(And cheap champagne.)
In homage to Lady J.
I would normally never eat fish sticks (actually, in Australia, we call them ‘fish fingers’) but my sister has about 80,000 of them in her freezer for some reason.
They must have been on sale.
Category Archives: Photos
Jonesin’ & Pining
I still haven’t managed to secure any weed. It’s really driving me out of my mind. I don’t know why, particularly. In recent times I’ve gone for whole months at a stretch without so much as thinking about the chronic.
It’s pretty goddamn lame. Here I am in trendy, urban Fitzroy and I can’t even score. I wonder how many people are getting stoned right now within a one kilometre radius of where I’m sat. Probably hundreds.
Being an isolated recluse may sound pretty sweet but it has its drawbacks.
Stupid prohibition.
I know I’ve been banging on about this to an extent which is probably getting somewhat tedious but it’s becoming all I can think about. I’m hoping if I whinge about it enough someone’ll email me and sort me out just to shut me the hell up.
I wish Toots were here. She’d know what to do. She’s like a high precision ganj-seeking missile.
I miss you, Toots.
Someone else I’ve been missing a bit lately is a girl named Sarah. Where are you, Ms Whatever-Surname-You’re-Using-These-Days? What are you doing right now, I wonder? (Sleeping, probably.) Did you get the Christmas card I sent to your mum’s house in Howth? Or did the two of you finally kill each other? Are you really, as it says in your disused Yahoo profile, a wedding planner? Or was that a joke?
I asked around a bit a little while ago after a working email for you, but without success.
I really hope you are well and happy, and that you will stumble across this page by chance and get in touch.
Finally: how cool is this?
Later, bitches.
WO0T! Camera!
Sister decided her camera that I had been using up until recently was so cruddy and decrepit that she didn’t want to take it to Sweden after all, and there was much rejoicing.
I love you, camera, even if she doesn’t.
My sister’s fridge is full of photographic supplies. I tried some, but they were totally disgusting. She’s probably the most normal one in our family but she’s still a real freak.
Martin the Swede told me my eMac was yellow and smelt of cigarette smoke. I’d never noticed.
Not being able to chain smoke and have the teev on in the background whilst I’m online is proving a major lifestyle adjustment. I’m not at all sure it’s healthy.
Which reminds me: I can’t pick up ABC here. Doesn’t matter as much as it might, though, because I’ve got cable broadband. (UPDATE – Although I am kinda bummed about missing Dr. Who.. hold on a minute.. *has idea*.. yep, they’re all illicitly online. Of course. *does happy dance*) Yay, broadband. Who would ever have thought a subsidiary of Telstra could offer a service so blindingly speedy and efficient?
Apologies to those to whom I owe emails, especially Nada. You’ve given me a touch of the email performance anxiety, I think. The same dread condition once stopped me writing to Elmo for three months. But I’ll get on it sooner than that, I promise.
I’ve had a retarded dog to walk.
Scars (Part 2)
See here.
(And here.)
More of my sister’s work here. (Flash site, under construction – progress bars pending; dialuppers counselled to exercise patience).
Filed under Photos
Note to self: .. and a new baking dish
In other news: I am more naive than I like to imagine. People are funny.
Oh, and Josie and the Pussycats is the best movie ever. (join the army)
I Love Youse All
Except the last three people, I don’t know you. But I’m sure you’re very special.
It’s all (virtually) happening! We have pathos; we have bacchanalian excess; we have uncircumcised dick; we have happy snaps. We have crazy pink paedophile fun.
And look, I bought some new bowls:
New bowls! It’s all happening!
NaNoWriMo
So yeah, I’m going to do NaNoWriMo this year. I’ve taken this decision now so I’ll have lots of time to prepare, and flagging it here so it’ll be harder to back out when November rolls around.
I bought this notebook to put thoughts and ideas in.
Because I’m a sucker, I’m going to acquire & read Chris Baty‘s NaNoWriMo bible No Plot? No Problem! I like the title.
It’s also a good excuse to re-read a few favourite books.
(138 pages of The Magus to go, weary sigh.)
Another preparatory project will be salvaging old writings dating back to the early 90s from my old Mac Classic II (pictured below), currently awaiting carriage to these people, who are going to put its 40MB hard disk onto a CD for me.
Magus Saga Continues, Etc
Well, the end of the month has arrived, but despite my resolution, I’m still 168 pages shy of completing The Magus.
I have been contemplating suicide, but it really wouldn’t suit my style and besides, I want to find out if the ending is really as ambiguous and unsatisfying as everyone says.
The DVD of A Zed & Two Noughts I was coveting here has gone, I discovered today. However in its place was one of PG‘s preceding feature, The Draughtsman’s Contract (pictured, below) – also with director’s commentary! Go the digital revolution etc. Feeling in need of a compelling reason to live some retail therapy, and wary of being gazumped again, I bought it.
Yay, DVD of The Draughtsman’s Contract with director’s commentary.
What else? I happened to pass pipe-smoking Bolte Bridge participant Operative Arachni on Barkly Street this morning. I smiled at her, but I don’t think she recognised me.
Here is a picture of someone else’s toaster (my own is too retiring for photos):
Brave New Wallet
In addition to buying clothes on Friday, I also got a new wallet. My old one was falling to pieces. Things were constantly falling out of it. I’ve lost four keycards in the last eight months or so because of this.
As the picture above illustrates, the new wallet is substantially smaller than the old one.
