Losing hours

3

2011-12-08T20:57:00.001+13:00

robots are the perfect form
man and woman are no more
cyborg androgyny is da best

i am an alien

what is sex?!

2011-11-23T20:18:00.001+13:00

daddy issues

2011-11-23T20:10:00.003+13:00

i hate john key

he's secretly a psychopath

people who vote ACT deserve to be dead

if you're young and conservative why are you even alive

i am mad because people have no brains

heart and soul

john banks is a homophobe and i want to rub his smarmy face in my hairy armpits

want to bash the white male ruling class to death

fk patriarchy and capitalism yo

put 'yo' to lessen sincerity

"My mum said 'patriarchy', I say 'intersectionality' "

for a brighter future, vote National

Dirty mirrors dirty mirrors

2011-11-11T15:54:00.003+13:00

Loveless

Rules of Attraction
: there is room in my lap for bruises, asses, handclaps

I am a baby / I am old

2011-11-11T15:49:00.002+13:00

aaahhhhhh wanna be rich and thin why am i not american, why don’t i live in Colorado, wanna be talented wanna be esteemed yo rely on your intellect if you have any, live in dunedin and never do anything

melancholia

2011-09-13T16:40:00.001+12:00

Definitely doomed

2011-09-13T16:19:00.003+12:00

I'm finding it kind of hard to be alive in the world right now and when I think about having kids I think I should probably definitely only have none or one (but Elsie wants two) because everything is terrible and the planet is doomed. I know things are always this awful (aren't they?), I'm just less able to ignore it at the moment. Is the news always this depressing?! Yes.

Like, why does no one care about where the clothes they buy come from? Why do so many people still eat meat? Why did I buy Burger King last week and why the eff does a (salad) burger need so many layers of packaging? Who is the asshole who invented individually wrapped pitted prunes? Are you fucking kidding me? All my friends are pretty 'switched on' about stuff, so why do they not give a shit that they buy clothes that are made by people in Bangladesh for twenty cents a day by companies that have no qualms about destroying the environment and their workers and AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH WE ARE DEFINITELY ALL GOING TO DIE. Seriously, how can people who care about feminism and human rights actively support industries that trade IN HUMAN MISERY. I guess everything trades in human misery. I know that just because I buy all my clothes second-hand doesn't mean I'm not an asshole in other ways. Mum, can I have a fair-trade MP3 player for my birthday? Made from minerals that are sustainably mined? Yeah sure.

Everything is terrible and I really don't want to see the end of the world because I wouldn't be chill like Kirsten Dunst, I would lose my shit and cry and scream.

// but then I have spent the last few years drinking and having fun and ignoring all these things so I'm not exactly modelcitizen and when is my guilt gonna translate into action //

Reasons for wanting extension on assignments:

2011-08-23T22:19:00.003+12:00

-in love triangle, v. confused

-questioning sexuality. was gay now maybe have to identify as bisexual question mark exclamation mark question mark

-feel like ian curtis want to hang myself

-am maybe not human

(an exhaustive list by Daniela and Elsie)

I should change the title of this blog to 'Losing Followers'

2011-08-09T23:55:00.001+12:00

New Directionz

2011-07-25T23:18:00.004+12:00

Feel like this blog should be less sincere, and should have words like 'totez' in it more. Not saying that using words like 'totez' negates sincerity. Just feel like (lyk?) I will be less embarrassed by this blog if it has more pictures of funny animals, and fewer sentimental/self-pitying filler. New ratio: 1 Personal detail: 1 Hilarious Picture.

I have been feeling dizzy a lot:

My nose bled for the first time. Paranoid about illness again:

2011-07-25T14:45:00.002+12:00

Metallic flakes in my mouth / I am a balloon

2011-07-18T23:38:00.002+12:00

The urge I sometimes get to be other people is pretty strong right now. Sometimes I really wish I was into team sports and I spent five days a week training with my team in the dark, wearing funny shorts and breathing steam everywhere. A lot of times I wish I was rich and stayed in hotels with room service and went to weird continental breakfasts in the hotel dining room with coffee refills and cups already on the table. The other night I watched Room in Rome, then I wished I was a thin Russian or Spanish woman, and I wished again that I had a continental breakfast. I went to Mosgiel and I wished that I had a grandparent/was a grandparent who lived in a subdivision and had little ornaments and a garage that was attached to the house.

