and how strange/intimidating the building is when it is all over. Handshake, slight stumble backwards.

Yesterday, another room, another interview. I spoke with many managers and other people in similar positions that I could soon be in. Everyone was just so nice, I felt as if I might be invited to go out out clubbing with them at any moment.

And that's how I got to be sitting at home, just waiting for the phone to ring, and slightly hoping in won't.

I am a little frightened of becoming a nobody in an office. A little frightened of becoming my mother.

Last night, Mum told me that she once studied Literature, Theatre, Film and Television at Uni, like me, but things happened and she had to give it up. I had not heard much of this before and I worry that these things might be genetic.









* I thought they might measure me here. Dissapointingly, it was just more questions.

I Feel Better Now

I got my special cord thingy for my phone. I have to go through virtual PC to use it though, doh.

But by golly gosh this is fun

Please

I just need a moment

I have little energy today for blogging.

I have been somewhat unwell. Half just wanting to die, half concerned I just might.
And also, I'm waiting for the chance to buy a special thing that connects to my phone so I can upload pictures that will illustrate my stories, because what is a blog without any pictures?...

...Well, it could be Nanashi's blog.

I think I will just hand it to the keeper today.

So may I introduce you to the enigmatic and most divine,Nanashi Travelling. No pictures, just words, good and well arranged ones. And please, take your time.

Memememememmememememememememmmmmm!

I am getting into the habit of taking lots of pictures of myself with my shiny, new phone.

Look, it's me!

Went to Port Melbourne and got some Sand in my Shoes

I found myself maudlining along a beach yesterday morning (strange).

Had driven my favourite, darling creature to a job interview and then realised that for at least an hour I was going to feel a bit lost. I was alone in Port Melbourne with no purpose (of all places). I walked towards the beach and trudged though the sand beside water inappropiatly in suede boots. I watched personal trainers and their trainees get stuck on stairs, forever walking up one or two steps only to reverse back down and try again. I kicked into a great pile of pippy shells. A small dog did a circle around me as it passed with it's owner. I picked up a few shells that stood out, still pippies, but in colours I like. An orange, fat man got rather undressed for the weather and public and entered the water without a flinch or flicker of self-consciousness. I looked for sea glass, but didn't find any. I lay my black velevet jacket on the sand underneath me and curled up with a book. I dozed off, just a bit.

I dream-thought about the beaches in Scotland and then about Dubrovnik.

When I woke up I was still in Port Melbourne. It was very quiet. The trainers and trainees were gone. the dog and his man had moved on, and the orange fat man was now just a head gliding across top of the water, back and forth in straight lines. I got up and ran back to my car. It had been over an hour and I was due for a parking ticket. I moved Fog to the other side of the road and found my familar. We ate chicken on the beach together and considered the seagulls warily. When we were severly outnumbered we moved to a cafe that served very well suited men and women with extra pointy shoes. Maybe some of the women's faces didn't quite match their hands and maybe I could have felt sorry for them for that, but then, they had a rather-nice-for-monday-morning bottle of wine join them at the table and seemed quite content with it all.

Luke observed that there were ships carrying tonnes of cargo appearing out of nowhere and then disapearing just the same. Nobody else seemed to care about this, much like his observation of peacocks waiting at Alphington Station.

Such an odd place to put a beach.

Dear Diary

We went to the Supper Club and now I have no money.

So many parties, much of them based around the pretty people of Polly.

A previously postponed Polly Christmas Party was okay, but I had to go home and have a lie down rather earlier than my usual sign-out time - never do cope well when the drinks are free and this time the shots were coming out furiuosly on little trays.

I took my first Sunday off in months so I could actually go out on a Saturday night (Woo!). So when I was let off work @ 11pm Saturday I grabbed my bandit mask and fencing sword and headed for the big smoke like I imagined everyone else must do on a Saturday night. I arrived late but well armed for Leigh's Last Shift at Polly Party, which in the style of John Farhnam's Finale Tour, was really just the beginning of a long succession of farewell Leigh gatherings. Got to taste Cristal here (ridiculous).

A Superhero House Warming for Annastasia's Simon moving into Paul's. Just caught the very end of it at around sometime when the sun was rising after Leigh's Last Shift party. Bandit mask and fencing sword came in better use here.

Had drinks at Comfortable Chair last Wednesday, got to meet Chris's lovely girlfriend and didn't have to talk about the Commonwealth Games. I didn't get that comfortable in my chair though - the crowed was crap, apart from us of course, and some guy behind the bar asked me if I'd like a glass of milk (grrr!).

I'm sure there has been more but I forget; only just recovered from a late night @ the Supper Club. We were celebrating Chris (a different Chris) turning 30 and I was probably saying goodbye to Leigh again and again. Anyway, I learnt something that night that I'm sure is only going to destroy me financially in the future, and that is: Wine is really, really nice when you say to a waiter "here, take this money, I don't need it, and because I know nothing about wine, HERE! (handing them the wine list) You choose!" And that ladies and gentlemen is how you get yourself a really nice bottle of wine that surprises you with a Leunig cartoon on the label. (How cute!) But You must be careful when drinking wine if you are even just a little like me. Too much wine makes you think you own the world. I however, was fortunate enough to have somebody like Matt there to help me. Put me back down where I belong like a professional. Did that weird grabbing thing just above my knee, and in seconds I was on the floor, and hit my head on the table on my way back up, Ha! What fun hey?!

