Thursday, September 30, 2004

an exercise in self restraint

and no, i'm not talking some kinky fetishistic tie myself up gaff - yesterday I gained a glimmer of self control. yey me!
outside some free movie, cute blonde with a labret. i smiled, she smiled, i looked back.. yeah baby.
and i didn't go talk to her. i didn't even pull out my latest favourite line
'Hi. I'm going to give you my number. If you call me, cool. if not, a toi.'
I just walked away, congratulating myself on not making my love life more complicated.
Slight misgivings over this. She was damn cute. But hey, there's always next week...

Monday, September 27, 2004

6 fun things to do on October 9th

1. Make a John Howard Pinata - and set all the minors you can find who don't have the satisfaction of voting power on it. Gotta take out the poor kids' stress somehow!

2. Pin the tail/other dangly thing on your politician of choice. Bonus if it's a real politician and not just a picture.

3. Create a drinking game with your friends: every time your party lose a seat, drink. that way, the worse it is, the drunker you'll be. not that I would advocate alcohol abuse as a way of dealing with trauma. No really.

4. Guilt trip people you know who might not otherwise do the right thing into ticking the other box. Go as low as you need to. All's fair in love and politics..

5. Plan what you are going to spend your time thinking about, talking about, dreaming about (and hounding taxi drivers about) after the event. Life after the election. Just imagine it.

6. Plan your imminent move to New Zealand..

Sunday, September 26, 2004

NEWSFLASH

I've decided to be straight and want a cute boy to play with. ideally one who looks like that guy with the dog from Amores Perros.



Anyone know him? anyone who looks like him? any other cute boys who wont get all upset when I try it on with your sister too?

Friday, September 24, 2004

losing the love

oh yeah, and just to add to the rant, today we are not feeling the love for Ms Fits. Nothing on her part, except that I have met so many utterly fabulous, sexy, successful women in their mid20s today that I feel like a total waster. Reasons I Will Hate Her: I can't handle my own ineptitude. Fucking overacheivers PISS ME OFF. They'd even notice that i just spelt acheivers wrong.
Time to quit the whining excuses and remove finger from sphincter I reckon. Carpe Diem and all that.

Thank god for the precious girly things in life..

Today I wore a skirt. Now, personally, I don't see anything overly remarkable about this - summer is coming, I was going to work, I'm living by a mantra that life is always better in stilettoes and red lipstick. But apparently none of my friends have seen me in a skirt. And definitely not during the day. The reaction has been interesting: I've been hugged, told I look 'much better this way' by a well meaning leering man who serves me hocho every day. My boss nearly fell over and everyone's all like 'ooh, what's the occasion?'. The occasion is I felt like wearing a fucking skirt, god dammit. Is that so strange? And yes, I like the attention. The friendly men on the building site whistled, I got winked at by some guy cruising down the street in his car, I feel objectified and it's fabulous. You know why? Because I am SICK of the stereotype. Sure, I have short hair and I prefer to sleep with women. That doesnt make me stop being female. And the fact that I wore a skirt today doesn't mean I changed 'roles'.
Tomorrow I'm going to wear a bikini and a feather boa.

Thursday, September 23, 2004

today we love Ms Fits because..

She managed to get the word 'choad' into her blog.. sigh. she's so cool, dammit. i might have to get her to sign me.

vanilla or kinks?

Well, it keeps coming up in conversation; yesterday I found myself trying to define 'kinky' to someone who thought that it was a synonym for 'gay'. I find that everyone is reading The Ethical Slut. I hadnt heard of it, but suddenly everyone, it seems, is reading it. I feel so out of date.
GoD recommended it. Raved about it, even. This worries me a little, as I am sure it must reflect her ethic on who she sleeps with. Note to self: need to clue in. I had toyed with the idea of promiscuity, but it's really not something I can deal with when there's only one woman I want to be with right now. And somehow this led, logically, to discussions of S&M and social pressure to undergo pain for greater good over morning coffee in work.
This morning, while out running, I found a rosary. I picked it up and immediately felt overwhelmed with a burden of guilt. I fell to my knees and began to whip myself with a handy birch branch (stop beating off you dirty fuckers, it was mortification for a higher purpose than *you* could understand).
2 of my friends are into the psychoanalysis of S&M. I am informed that it's all about the anticipation rather than the pain itself. I don't know if birchwhipping counts. Maybe you could all let me know.
The question is, vanilla or kinks? And does it really matter?

Today is a sad sad day

Mr Russ Meyer died. We can only hope it was on red silk sheets surrounded by buxom hotpanted women.