Climbing Up the Walls

2011-07-06T15:57:00.002+12:00

is my *fave* song right now and I listen to it a million times and the best time I listened to it was on Monday night at 4am with Laura (from acclaimed indie band O'Lovely). I lay in bed every night til you could hear birds and now I have fevers and I am melting into dust because the electric blanket is always on too long. Pretty sure I only blog when I am sick, blame it on the delirium. I fell asleep on The Picture of Dorian Gray and Other Writings and crinkled the pages*

2011-06-15T15:46:00.000+12:00

2011-06-15T15:44:00.000+12:00

Wish it was the 1970s or I lived in Miami

2011-06-15T15:40:00.000+12:00

2011-05-31T22:51:00.004+12:00

Seriously, when I mean "am in sleepwear 80% of the time", I mean this is how I am usually dressed. I didn't even mean to come up with this sweet layering thing, totally accidental. Dunedin Fashun 2011 - all the trendz in one outfit: fake crochet pants, velvet, leopard print, 'boyfriend shirt', ugg boots, hoodie + laptop and green tea = in vogue

May Sobfest

2011-05-31T05:33:00.003+12:00

Dear Diary,

I realise this has become extra shit lately; I never post and when I do it is boring. Plus, the layout is hideous and it is just a generally pretty ugly blog. I feel bad about that, but I am probably not going to do much to improve it. I smell like MSG and I'm in sleepwear 80% of the time and most days the furthest I get from my house is the superette, if I leave the house at all.

Today I had to take myself out for coffee because I feel like I might go crazy/stop bathing if I stay indoors much longer. It was the highlight of my week, so I guess I am a loser. I've adopted this new sleep routine, which is don't, until 7am, and then sleep til 1pm, and then your brain doesn't start functioning until 10pm, at which point you go on the internet. I'm basically a hermit-girl and have given up on myself, just waiting for my butt to fuse to the desk-chair and my fingertips to merge with the keyboard. I have a four thousand word essay due in three hours and I am on one thousand words. I'm not very good at math, but I think that is bad.
If I start having some 'life experiences' again any time soon, maybe this blog will get marginally better.

xoxo

Wish my life was more drama-filled

2011-05-31T00:40:00.002+12:00

Do aliens exist? Are German films better than French ones? Am I bored? Do I spend too much time on the internet?

2011-05-31T00:36:00.001+12:00

Is blogspot still relevant in the tumblr age? Is Roswell as compelling for this generation of pre-teens as it was for me?

A Poem About Never Drinking Again

2011-04-25T13:24:00.000+12:00

My eyeballs are way too hot
Gonna spend all day reclining
<3 my laptop
Wearing ma fave jersey
That my mum says looks like a "horse blanket"
h8 my mum

2011-04-12T22:35:00.000+12:00

Smoke curls/phlegm city

2011-04-12T22:28:00.000+12:00

Coughing up blood and sleeping with an inhaler under my pillow. This is what it's like to have the black lung. Would just smoke if I knew this was going to happen.

UNRQTD

2011-04-12T21:31:00.000+12:00

Pretty much in love, and it suxx. I always have about five rotating crushez, but THIS IS THE WORST. Think about ______ all the time. Plotting seduction techniques/ways to extricate ___ from ___ ___friend. Not 'extricate' per se, don't want bad karma yo, maybe just convince that monogamy is overreated/conservative/harmful to a radical sexual politics? Don't know how to deal with this. Will turn to women's magazines for advice.

2011-04-01T15:11:00.000+13:00

Things I Hate

2011-03-12T20:38:00.000+13:00

1. Staying inside so long that your brain turns to mush and you want to explode

2. Being bored/not being able to do what you feel like doing

3. Clogged drains

4. That feeling you get after you eat deep-fried food

5. Feelings of frustration

Things I Like

2011-03-12T20:33:00.000+13:00

1. Street lights reflecting onto my bedroom wall

2. Reading the newspaper and drinking coffee, because it reminds me of my mother. We'd do this before work and school when I lived with her/before her newspaper subscription got cancelled. I'm too poor for a subscription and I hate the Otago Daily Times, but I buy a Christchurch Press on Wednesdays and Saturdays and a Sunday Star Times.

3. Eating things that are crunchy

4. Waking up in a clean bedroom

5. The view from my house: the top of a church steeple from my bathroom window; the lights on a nearby hill from my lounge window.