In many respects this is a good thing. However I had not entirely anticipated the extent to which the new one offers severely limited scope for one of my favourite passtimes, the obsessive collection and hoarding of random stupid crap.
My old wallet used give house room to all manner of daft accumulata. Unfortunately for the shiny novelty value of this post, I actually already partially cleaned it out when I moved. It was becoming unweildy.
Effecting the transfer nevertheless necessitated further wallet-crap cullage, and was a welcome excuse to indulge in a spot of the old ultra short term nostalgia.
From top down: plastic bag no doubt used for illicit purposes, business cards, handy Polyester Books “Get Out of Hell Free” card, old Canberran ID & membership cards, including ANU Health Club card, expiration date August 2002
Inscribed scraps of sentimental value
One and a half playing cards
Tickets for things, mostly movies. I decided to retain the ones from Melbourne and archive the ones from Canberra, which comprised the bulk of the collection (note yellowing ticket to Kill Bill Vol 1, dated 27th October 2003, in foreground)
I was unsure what to do with this particular ticket, for a 10:10pm session of Van Helsing on Monday the 30th of May 2004, at the Jam Factory Village (see previous post), which I foolishly went to see entirely on the basis that Kate Beckinsale was in it.
It is an unhappy ticket; I associate it with sitting sadly on the floor of T’s flat in Toorak, realising that my first attempt to move to Melbourne was doomed. And despite the movie was absolutely dire.
But in the end I decided to retain it.
248 pages of The Magus left.
This Week Has Been Crap
Well, it has. Not crap as in terrible, just crap as in nyeh. Total non-week. Except for Monday evening’s little Neuroventure, that was frikken awesome. Only interesting thing that’s happened all week. Pretty much getting on for the only thing I’ve done all week, of any note.
I went to the Henson exhibition again today. Well worth a second go. It’s great. No posters for sale! Must be a rights thing. Sucks.
I am still somewhat ill. It’s very tiresome.
I am going clothes shopping tomorrow. I hate clothes shopping. I find it almost impossible, especially in my current incarnation. But society (and the weather.. brr) dictates that one must have clothes.
The things I go through for you, The World.
Whoo, grumpy post.
I do have some good news. Remember how I wanted to work in a cinema? Well, I have an interview at the Jam Factory Village on Chapel Street on Monday. It’s certainly not my dream cinema job (I still fancy the Astor.. or the Nova.. mmm.. Nova..) but it’s a step in the right direction. And god knows, it would be a hell of a fuckload better than my present ‘job’.
They rang me up out of nowhere and did a preliminary interview over the phone whilst I was en route to the airport last Friday, which was kind of startling. Apparently I did alright though. In a way it was better than a conventional job interview (ie one you know about in advance) because I didn’t have time to get nervous.
What else?
I had this post on the launchpad about The Magus which is kind of grumpy too, so I might just drop it in here and have a great big ol’ grumpfest but actually.. nah, I’ll save it for tomorrow. Why not finish out the week in high grumpin’ style? It’s my blog, goddamnit.
Whatever, I’ll do what I want etc.
Here is a picture of Gwen Stefani:
Signs
“Attention Tracey and Anne of Alma Road. Please contact Cezelia asap”
Answers on a postcard..
Filed under Photos
And That Was The End Of That
The parental farewell party in Canberra went well. But I felt very numb all weekend; couldn’t really get my head around what was happening. It didn’t seem real.
It doesn’t seem right for such a significant change to occur whilst I’ve still got one foot in the void. My family home where I spent so many years of my life has just ceased to exist, and it’s like I missed the whole thing. It’s sad.
I found my microphone.
And I got some new jeans.
As predicted the highlight of the trip was seeing my youngest sister, who’s very special. We have a complex history. She’s been an incredible bitch to me on a fair number of occasions without ever saying sorry. I think I’ve damaged her quite badly in some ways, although I didn’t mean to. She’s never entirely gotten over certain things, even after four years.
But for all our history, I still love her so much and probably always will. I fantasize sometimes that one day we will be the best of friends again, and make art together happily ever after. Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t know.
She seems to be doing alright. Although she has developed a serious text messaging addiction.
After the party on Saturday night, we played traditional stoned cards in my old room. It wasn’t like the old days at all, but it was nice.
I painted these walls red after I got home from Wales at the beginning of 2000.
That is all.
Dissatisfied with being a virtual recluse?
Well, get out more. So sayeth the Reani-man, pragmatically enough, and sound advice it is too.
(Actually I’m not a virtual recluse; many of my online personas are the quite social butterflies..)
I had lunch today at Lentil As Anything, a funny little vegan cafe on Blessington Street with an appealingly unpretentious boho vibe and an innovative “pay whatever the fuck you feel like” pricing policy. Here is someone else blogging about it in a manner which captures the tone quite nicely.
I had a lentil burger with satay sauce (and a lasse), and paid $15
Last night I was going to go a talk by photographer Bill Henson (not to be confused with the late Jim Henson), who is good, at the Ian Potter Centre (the NGV‘s secondary premises at Federation Square, housing Australian art – which, shamefully, I only discovered existed last week whilst executing Neurocam Assignment 5555/01). They are currently hosting a major Henson retrospective.
Unfortunately I missed the talk because I got on the wrong tram. Stupid wrong tram.
This weekend I’m making another flying visit to Canberra; my folks are throwing a farewell party before upping stakes to Switzerland. My previous visit – see archive – was a bit of a downer and I’m not particularly looking forward to it, but I will at least get to hang with my beloved baby sister, who is travelling all the way from the far reaches of darkest Queensland for the occasion.