Faster pussycat..

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

the best put down i've heard today..

If I throw a stick, will you leave?

seasonally screwed

Let's face it, Aussies love to rant about how the Brits as colonisers were really not all that forward thinking. You sail out of smoggy, lice-infested, poverty ridden 18thc London and find a place with sun, fabulous beaches etcetc and decide that it would make a great place for prisoners (actually, i'm not sure that this isn't a tactic still employed for young offenders today). 'Where's the logic?!', all you crim-progeny are crying. Smugly.
But really, you kids from Down Under are WRONG. Have you been outside lately? This is Spring. Spring is meant to be all balmy and mellow, floral even. And I find that if i go outside today I am instantly bathed in sweat. Worse, because the aircon in my office has been sucking the liquid out of me all day. The prospect of an infernal aussie summer terrifies me even more than going home does. And that's a lot.
It all started with Easter. Much as our European friends call it Paques or various other shoutouts to Jesus, we heathens the other side of the channel stuck it out with Easter. Eostre, pagan goddess of sex. Spring is sprung, and we're all trying to get laid. Why else do you think it's all about bunnies, eggs and chicks? You wouldn't have caught Jesus gorging himself on Cadbury's Creme. So, I turn up in Perth in April, where the leaves are turning brown and it's still hotter than a Brit summer. Easter, followed by winter and now there are Xmas cards in the shops and it is, I am informed Spring. And I am so confused.
But still, Xmas in the sun should be novel. Bringing a tree inside to protect it is probably quite apt, with the fire season. And I am really looking forward to seeing Santa in boardies..

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

crushed

I just realised I have a crush. And i've never met her. Never even seen a picture. But God, she's great.
I love Ms Fits. We all do. You will too.
http://reasonsyouwillhateme.blogspot.com

heartbreakjunkie

i know it - i'm a slushpuppy, a total sap. I fell in love. love, frankly, is fucked. friends have been foisting definitions at me:

'love is trying to give something you don't have to someone who doesn't exist'
is the current favourite, purely because i can never prove it's not true. so why do I always end up here? there are at least 4 women I am in love with right now. what is with that? huh?

the breakdown (nameless):

1. the woman i actually want to be with. Girl Of Dreams (hereafter will be known as God) She's a headfuck. She's married. that's a trauma right now, but blindly i'm still hanging in here. less said the better really. I want to retain at least a shred of dignity.

2. another married one. another i could never be with. knows me inside out and sometimes i kid myself that that goes both ways. love here is slightly less destructively consuming. in fact it almost (dare i say it?) seems positive...

3. exgirlfriend of a friend. a poet. we met through writing for the same magazine, briefly. vampish and Piscean, she slams, the only kiss we shared was incredibly intense and now she has got herself a lover and that jars, but is futile seeing as we are 12000 miles apart and how can i talk?!

4. singer. 20, edgy and fuckoffish but so so vulnerable behind it I just want to look after her. and maybe take the knives away. utterly fantastic hair. possibly naive beyond words. more so because she appears to be so worldwise. i don't know. i do know i would do anything for her. i don't think she knows that..

So what to do? Woman Number 1 is like a dream come true and all I can do is wait for her to wake up and realise that fuck, Ms RBB is the best thing IN THE WORLD dammit and she wants it too.
schya.



Monday, September 20, 2004

aspiration Sydney

Well.. last week I started a new job. not your usual run of the mill backpacker gaff, but an actual stab at the Real World. Short term, very thesp, lovely people who swear a lot and offered me green tea when I arrived. There are John Kerry for President flyers drifting around the office. I think I swung it on a wave of nostalgia for travelling on the part of the staff, but whatever, i find i landed on my feet.
And ever since (or probably before, hence the application) I have been aspiring to be a Sydneysider. More specifically, part of the Surry Hills/Darlo thespart crowd to which the current object of my desires belongs. Or possible which belongs to her. You see, it was a convergence of events: dream job, woman who is fucking with my head enough to keep me hooked, great weather.. you know it.
So anyways, I moved out of my hostel and into a garage masquerading as an apartment. I've progressed from pissed up nights out at Scruffy's or crabracing at the Scubar to jazzy little houseparties in Newtown. True to my babyrah status, i have taken to wearing kicked out cons, torn jeans and I feel that my wardrobe is lacking in cute retro hats. Now, I live with an actor. better still, a drama student. Basically, I think I am trying to recreate my circle of boho poets, thesps and sexual miscreants that I left behind in Oxford. It's all good. Now all i need is residency.
Any offers?