Influential

2011-02-17T19:39:00.000+13:00

I should write more posts about Things That Suck (see below).

http://adweek.blogs.com/adfreak/2011/02/new-zealand-polices-cougar-ads-are-pulled.html

2011-02-16T03:36:00.000+13:00

Into the water

2011-02-16T03:31:00.000+13:00

Feel like I'm fifteen again and want to cry. Rather be running down city streets than sitting here; my eyes hurt too much. That kind of desperate feeling when you want to tell weird people and strangers too much about your personal life. Fifteen year old me would probably write a diary entry - I was always scared of forgetting my life. Sit and watch TV until my brain goes fuzzy. Lucky I'm here alone, the havoc I would wreak if I were drinking doesn't bear thinking about. Too old to embarrass myself anymore. My lungs are filled with sludge.

2011-02-08T02:43:00.000+13:00

Was going to mention that I've listened to 'Running like a Man' by Wet Wings about 10 times in the past half hour, then thought, omg what if Wet Wings reads this and that would be soo embarrassing, so decided against it, then decided against better judgement and am mentioning it anyway. I just read this line on the blog 'People are just people': "I have scars on my left arm because I am right-handed" and I thought it was funny and true. Although some people can be ambidextrous. I am only when it comes to scars, my writing with my left hand is way more illegible than my normal writing, but I've been practising in case I ever have a stroke.

Things that Suck

2011-02-07T15:10:00.001+13:00

This police recruitment ad sucks. I see shit like this and can't help but think, who the hell sat in their office and thought this would be a good idea? Ha, look at the funny, rapey, paedophilic undertones of this ad! People are gonna think the police force is such a lolz, fun, hip and 'relaxed' place to work! We're not 'PC', we're cool! Fuck you, NZ Police. You suck. Because this comment is just so nuanced and well articulated, I'll link to the post that inspired it, in case anyone wants a slightly lengthier response: http://ideologicallyimpure.wordpress.com/2011/01/24/james-whitaker-challenges-greg-oconnor-for-worst-police-spokesman-role/

While I'm on the subject of things that I've read and become aggrieved over, this: http://thestandard.org.nz/guest-post-why-the-left-needs-feminism-ii/

It's now 2am, 5 hours since I started this post. And unfortunately, I've somewhat lost my train of thought. Something about when I used to hang out with all these anarchists/anarcho-communists/activists back when I was seventeen and still had dreams (sob). Looking back on it now, that environment wasn't always women-friendly, and feminism certainly wasn't at the forefront of the group's consciousness, although there were definitely feminists there. For example, a man who had been accused of sexual assault was a frequent visitor to the social centre where all this left-radicalism was supposedly based, and while he may not have been guilty, it didn't exactly result in a safe and positive space for everyone. Also, only about 3 women really hung out there, in contrast to the 10+ men who did so on a regular basis. Nothing inherently problematic in that alone, but my experience of left-wing activism then wasn't one that fully embraced feminist ideals.

Blah, blah, blah. I should have titled this 'I Was A Teenaged Anarchist'. I have to get up and fly to Wellington tomorrow, so l8r babezz. Wondering whether I should pop some quetiapine for the ride, I hate take-off. My parents never should have let me watch Alive when I was five.

Close Encounters

2011-01-20T02:32:00.000+13:00

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

2011-01-20T01:07:00.000+13:00

Prolific

2011-01-20T00:38:00.000+13:00

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.

2011-01-20T00:34:00.000+13:00

Build a wall of books between us in our bed

2011-01-17T02:48:00.000+13:00

Remember when I was so strange and likeable

2011-01-12T20:58:00.000+13:00

Appetite for Destruction*

2011-01-12T20:44:00.000+13:00

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

*Hate myself for Guns 'N Roses reference.

Fear, lust, wonder, nausea, mystery

2010-11-25T02:16:00.000+13:00

Suspiria

2010-11-11T20:53:00.000+13:00

Nausea

2010-11-04T00:41:00.000+13:00

I saw the actress colliding with her instrument panel, the steering column buckling with the weight of her heavy-breasted thorax; her slim hands, familiar from a hundred panel games, feinting with the razor-sharp louvres of the ash-tray and instrument clusters; her self-immersed face, idealized in a hundred close-ups, three-quarter profile lit by the most flattering light densities, striking the upper rim of the steering wheel; her nasal bridge crushed, upper incisors driven back through her gums into her soft palate.

