Hey. It feels silly to write here now. Shortly I will make a new journal, and in it I will put bits and pieces that I have written and drawn. Because I have been doing those things. Does anyone in Perth know of a cheap/free scanner that I can use? Because until I find that it will be dodgy pictures from Alex's camera phone.

Anyway, I just don't feel the impetus to write about my day to day life anymore. I'm not sure if this has any significance. But, for the faintly curious(!):

For the first time in my life I have a job that I actually enjoy, working with people that I actually like and contributing to something I actually believe in. It's pretty cool huh. Specifically, I'm working at Subiaco Library, purveying books to the unwashed masses. It is a really lovely library in a really fucking yuppy suburb, so it is very well funded and swish. My favourite bit of the library is the huge huge huge mural painted by Shaun Tan that we have in the children's section - it's fucking beautiful! If you're a Perthite you should definitely make the effort and come in and have a look at it.

So I've decided that I definitely want to be a librarian and when I go back to uni that's what I'm going to aim towards. It feels nice to have a goal. I haven't really had one of those before.

Aaaaaaand on Saturday I am going to be in a parade! The pride parade. Fun times. I'm not particularly a parade type but I'm going along with the Freedom Centre crew (where I volunteer). I will be swinging poi. Yay.

That's all I feel like writing. I'll let you know about my 'making things' journal when I make it. Love to all, hope you're well! xxxxxxx.

Hiya.

There is an art installation in my bedroom! Art! In my bedroom! Clancy is a bit obsessed with assasinations at the moment, and he has begun a series of assasination pieces, beginning with J.F.K. on the wall of his kitchen. He asked me to pick an assasination and I went for my favourite, the assasination Leon Trotsky. On the night of my housewarming he delivered not just a piece, but an installation. I love it! I will try and get a picture of it up here some time soon. The best bit is that Clancy is emphatically not an artist. Clancy deplores art and it is a frequent subject of his rants. This has come out of nowhere! He insists that it is not art, but it totally is.

I'm shortly to start an illustrious career on the checkout at Coles Supermarket. Now, when old friends and relatives ask "so what are you doing these days?" I will answer "well, I'm studying at university, but my real passion is my career at the ColesMyer corporation, where I am assured a glittering, successful future if I put in the hard work." The other day I had to spend six (paid) hours on a bullshit induction website, reading things like "Coles encourages diversity by supporting the gay and lesbian communities" and then answering questions like

"Your colleague tells a racist joke. Should you:
a) laugh heartily and tell the one about the Queen and the black man's cock,
b) kick your colleague in the genital area and scream "HATECRIME!" or
c) tell your colleague that you're not really comfortable with her/his racist humour and if it's not too much trouble could they refrain from saying that sort of thing at work, because it's nice to be nice and maybe we should set up a quiche roster for friday morning teas?"

I think, really, the whole six hours could have been boiled down to one question - "Are you desperate enough to put up with our bullshit? a)Yes b)No c) Yes but I will blog/make art/write anonymous articles in zines about how much I hate my job."

I think I am done here. It is raining outside and I have to put shortbread biscuits in the oven and clean the kitchen for an impending rent inspection.

x.

My favourite thing on the internet at the moment is Peewee Herman's public service announcement about crack. Why does such a thing exist? It is my favourite celebrity endorsement since seeing Pele do the ad for viagra. (I loved the bit at the end, when Pele said "talk to your doctor - I would". DON'T YOU BE THINKING THAT PELE HAS ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION.)

Well, now that I've effectively lowered the tone of this post, I'm going to talk about Peewee Herman and his (implied) erection. Ages ago, Peewee Herman was arrested for having a wank in a dirty movie theatre, right? I was shocked when I learnt this fact, because I always assumed that wanking was what people did in dirty movie theatres, and it seems strange that it is illegal. Why would anyone go and see a dirty movie if not to have a wank?! Clearly I am not a wordly woman. I have much to learn.

My second mother was kind enough to buy me a ticket to a lecture given by Peter Singer on Tuesday. I arrived early and walked into the building at the same time as the Singmeister, and he raised his eyebrows at me. I am still pondering the significance of this gesture.

The lecture was entitled The Ethics of What We Eat and I can't say I found it particularly enlightening, though Peter Singer was compassionate and logical. It was a fairly cursory examination of the ethics of eating animals/animals products, and touched briefly on the topics of buying fairtrade, organic and local produce. I understand that any one hour lecture is going to be fairly broad, and not particularly challenging. I just can't help but feel that most of an audience that is able and prepared to spend almost $40 on a lecture by Peter Singer, about the ethics of food, will have walked out of that lecture feeling a bit smug and self-congratulatory*, because they already buy that fancy goat poo coffee from the Oxfam shop, and the fruit draw of their fridge is brimming with organic limes, and they only eat roast beef once a month and then it is organic beef from organic cows who feasted only on the finest organic daisies and frolicked in vast, undulating, glowing green (organic) fields.

