Trysting Fields

Blah

Freakley told me last night to turn my shittiness into art. Personal motto: "redeem garbage", apparently. This is what she told me when we first met in early '07, too.

"Make art!" she says.

She's good like that.

Trouble is, my shittiness basically consists of an inability to put any meaningful form or shape around anything. Narrative failure. Everything seems completely empty and pointless. Whinge piss moan blah.

When I crash, I tear myself to pieces trying to Figure Myself And Everything Generally Out - metaphysical arms flailing comically - until I feel my sanity seriously starting to disintegrate. Then I give up, and just live vacantly from one atomized moment to the next.

There's not much you can make from that. Got art? Well, no. That's kind of the problem.

That said, this here blog was originally started in a bid to pull myself out of that void. And it totally worked, over time.

But the last two times I've been seriously down since then (mid '06; mid '07), I didn't really talk about it much here. It seemed self-sabotaging to advertise it too explicitly. And also pointless. Natch.

I didn't really socialise, either. This time I am, a bit. I worry that's similarly self-sabotaging and is doing irrepairable damage to the relationships in question.

Contact with other people gives you (some) perspective, makes you feel less alone, and generally makes life a bit easier. All of which is nice.

But ultimately allowing people to see much of you when you're like this just weakens you further. It just fuels the negative self image which is getting you so down in the first place.

"Hi, my existence is a gaping abyss of infinite horror; I feel completely worthless and useless, and I don't really give a shit about anything except how useless and worthless I feel. Er.. how are you?" Doesn't help.

Meh; I'm on the up, gradually.

I was really in hell a few months ago.

I'm not in hell now. Just - yeah - a big ol' envoided vacuum of blah.

And I won't be here forever.

Hello, Blog (redux)

It's wet today. It's nice. I was woken up by the garbage truck at 9am this morning and realised I'd forgotten to put the bins out. So I did. Then I went back to bed until midday.

I started back at work on Monday. This is A Good Thing. I've become waaay too reclusive over the break.

I think my 'new' housemate - he still seems new even though he's been here three months, partly coz he went away for a month quite soon after moving in, and partly coz time has been frozen on Planet T lately - has decided I'm a freak.

He actually said this, more or less, late one drunken night in January. "It's funny the things you discover about people once you get to know them a bit better. Like you: before I started living with you, I totally thought you were normal."

I LOL'd. I was, actually, much more normal before he moved in. Or at least playing normal much more convincingly.

So it goes. I hope he doesn't feel conned.

We still seem to be getting along fine, even though he's decided I'm not normal.

What else? I got a new camera a few days ago, finally. It's a DSLR; sexy but overwhelming. I'm kind of scared of it. I haven't actually charged the battery and set it up yet.

But I will.

It's Time For Another New Post

That happened fast.

Here is a picture of the ink cart I bought on the way to work this afternoon:

Here are some doodles I did once I got there:

Here is a picture of ~'s stuff in the hall, just before we moved it all out earlier this evening:

Here is the schedule of cleaning I am going to do over the next week or so month:

Here is a picture of the stirfry I made for dinner:

Here is a picture of Nada the no-longer-a-kitten-not-yet-a-cat's dinner:

Here is a picture of some washing I just hung up:

Here is a picture of the bed I am going to now, that perhaps I may dream of posts more interesting than this one:

Good night.

It's Really Quite Sad And I Probably Shouldn't Admit This

But, you know, my heart actually sinks when I get home from work to find that in ten hours no one has sent me email or left comments.

Work harder people.

(Or should I work harder not to care? Answers on a postcard..)

What do we think about this local Cam get-together idea? Several parties have been independently expressing enthusiasm for such a prospect.

Where would be good to do it at? I'm thinking somewhere reasonably central and reasonably conducive to conversation. I am a relative newcomer to Melbourne and notoriously reclusive, so someone else will have to think of a venue, coz I just have no idea.

P.S. I can't be sure, of course, but I could have sworn I saw the mysterious Xul Solar 23 this morning at Spencer Street Station. Seriously.

Blah.

Blah blahdy blah blabidy blah blah blah blahdy blah blah blabidy blah blah blah blah blahdy blah blah blah blahdy blah blah blah blah blabidy blah blah. Blahdy blahdy blah, blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah; blah blah blabidy blah blah blah blahdy blah blah blah.

Blah blah blabidy blah blah blah - blah blah blahdy blah blabidy blah blah blah, blah blah.

Blah blabidy blah, blah.

My sister wants her camera back. Silly bitch.

Neurocam is not a culture jamming exercise.
Neurocam is a misdirection virus.

(Please note: Neurocam is not a misdirection virus.)

Here is another picture of Kate Beckinsale in "Underworld"; you can never have too many:

"I'll never age and I'll never die/Unlike all the stars in the sky/I'll be young forever.. know why?"