Her mutilation and death became a coronation of her image at the hands of a colliding technology, a celebration of her individual limbs and facial planes, gestures and skin tones.

J.G. Ballard, Crash

When I'm With You I Have Fun

2010-10-31T00:19:00.000+13:00

The sky outside my house on a Saturday night. A strange number just called my phone but I was too late. I pretended to be glum as a trick but then I made it real.

If your number begins 351, call me.

Birthday Treaties

2010-10-29T23:02:00.000+13:00

It was my birthday and my friend David made me a gift that was really great. I made myself breakfast one morning and listened to the CD of short stories he recorded for me. I listened to it four times today.

My favourite story is I Am Unemployed by Tao Lin, but I like them all. I Am Unemployed makes me imagine I am standing on a street in New York, or maybe in Philadelphia (although I don't know what Philadelphia would be like, so I don't know why I think of it), and Betrayed Kingdom makes me think that sometimes I drink too much and am too flirtacious and sometimes people might get tired of me being like that. David's voice is amazingly rich and lovely, and it was nice to hear it and imagine him reading and what he looks like when he speaks.

Thank you David x

I also got some other nice things.

The back of the tapestry below is covered in stickers and doodles; one of Orlando Bloom, and 'Courtney''s signature, surrounded by stars. Twelve year olds are funny and own funny things and I like owning Courtney's old frame, even though she was a terrible speller and Orlando Bloom is not that cool.

My birthday last year was horrid, and this one was good, but the day after your birthday is always weird.

2010-10-08T22:54:00.000+13:00

Fan

2010-10-08T04:15:00.000+13:00

I love Joy Division. It is somewhat embarrassing to admit that when I bought Unknown Pleasures as a fifteen year old, it was because I loved Interpol and kept hearing that they sounded 'a lot like Joy Division'. Oh, the shame.
Unknown Pleasures is my favourite album. I used to play it in my bedroom and lie in the dark and 'feel'. Track 4, Insight, is particularly good for this since it is the aural equivalent of a crushed windpipe and cement-filled chest. The laserbeam noises are also good. I mostly am an emotionless automaton these days, but Joy Division takes me back to a time when this wasn't the case, and I would listen and weep for the tragedy and beauty of it all. WEEP.
Some people say that Closer is the better album, but my first and true love will always be
for Unknown Pleasures. Emotional ties that can't be broke. My admiration for Ian Curtis has diminished somewhat since reading Touching from a Distance, because it sounds like he was a controlling misogynist, which is unfortunate.

My Own Awkward Family Photo (dot com)

2010-09-21T23:50:00.000+12:00

Galactic fantasies

2010-09-10T00:08:00.000+12:00

Be my starry girl, sparkle and murmur at me with all your talent, so demure. Kiss me with your glitter mouth, baby.

Happy Birthday

2010-09-06T22:21:00.000+12:00

David Klein ca.2010

Happy Birthday David! I intended to send you a card in the post, but with the earthquake and all that was happening, I forgot, I'm sorry. I'm not even sure the postal service is totally functional. I haven't known you very long but I'm so glad we met. You are one of the kindest, most amazing, and refreshing (is that a weird adjective to choose?) people I know. You see the world and experience life with such joy and emotion, and I admire you hugely. I hope you had a beautiful day x

2010-09-02T23:36:00.000+12:00

IT'S JUST WINTER

Too much butter = self pity

2010-09-02T22:55:00.000+12:00

I used to feel glad that the process of making friends at school was behind me. I thought that leaving school would mean only making friends with people I really had a connection with, and avoiding all those acquaintances I didn't really care for. I didn't realise that school friendships are easy because you see each other all the time and you know that arrangement will continue for awhile. I guess I didn't consider how much harder it would be to make friends 'in the real world', or that from now on everyone I meet will probably only have a semi-permanent place in my life. I know that you don't forget your friends, even when they/you aren't together anymore, I just didn't expect people to stop caring so soon.
I think about my friends so often, and people who probably don't think I think about them, and they don't realise how much I love them, because usually the "Oh my god, I just love you so much, I mean, I really LOVE YOU" conversation occurs after several drinks. But I am sincere. I can tell I'm becoming an "old friend" to a lot of people though a.k.a no longer relevant or adored.