I guess I just hate that strong ethical viewpoints are the privilege of the rich, and that idealism so often so frquently leads to big ol' circle jerks. I am sounding like a stroppy 16 year old who has read some Marxist theory and has decided that society is bullshit, man, it's just BULLSHIT, so I'll stop now. But it is bullshit, man.

Moving day this saturday! Excited.

*I felt smug that I am mostly vegetarian, but hypocritical because I still eat fish, and if I really had the courage of my convictions I would be vegan. (I just love cheese so much.) I felt annoyed that for the most part I can't afford fancy organic and fairtrade stuff, but smug because hopefully I will have an organic vegetable patch going in the next few moths. Mostly I felt like I already knew all this stuff, and that made me cranky.

I am in a band now! It started as a Tom Waits cover band, but I guess that's been extended to covering whatever we please. At the moment we're working on Off To Sea Once More (a traditional sea shanty) and I love how it sounds! Well, I will, when I get my shit together with the accordion part. It is a bit terrifying for me, I have never been in a band and I haven't played any musical instrument with other people since clarinet in primary school, and then I could make mistakes without anyone really noticing. With the accordion I am providing the rhythm, it's like I'm the anchor, so when I fuck up it's a big deal! But I will be fine and dandy after I have practised a lot this week. I am so pleased with us - this song has Julian on drums, Griff on violin and vocals, Clancy on banjo and me on accordion - no guitar. Sadly Griff is departing in a few months, to take up a scholarship at a university in Texas. Selfish bastard.

I saw the Beasts Of Bourbon last night, and they were white hot, and I am signing the lease for my new place tomorrow, and the semester is so close to being over I can feel it in my bones, and I am happy.

Sorry this is poorly written, I am saving all the good, juicy bits of my brain for the essay I'm writing. xx.

In 3 weeks I am moving into a sweet old house on Vincent St! Thank fuckin' christ! I was just settling in for a typical round of existential crisis inducing rejection from real estate agents, but the first application Alex & I put in was accepted. I think her being a public servant is like a golden ticket in the rental market. She also owns the Press Gang series on DVD - she is a good value housemate! Also a lovely person.

The place has 3 bedrooms and it's $220 a week. If you or someone (nice) that you know would be interested in a large room with wooden floor boards (and maybe a fireplace), on Vincent St, Mt. Lawley (near Beaufort St), let me know. We haven't decided what the plan is for that room as yet, but I may as well put some feelers out there.

I have been stressed out, but I am pleased with how I have coped with the stress. I'm really looking forward to the end of semester, and being in my new house, and the rest of my glittering future.

I hope life is fruitful for you at this time! xx.

First up, I opened up the newspaper the other day to find a big picture of Clancy's wonderful friend Briony smiling up at me! It turns out she and her friend Campbell are getting famous as a result of blog they have, wherein they give each other squiggles to turn into artworks, a la Mr. Squiggle. The Metro (a paper in the U.K.) ran a full page article about the blog and so I think that makes them famous! They totally deserve it, I am very happy for them. Here is Mr. Squiggle: A Duel Between Two Artists. Have a look, the art is lovely!

Hey! I have been a bit busy and stressed out. I am devoting a lot of time to hating real estate agents. I think I hate them more than any other genre of people, and that includes drunken louts and rich people who talk down to people in service industries. There is other stuff that has been stressful but I can't really be bothered going into it.

Here are two things my grandmother has said, because I can't bear the thought of her wisdom being lost to the ages. Keep in my mind that Granny Hazel were in a film, she would be played by Maggie Smith - not far off her performance in Gosford Park. She is also a bit like the embodiment of the spirit of Empire.

Things My Granny Has Said, 1.

This one's quite sweet really. In two months Granny Hazel is leaving for her first trip back to the U.K since she emigrated 20 years ago. She is very idealistic about the U.K. and I think the trip will greatly shock her. I'm digressing. She has a small poodle named Chip who she is very anxious about leaving. The other day she said that she hasn't gotten her suitcase out of the cupboard yet, because she fears that Chip will see the suitcase and "get upset that she's going away."

Things My Granny Has Said, 2.

On Australians, who she has the misfortune to be surrounded by (in the streets! The shops! The dentist's waiting room!): "They're all just so working class."

She doesn't need veiled classism! she goes balls (ovaries?) out. She makes me cringe so badly. You should hear the story about her brother's friend, who brought a Maasai wife back to his English village.

That's all right now.
xoxoxoxo.