Oh, one last thing: Goodbye Leigh, hope Edinburgh is good to you, Bon Voyage and all that goodhappy travelling stuff. I'm Sorry I cannot come to the airport, it's a clash with Coheed and Cambria, but I promise I will still be waving to your plane this evening anyways. Look out for me if you can, I'm small I know, but I will be wearing my fluoro orange skirt so you should be able to still spot me. Goodbye, goodbye...oh (sniff).

Breakfast with Champions

I've been doing some thinking. Thinking I might take a left turn. Might not go back to uni this year, might get a healthy 9-5 job for a bit. Save up some real monies and go for a wander.

Had breakfast at Montsalvat with Luke yesterday morning. He talks of watercolours, concept bands and novel ideas. I let him wear my sunglasses, makes him look like Kurt Cobain at first, then a regular beatnik and then Warhol. Then he stops talking and actually starts writing his first chapter. Gets his guitar fixed and starts packing the watercolours to take to the Grampians. And I'm coming too, we're heading to the Grampians for a few days, leaving Tuesday...I could make another attempt with charcoal, probably appropriate, but somehow it always ends up a smudgy black cloud...No, things are a little different now.

It was V day

So we headed for the hills... Well Badger Creek at least. Luke and I had a lovely picnic, despite the very distinct lack of badgers. Had the park almost completely to ourselves, maybe just a few grannies dotted here and there, probably left behind since the departure of the last tour bus. I made a cake, a chocolate fudge cake, and applied my extensive stencil art skills in the form of icing sugar and heart shape, we ate it too. After meandering through Healesville, having an obligatory drink at the Healseville hotel we strolled into a nice little bottle shop that boasted an assortment of fine local and interantional wines. Thought we might find some cheap plonk to impress my folks with. We did, and very nice it was too. But also it was revealed to me once more that the world is really much more modest in size that it outwardly appears. We met Bec and Ben in the bottle shop. Bec is from Kangaroo Ground, (which makes us neighbours really) and contemplating dinner at Ginger Garlic in my hometown. Ben, it turns out, is great mates with Tom, Polly Tom, or rather, no-longer-at-Polly Tom. Ben was a bearer of a little bad news, Polly is changing it seems, the end of an era for many I think, sad really. But as an aside; Luke noted, and I think he might be right; we'll probably bump into Bec and Ben again sometime, there was that feeling, you know? Ah well, we'll see, hey.

"We should all be working with dogs"

Longtime hey?
I'm sorry Kim, I realise now that it IS my responsibility to distract you from whatever it is you get paid to do in that shiny air conditioned environment.
Where have I been?
Hanging out with a cowboy who looks remarkably like the Milky Bar Kid of course.
Getting to know Brunswick quite intimately in the process. I even have my own blockbusting video card there now.
Wearing the same dress for 3 days and noting that it is getting as black as the soles of my feet. Yes, getting MESSY Dell, you would be impressed! Playing in the park until the rest of the world gets up and passes through on their way to work. Walking back to boyfiend's place at sunrise. Catching a glimpse of a smacky ho ho reflected in the window of Esprit and realising "oh that's me" before adjusting the plastic rose in my hair so that it is just so.

HAPPY INVASION DAY!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIMON!
Like most days of late, it was HOT!
Went to the Corner, it's changed huh. Had to wait for a 5 yr old to finish with the pool table before we could have a go.

Things are grand, see:





***
Sitting on a rooftop yesterday evening, I watched a trail of blacksmoke creep accross the sky just beneath the clouds. But then it got dark quickly and it was almost impossible to see.

Taken

So we went to the zoo. The monkies were ok but the elephants were the best. And now a boy is painting an elephant on his wall. Look.


Pictures are a bit dodge I know, camera phones are not fantastic and I admit I am no pro with the techno.

It's just in beginning stages, but isn't it clever? I secretly think the elephant should be white, but since my demands for a bed-in were met with parallels being drawn between Yoko and I I'm keeping my mouth shut about artistic pursuits for a bit. Don't want to break up the band.

More updates on interior decorating of the studio and other schemes to come. Stay tuned folks.

Hi Cara

Thanks for these pretty pics.My blob's a little thirsty for pictures at the moment, sad cos that's my favourite thing about other peoples' blogs. Soon I will get a digi camera, don't worry, and then there will be less words and more pictures, mostly of me, and my feet, you can be sure.



A Christmas dinner with your family with you not there except via satelite was intriguing. Like celebrating a ghostly presence really. Oh, I'm becoming morbid again, I'm sorry. I have a Friday 13th exam tomorrow, I'm freaking out just a tad. It's for my Humour, Comedy and Culture subject, don't laugh. I shouldn't be here really, should be memorising Freud's half-baked ramblings on humour, ready to churn them out with gusto when they ask me "What's so great about Woody Allen anyway" - Seriously these are the kind of essay questions I tackle these days. This is rock the world (to sleep) research.

Postmodern/Postcaring
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