*insert self-deprecating comment here*

I have nothing. Except awkward emotionality. I cried in the toilet earlier because my relatives left my brother's birthday dinner without staying to eat the cake that I spent all day baking, layering, smothering in ganache and decorating with violets. I mean, come on.
I blame Christchurch, it makes me volatile. Maybe it's the changing seasons or the northerly winds or something. Yeah, I bet that's it.

Conversations with my father.

2010-08-25T21:37:00.000+12:00

2010-08-19T19:19:00.000+12:00

I don't know how or when it happened, but at some point this year I've become terribly, terribly boring. It's only just past seven and I'm in slippers and a fluffy robe. Why did this happen to me? Eat, read, study, eat, internet, eat, internet, (robe) sleep. "Partying", something I've heard others mention, is not a concept I'm familiar with. So, if you know me, a warning: probably let me go as a friend. All I talk about these days is new ways of making good pizza dough, how the weather is too shitty to allow clothes to dry and so forth. GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN. My current state makes me fondly yearn for being sixteen, when drinking was exciting and going to an all-ages gig at Creation on a Friday night was likely to be the highlight of the month. And being sixteen was fucking dire: I was a greasy-haired, self loathing bastard. Routine, that's my problem. Someone put an end to this. Buy me a ticket to Spain. Make me join the Exclusive Bretheren. ANYTHING.

2010-08-16T00:29:00.000+12:00

berlin

christchurch

auckland

U.S

Fear

2010-08-11T02:22:00.000+12:00

For the past few years I have spent a great deal of time terrified. I'm so preoccupied with being healthy and warding off illness that I am constantly aware of tiny, infinitesimal things about my body and convince myself that they are symptomatic of some terrible illness. Every day I feel a pang or see a spot in my vision and I get scared and think about dying and wonder why I just can't be healthy. Nevermind that there may not be anything really wrong with me yet (wisdom teeth and swollen lymphnodes *fingers crossed* aside), I feel sure there either is or will be. By thinking about morbidity endlessly, I worry I will imagine cancers, growths and swellings into being. I even feel like putting this into writing could be tempting fate, but it can't be worse than saying it to myself over and over. I know everyone gets ill and eventually gets sick very badly. It frightens me that it will happen before a fair and appropriate time. Never would be good, but 70 or whatever is decent.
Far, far too much of my mind is wasted either thinking about food and how I need to eat less of it, or by constant thoughts of death; black tumours clustering in my breasts, heart palpitations and muscle spasms, aching tissue, restricted blood flow, insistent pain, decay and growth.
It is tedious and tiresome and sickening and there are so many things I would rather think about, but I feel as though my brain is stuck on repeat.

My House

2010-07-26T11:37:00.000+12:00

Gender, Work and Consumer Culture

2010-07-22T22:00:00.000+12:00

To my delight, one of my papers, GEND306: Gender, Work and Consumer Culture, awards 25% of its mark based on a 'research journal'. This journal is, for all intents and purposes, really just a glorified scrapbook, in which I can gather any article, picture, anecdote, advertisement or whatever pertaining to gender, work or consumer culture, and can record my passing thoughts on labour, ''the" "patriarchy" and so forth. It is going to be GREAT. Seeing as pretty much everything ever in the world pertains to one of these things, I shall have to be rather selective about what to put in my journal. My artistic skills are somewhat lacking unfortunately, so I'll probably have to resort to Google Images (trademark) searches of "briefcase" "woman and vacuum cleaner" et cetera, et cetera, to bulk out the book.
If anyone comes across anything at all that I could include in my log, please send it my way.
Since I have become more actively attuned to issues of gendered labour and consumption for the purposes of scrapbooking (for about two weeks), so many things have popped up, holding signs with ''RELEVANT! RELEVANT!" all over them.
Including:

MAC and Rodarte releasing a clothing and make-up line inspired by the maquilladora workers in Juarez, Mexico. Lipsticks with names like "nightwalker" and "factory", eyeshadow called "bordertown". Tasteful. Conveniently, today I saw a (rather dated) documentary on women in Juarez, called Performing the Border. The complete absence of rights for factory workers and the tales of murder, dismemberment and rape rather renewed my desire to never buy first-hand clothing. But if not clothes, why make up? I still spend my money on extremely superfluous things, though not to the extent of some people I know ($400 coat, anyone?). I suppose something is better than nothing though. I have to reassure myself somehow.