Tomorrow is Good Friday. All this really means to me is that I can't buy booze (it's illegal to sell alcohol on Good Friday) and I consider this a travesty! Seriously, Jesus died for somebody's sins, but not mine! I am not that much of a boozehound, but nothing makes me want a drink more than somebody telling me I can't have one. We are a secular nation. It's bullshit, I tell you, BULLSHIT. I've circumvented this law in the past, when my dodgy neighbour supplied me with a bottle of "gin" that really just tasted of ethanol. This year, I took the simple route of buying a gooner today for consumption tomorrow! We are going fishing, so I will drink my goon on the riverside, amidst softly bloating corpses.

These are dark times! This time last year I had just started uni and I was moving house and the same thing is happening this year. It was bad last year, but this year will be okay. I will push on, like a fat little Shetland pony. Packing, reading, packing, going to uni.

This post is so boring! Okay, yesterday a spectacled bear leapt out of the bushes, threw me to the ground, and stood with her paws on my chest, making strange huffing noises. She growled, and her belly shook. She brought her face down to mine, and sniffed cautiously - I remained perfectly still. Eventually, she snorted mucus all over my face, and took her paws off my chest. She apologised profusely - apparently it was some kind of cultural misunderstanding. She helped me up from the ground, and we got to chatting. She's coming around to my new place for a game of backgammon and a spot of gin and tonic. True story.

Step 1: Get your playlist together, put it on random, and play.
Step 2: Write down the first line from the first 20 songs that play or close to it.
Step 3: Post and let everyone you know guess what song the lines come from.
Step 4: Cross out the songs (or similar) when someone guesses correctly

I hope these are all actually right, I couldn't be arsed googling to check.


1. There are birds in the darkness who douse electrical fires, flaring up in nursing homes and the bedrooms of blind men

2. I fear the hearts of men are failing, these are latter days we know

3. Kick off your shoes, join the show, get the blues and let yourself go

4. Come and have a look, beside me, a fine line of tears

5. 1!2!3! It's been going great guns this fiscal year, but I still haven't made it

6. Well I do what I gotta do to make it work, I do what I gotta do Fire Sign by The Gossip, BAM! big_trend

7. I am a poor wayfaring stranger, a-travellin' though this world below Wayfaring Stranger - in this case it was sung by Neko Case, but the song is traditional, so BAM! nosyparker

8. You and me in time, you and me in time, the river flows down, the flowers grow up

9. You always jump and quiver, when you're coming in to land, no runway, no guidance, no nails dug into my hand

10. We're keeping busy, yeah, we're bleeding stones, with our machinations and our palindromes I by Andrew Bird, BAM! zenfishsticks

11. Your body may be gone, I'm gonna carry you in, in my head, in my heart, in my soul Ocean Breathes Salty - Modest Mouse, BAM! nosyparker

12. If you want come on down, down with your bones so white Swansea by Joanna Newsom, BAM zenfishsticks

13. I travelled far and wide through many different times, what did you see there?

14. My pal's name is Foot Foot, he always likes to roam My Pal Foot Foot by The Shaggs, BAM! big_trend

15. The first day that I went to school, yes I remember clearly, my mummy made me leave at home, the spiders I loved dearly

16. I've never seen you so awful, I found you at the bottom of a Russian novel

17. My baby said she wanted some action, I said baby, I can't give you that, I'm a simple man

18. Fast cars, fine ass, these things will pass, they won't get more profound

19. Jump, scrape, break the switches, coast, low, wit da bitches, funky pop, drop, hop, here come the cops

20. Here she comes, you better watch your step, she's going to break your heart in two, it's true Femme Fatale by The Velvet Underground & Nico, BAM! fleurs_du_mal

I don't really know if anyone will get these or not. It doesn't matter, I just wanted to put off reading for uni for a while. Look at all the killer first lines up there!

DON'T PANIC, I'll do the reading right after I've had a little nap.

I have a longstanding habit of picking up scraps of paper that I see on the ground on the offchance that they will have something interesting written on them. Usually the best I can hope for is a shopping list, though the other day I did find a poorly drawn picture of a man with buck teeth and a monobrow. But this morning, this habit paid off big time. I found a wad of paper that had been ripped from a notebook, folded up and thrown onto the street with surprising abandon. I am pleased to present to you, uneditted and unabridged...

(  ...The Hot Horny Babe Saga. )

Brilliant and hilarious and tragic!

On Valentine's Day Julian and Clancy and I drank banana daquiris and I tried my best to convince all of us that relationships are shit anyway.

I just found out about the Hattifatteners, a band with a rotating lineup that includes Cat Power and former members of the Silver Jews, who write songs inspired by Tove Jansson's Moomintroll books. This is pretty much the most exciting thing ever. Though it's slightly disappointing, because I have wanted to do the same thing for a while now. Maybe the concept warrants a whole genre of music? Moomincore?

