Close Encounters

I am going to go to sleep and dream of alien invasions. I am sleeping on the floor of my brother's room because I don't have a bedroom, and my computer is casting eerie artificial light on the walls, illuminating the fake chicken which is hanging off the lightshade in a fashion reminiscent of a scene from an abattoir. It reminds me of the upside-down chicken carcass sculpture in the Ron Mueck exhibition, which I saw yesterday. It was pouring with rain when I went and it took us a long time to find a car park. Maybe even longer than we spent inside the art gallery. That chicken sculpture with its neck-gash repulsed me, and made me pleased to be a vegetarian. My favourite piece was Pregnant Woman, because I saw a lot of strength in it. I even thought I saw her move, but I do often have visual impairments.
Back to the aliens. It is very windy outside, and I think wind is the creepiest kind of weather, so it is easy to imagine a spaceship sweeping down from the sky and hovering above my house. I love 1970s science-fiction films. Maybe I want to dream of aliens because I had a disappointing evening, engaging in several behaviours which I have vowed to stop but constantly repeat. To escape my frustration, I drift into daydreams and night ones.

Flashy Images

Prolific

If only I didn't spend all my time:
a) Engaged in frenzied (but not always) parties
b) Alone at home, lamenting my lack of success as an inhabitant of this earth/waiting for the next party to happen,
perhaps I would get more culture-jamming done. All you really need is a permanent marker and sense of fearlessness. I, unfortunately, have neither.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Culture_jamming

Thanks, Wikipedia.

P.S. I realise that my blogging style has become incredibly lazy; substituting thought, consideration and insight for flashy images. I had hoped none of my five readers (approx.) would realise this also, but I see now that that may be wishful thinking. I'm counting on my return to tertiary education to inspire me to better myself and thus this blog, which it surely will, as angst and procrastination are inherent in the lives of university students. Currently all I have to worry about is nothing, and so my hypochondria is in serious overdrive. And nobody wants to hear about that.

Build a wall of books between us in our bed

Remember when I was so strange and likeable

Appetite for Destruction*

Casual vandalism, petty theft. Down with fashion, up with passion. Rhyming doesn't make you cool.

*Hate myself for Guns 'N Roses reference.