When I think about family dinners and gatherings, the various Christmases and Easters of my childhood, the one detail I always recall is how, having eaten, the women at the table get up first, followed more hesitantly by the girls, and begin to clear and wash dishes, while the men and boys remain seated and think nothing of it.
Reminds me of this:

I help clear and offer to wash up out of politeness, but it was certainly also a compulsory and obviously gendered practice in my home. I wonder if my uncle or cousins or brother ever felt guilty or inclined to get up also. Most nights after dinner I recall being made to serve fruit or dessert to my father and (younger) brother, and fetching napkins to spread over their knees like I was their fucking servant. A large part of this kind of activity can be blamed on my father's misogynistic Italian upbringing, of course. But I know that this Christmas, it will still be my mother and I who clear the table and bring out the pudding. At least I eventually got old enough to tell little bro and dad to fucking get their own damn napkins, thanks.

In better news, I found a new blog: http://thehandmirror.blogspot.com/

2010-07-18T22:08:00.000+12:00

cigarette packaging

2010-07-18T22:06:00.000+12:00

http://swallowonmyneck.tumblr.com/

2010-07-18T21:46:00.000+12:00

2010-07-18T21:34:00.000+12:00

Sunday

2010-07-18T21:17:00.000+12:00

This is surely the worst day of the week. Grocery shopping - a trek that takes hours. A hangover, feeling shaky, room messed up from the previous night. Blankets scattered, cups rolled under beds, lipstick flaking on the corners of my mouth. I drink two plungers of coffee and read two newspapers. Parties are never as fun as they should be and I always want to see people I don't see. I never fail to succumb to this gloom, damn you, sundays.
There is a certain amount of enjoyment to be had, sure, then you feel the need to listen to melancholic music and blog.
anti-climax anti-climax

Silent Running (1971)

2010-07-16T18:41:00.000+12:00

When Jezebel and Feministing Aren't Enough

2010-07-11T21:21:00.000+12:00

Returning to a topic previously mentioned, I express gratitude to my friend Sam for pointing me to this website: http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/

Plenty to browse here. Great for distracting oneself from the rising sense of despair brought on by thoughts of another semester. ALREADY. HAVE TO GET UP FOR ONE CLASS AT 2PM TOMORROW FML.

Reasons I Like This City - II

2010-07-06T01:05:00.001+12:00

Three-foot tall Man Child

2010-06-22T23:28:00.000+12:00

Master and Margarita

2010-06-17T10:15:00.000+12:00

h8s

2010-06-16T03:05:00.000+12:00

Worst dilemma of my life = teabag string falling into the cup. Tab and all. Oh no.

Caramel

2010-06-16T02:34:00.000+12:00

Tonight I went to a sports bar and watched New Zealand play Slovakia in the Football World Cup. It was a 1-1 draw. I only had one aim of the evening: to consume my first jager-bomb. My girlfriend bought us one each and I decided not to drink mine until the first goal was scored, or til half-time, whichever came first. At the forty five minute mark I dropped the brownish syrupy shot into the glass of half-flat red bull and drank it in two goes because it was delicious.
On the walk home everything looked so odd and great. I pulled out my camera and its battery was dead, of course. I wish I could describe it well enough. So geometrically pleasing. I was wearing glasses that made the world a collage of 2D cut-outs: pictures of buildings, lines, windows, drains, beams and frames pasted onto a black background for my eyes to see. Buildings are perfect. Ramps that lead to fenced off alleyways and doors in the middle of nowhere whose keyholes probably allow entry to some great hallway that smells of recently cut wood. The air was cold but it didn't get past my duffel coat into my Surfers Paradise t-shirt, only touched my cheeks and dampened my shoulders.
As I turned onto my street I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to walk down a street in Brooklyn: narrow brick houses, the sound of cars braking, the smell of cumin and greenhouse-skin scent of tomatoes from a corner grocers. I opened my eyes inches from a lamp-post. This is what happens when you watch too many movies.
I ought not fantasize.

Game

2010-06-15T01:24:00.000+12:00

Here's a fun game. Which book is this from?
Resorting to photographs of other people's writing = sure sign of nothing to say
No internet cheating.

Musculature/ass

2010-06-14T16:19:00.000+12:00

Token Rain Post

2010-06-14T16:08:00.000+12:00

Heavy sky and its smudgy clouds, putting rain all up on this place. Cars are swushing on the roads, the chill windows are streaked with little rivers. Reading novels under a faux-fur throw.