Last night as I walked past the Art Gallery of W.A. I happened upon a man lying on the ground in roughly the same position as the man in Radiohead's Just video clip. Beside him lay a bicycle, so that he and the bicycle were almost (but not quite) spooning. Fearing that he had fallen off his bike, cracked his skull open and was quietly bleeding to death on the pavement (wear your helmet, kids) I stopped to talk to him.

Me: Are you okay, man?
Him: boozy mumble, boozy mumble, boozy mumble.
Me: ... do you want a hand getting up?
Him: mumble yeah, mumble drunk.

I helped him up and advised him to walk the bike home.

Shit, there was more to that story, but I am so fucking lazy. I'm gonna go finish off Siddhartha and listen to music that makes me feel okay about being a slacker.

I have a wonderful problem. My problem is that there are TOO MANY ladies in this world fantastic bands touring in the next couple of months and I have to work out how best to spend the few shekels that I have to rub together. Seriously, what a great problem to have!

( Waffling about having too many dates to the prom. )

I love this whale in the Thames fluff story! I have the best mental image of this huge majestic animal swimming gracefully through the fetid water, past broken bicycles, chip packets, spent shells, shit stained toilet paper, lost and discarded wedding rings, decomposing teddybears, limp condoms, Dickensian cadavers, mobile phones and so on, with a sort of wise and whalely expression on its face.

Yesterday I spent a buck on a book about gangster films so that I may dismantle it and put the pictures up on my walls. It turns out there are a lot of pictures, and if I were to put them all up on my walls, I would be living in a Gangster House and it would be a bit scary.

So in the spirit of Christmas, or Chanukah, or Kwanza/a, or Festivus, or whatever you want, I would like to offer anyone who wants one a picture of a gangster. He will probably be doing something badass, like shooting a gun, jumping over something, or engaging in a bit of biffo. A few of them are showing their softer sides; smoking cigars, drinking whisky and looking at saucy broads. There are also a number of car chase shots.

I don't mind if I don't know you well, or at all, and I will send them anywhere in the whole wide world. To be clear; if you comment on this post, or email me, I will send you (in the slowpoke paper mail) a picture cut from The Movie Treasury of Gangster Movies*. Primarily because I like sending mail.

*The title should be proof enough (using "movie" twice? COME ON!) that the book, textwise, is a steaming pile of crap with absolutely no insight, which is why I have compunction in pulling it apart for the pictures.

I have an accordion! Well, I have it for a couple of days, then it will be taken away and wrapped up so that I can act surprised on Christmas morning. I have named it Gelsomina (Jel-so-MEE-nah) after the character in La Strada (see icon). It is pale pearly blue with pearly cream keys, and blue semitone keys. It may well be the most wonderful thing I have ever owned. So far I can play two kinds of oom-pah-pahs on the bass buttons, and on the treble keyboard I have figured out Somewhere Over The Rainbow, the theme song from Wallace & Gromit, a waltz that I should be able to identify (but can't), and a few other simple tunes. I can't put treble and bass together at all yet, but I have only had it for two days. I want to figure out some Black Heart Procession songs, a lot of their accordion parts seem relatively easy.

The man we bought it from is a wee treasure. I say bought - get this, we haven't actually paid for it yet. We went to talk to him just before he had to leave for Melbourne for two weeks. When we decided we wanted the accordion he told us to take it now and pay for it upon his return. He doesn't have our contact details or anything! Naturally, my mother and I wouldn't dream of ripping off somebody who has such faith in his fellow human beings, though I'm torn between admiration and cynical scorn. He is such a dork - precise side parting, neat sneakers, spotless house (with framed pictures of accordions lined up on the walls). Mum and I decided he lived alone in the house his parents owned before they passed away. (We enjoy speculating about things like that.) He speaks very quickly and with a great amount of enthusiasm for the ol' squeezebox. I will probably get a few lessons from him in the new year.

It so much fucking fun. It sounds like vampires are coming.

Ir is my dear and fervent hope that this will be me come Christmas morning! Except without the frou-frou skirt and fancy hair... the point is that I have asked for a piano accordion for Christmas. I'm very excited!

Yesterday, I rolled my ankle and ended up in a heap on the street. This is not uncommon for me; along with his eyebrows, his cynicism and his temper, I inherited my father's gammy ankles. I am hobbling about like an old woman. My left ankle is puffy and imbued with a distressing shade of grey, but it's only a little bit sore. My right knee is grazed and brown and squishy and weeping. Mmmmmm.

Last night I dreamt about taxidermy. I dreamt that I was alone in a dark room, watching quiz shows. By the flickering blue light of the television, I was cutting up tiny furry animals, treating them with chemicals and using their body parts to create more fantastical tiny furry animals. Premonition, I reckon; me at age 50.