Would be more quaint if the blood in my fingers was thick and warm and my left foot wasn't a dead block in its shoe. Mummy, mummy, I want to come home where the powerbill isn't addressed to me.

Space Dreaming

2010-06-12T03:08:00.000+12:00

2010-06-12T03:05:00.000+12:00

http://http://feministfatale.com/2010/03/the-bechdel-test-for-women-in-movies/

Girl

2010-06-12T02:18:00.000+12:00

I like to look at every person I walk past. I make a point of it. It's an automatic pattern; I look up, I look down, I set my face in a certain expression and I look up again to see if the person will look at me too. I like making judgements about people based on this momentary exchange and to know if they are a rude or kind sort of person, or maybe if they are bored or upset. I did this pattern when I saw a girl coming towards me as I walked across campus tonight, going home from the supermarket. I bought coffee, spinach, mushrooms, a newspaper, orange tic-tacs, and pumpkins seeds which were partly thieved because I said they were code 41782, which is in truth sunflower seeds. She was a short, black-haired girl and she wore a white fur coat and a gold belt. That description doesn't really adequately describe how sweet she looked. When I looked at her she didn't look back because she was smiling to herself with lots of teeth. It was nice and I was glad I saw it.

Reasons I Like This City - I

2010-06-07T22:26:00.000+12:00

Corridors to Where?

2010-06-03T21:55:00.000+12:00

Toxic Schizophrenia - Tim Noble and Sue Webster

2010-06-01T00:25:00.000+12:00

Transmission

2010-05-30T23:09:00.000+12:00

Someone reminded me today that I didn't live with my mother for most of my highschool life. I hadn't thought about that for so long, it was startling to recall it. I hardly remember years of my adolescence and it isn't ancient history. Suddenly memories of forgotten houses; I walked down the hallway of a house almost blanked out of my mind, thought about washing my face in a white bathroom I didn't realise I'd been in. I can't associate that person with the one I am now. Too many houses. I don't like feeling that pieces of my life don't belong to me. It makes everything that is real now seem trivial, because in five years time my brain will have white-washed it all.

More Family Delights

2010-05-26T02:42:00.000+12:00

I can't get over it.

What is wrong with people? I promise that when I have children I'll never start a weird family blog*. Do they not realise that the internet is riddled with paedophiles just waiting for them to upload more creepy shots of their semi-clothed children to jizz over?

JUST SO FASCINATING

*I probably will.

Perversions

2010-05-26T02:29:00.000+12:00

I have a strange fascination with collecting photographs of other people's weird families.

Wings of Desire

2010-05-24T01:25:00.000+12:00

Interpretationzzzz

2010-05-21T11:32:00.000+12:00

Driving a car, running out of petrol and out of control. Awkward turn, scrape the bumper and roll to the side of a road. Two cars throw balloons filled with PVA glue (hope that's what it was), scream at them and cry, want to vomit, cars stop, get roughed up by girls.

-Scared of driving
-Scared of Christchurch/Fendalton Road
-Scared of seminal fluids
-Possible anger management issues
-Scared of girls with hoop earrings

You may not be a babe, Habermas, but I still wanna get to know ya

2010-05-19T21:46:00.001+12:00

I've been feeling frustrated about the lack of ideas in my brain. Get in me, knowledge. I should like to stop the world, retreat into a lair, cosily lit with a lamp, and spend a good deal of time reading and 'getting smart'. I'd emerge and know everything about Adorno, Baudrillard, Wittig et al. I would be quoted in articles: "Cultural theorist says..." This is my current goal. I want to know more, I know nothing! Just wanna be esteemed aye.

Likenesses

2010-05-19T00:33:00.001+12:00

I look like this when shaving my body hair also.

Gratitude

2010-05-19T00:22:00.001+12:00

I complete your survey, and this is how you reward me.

Thanks, medical researchers. Things always look worse on paper. Oh, and I like how you calculated that depending on where I buy my drinks, I spend $1600-$5000 a year on scrumps. Well, according to MY calculations, one cask, on special at Countdown, each week for a year costs me a mere $936.

SUCK IT

Things start to fall apart around mid-semester

2010-05-17T19:31:00.000+12:00

And I'd been doing so well

Books/Videos of my childhood

2010-05-03T19:22:00.000+12:00

Caught in a wave of nostalgia, satisfied by trawling google images. Did you love these things?

Spot, Spot, the lovable Spot

Noddy, the little man in the red and yellow car

Kipper the Dog

Goodnight, Little Bear

Rupert the Bear

Matilda

The Tailor of Gloucester

Brambly Hedge

Comfort/Poor Circulation

2010-04-29T01:25:00.000+12:00

Cold hands = warm heart

3

2010-04-28T22:05:00.001+12:00

Bedsheets, smile lips, many hands, thighs thighs thighs, arm hair, curved mouths, I like touching the small of your back.
"Welcome to my room."

"What are you thinking about?" "Nothing."

Heavy Water

2010-04-26T20:34:00.000+12:00

Lying on the carpet, oh no. Seeing that I need to vacuum doesn't make me feel better.

2010-04-26T19:26:00.000+12:00

When I was a child I had a small grey tin filled with things that were for some unknown reason treasures in my mind. A red heart shaped key chain and about a dozen holographic Simpsons cards lay in it. The other thing I kept in the tin was a miniature plastic snow orb. My boyfriend Martin gave it to me when I was four. At my fifth birthday party I told him No Boys Allowed on the trampoline. He was so upset that he went home and even though my mother drove me to his house the next day with a piece of conciliatory birthday cake and I said sorry, I never saw him again. Relationships, huh.

2010-04-26T19:10:00.000+12:00

Lessons

2010-04-23T22:02:00.000+12:00

I made a serious error of judgement in Year 13, when I arbitrarily strayed from the arts path and picked up Geography. I sat by myself in the front row of seats (the back row was taken and I wanted to be as isolated as possible, to enhance my feelings of self-pity). The teacher was extremely chirpy and listed 'exercise' as one of her interests. Enough said, really.
Mid year we had to go on Geography Camp to study glaciers in the Franz Josef Valley.

When we arrived at the backpacker's we had to get into bunkroom groups, at which point something happened which made me feel like a five year old child. The teacher had to assign me to a room along with three other loser girls because I had no one to bunk with. What! There was nothing wrong with them (although one was actually horrifically racist) but I couldn't help feeling awful, embarrassed and mostly furious. Angry that I was on this fucking camp with thirty girls I didn't like for a subject that I decided to take for no logical reason. I sulked for three days, humiliated that in that setting I didn't feel like myself and became this awkward girl, trying to edge into other people's conversations and going to bed early to avoid group activities. In hindsight I have no idea why I cared. They had a fucking sing-a-long, for Christ's sake. In that moment however, I wanted to jump off the Highway 6 bridge.

The beauty of the landscape subdued that urge. Eleven kilometres of ice and rock spilling out onto a plain of shingle stretched to the coast. I hiked over the valley and climbed up a waterfall. A helicopter flew us to the top basin of the glacier, the neveé, where the snow formed a perfect, deep lake and all I could see was white. The air particles felt vibrant but everything was still so high up. Maybe I was in Antarctica, I thought. It was incredibly beautiful.

Too bad we had to stop in Hokitika on the way back.

Sometimes

2010-04-22T09:58:00.000+12:00

Rising in my ribs, curling through my stomach, drifting up my throat, pressing on my chest, panicking my lungs I feel sick. I miss everything. It's almost May, I'm scared! The thought of always existing in my life often annoys me. Why am I not a young American boy? Why am I not a middle-aged German? My days are passing far too rapidly, sometimes I get terrified.

Baby

2010-04-21T21:08:00.000+12:00

I'd take you to the Pacific Northwest.

Temuka/Small town

2010-04-20T12:16:00.000+12:00

I passed through Temuka five or six times last year while making the bus journey from Christchurch to Dunedin and back. Temuka, settled in 1853 by William Hornbrook, consists of a dairy and adjoining tearooms, a Jehovah's Witness church and very little else. I don't want to be too critical of Temuka however. It has that strange, eerie vibe typical of quaint small towns that I, as an "urban type" enjoy. In small doses, from an observational point of view.

There's something very agreable about entering a dingy tearoom and having to order a cup of hot water, because you don't want to eat the yellowing savouries in the warming cabinet. Temuka probably looks the same now as it did in 1970. I find trips like this inspiring.

2010-04-16T23:50:00.000+12:00

Tremors

2010-04-16T22:26:00.000+12:00

2010-04-16T00:41:00.000+12:00