Monday, March 26, 2007
Fun park apocalypse. On Saturday night I was waiting for a tram on the corner of Swanston and Lonsdale Streets when an unsettling scene greeted my eyes. There was a monstrous carnival ride looming some twenty metres into the night sky outside QV. It consisted of two pendulum-like arms with people strapped into carriages at each end. Lurid lights spelled out its name... The Hangover!
The arms began their slow, inexorable motion, swinging at first only back and forth, but seemingly building up momentum and swinging higher each time. It began to rain, fat drops shining silver in the Hangover's neon lights and slamming into the crowd of pedestrians assembled on the corner. Screams drifted from the people strapped into the Hangover as its twin arms swung heavily harder. The screams grew higher and louder with each swing. The Hangover arms were so perilously high by now that they seemed about to kiss in mid-air, instantly pulverising all within.
The screams reached a fever pitch as the two Hangover arms whooshed past each other and dropped down. The crowd stood like puddings, staring impassively in the rain.
I felt I had witnessed a truly savage spectacle.
The arms began their slow, inexorable motion, swinging at first only back and forth, but seemingly building up momentum and swinging higher each time. It began to rain, fat drops shining silver in the Hangover's neon lights and slamming into the crowd of pedestrians assembled on the corner. Screams drifted from the people strapped into the Hangover as its twin arms swung heavily harder. The screams grew higher and louder with each swing. The Hangover arms were so perilously high by now that they seemed about to kiss in mid-air, instantly pulverising all within.
The screams reached a fever pitch as the two Hangover arms whooshed past each other and dropped down. The crowd stood like puddings, staring impassively in the rain.
I felt I had witnessed a truly savage spectacle.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Something I've noticed. This past week I have talked about sex more than usual. You remember one particular kind of conversation I've been having; but I've also enjoyed talking about sex with men I am unlikely to fuck. As I think I mentioned, I've been re-reading The Fermata, and I was struck by a line from the book: "Neither of us wanted the other, but we did want to get close to what we really wanted by talking about it." (p84)
Last night I was telling someone about how, on the previous Friday, I had been so certain that one of my crushes liked me back because the crush had repeatedly kissed me on the cheek. "Like this," I said impulsively, kissing his cheek. I could feel his stubble rough against my lips and I wondered to myself, "Is this a moment?"
I am so in love with the detailed beauty of the world that I'm rather too hasty to identify something as "a moment". By this I mean a flicker of shared recognition, a sense of something passing between two people. However, it's usually only me who identifies its momentousness. Talk and action, possibility and disappointment; these are the things that are consuming my thoughts right now.
Last night I was telling someone about how, on the previous Friday, I had been so certain that one of my crushes liked me back because the crush had repeatedly kissed me on the cheek. "Like this," I said impulsively, kissing his cheek. I could feel his stubble rough against my lips and I wondered to myself, "Is this a moment?"
I am so in love with the detailed beauty of the world that I'm rather too hasty to identify something as "a moment". By this I mean a flicker of shared recognition, a sense of something passing between two people. However, it's usually only me who identifies its momentousness. Talk and action, possibility and disappointment; these are the things that are consuming my thoughts right now.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Men of today, part two. Y'know, this post was a bad idea. Yesterday I was full of optimism about my life; I had the tantalising feeling that new possibilities were opening for me, and that I was finally about to get out of the rut in which my close friends know I've been struggling. I had dinner one night this week with Jeremy and he told me, "I think it's gonna happen for you soon." Even my current friendship with Jeremy, which I cherish (Team America-style) because it has been so fraught in the past, seemed to me a sign that things would soon change for the better.
But I shouldn't have mentioned my personal life on here. I feel quite embarrassed to have become so comfortable with blogging that I would lay myself out quite so nakedly as I did with this post. In the comments I got hoary platitudes offered as if I'd never heard them before, nor applied them to my life so many times and with such a sense of personal failure. Now I feel crushed and humiliated as a professional and as a woman. The best thing to do is really to take that shit down.
But I shouldn't have mentioned my personal life on here. I feel quite embarrassed to have become so comfortable with blogging that I would lay myself out quite so nakedly as I did with this post. In the comments I got hoary platitudes offered as if I'd never heard them before, nor applied them to my life so many times and with such a sense of personal failure. Now I feel crushed and humiliated as a professional and as a woman. The best thing to do is really to take that shit down.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
I am feeling sad and disillusioned today. I have had all manner of posts planned. Notably my epic discussion, with accompanying comparative images, of how Nelly Furtado's video for "Say It Right" is a complete rip-off of Kylie's video for "Can't Get You Out of My Head", and my equally epic comparison of Justin Timberlake's two songs "Cry Me A River" and "What Goes Around Comes Around". I was even going to explain in detail how I would mash them together to create a bootleg called "What Goes Around Crying Comes Around Rivers".
But my computer's sound card has died, depriving me of some of my greatest enjoyments - listening to music on Pandora and MySpazz, and watching YouTube clips. I am feeling lasagne. This is a feeling of such sadness that only lasagne can ameliorate it. I have a scale of cheese and tomato (with or without accompanying meats), you see:
Already happy = toastie
A little flat or tired = tinned spaghetti
Need a little cheering up = pizza
Need a lot of cheering up = parma
Extremely sad = lasagne
The best lasagne is to be had at Pellegrini's. It is cheesy and has chunks of meat and vegetables, and you only need a fork to eat it. And they call me "signorina bella", which, as I've previously said, is important. However the coffee there is really terrible and it made my stomach churn.
Basically, I am tired of giving myself away for free, and being left behind in life. Of course I can't go into detail about any of this here, as I don't want any of the people who monitor this blog to know and be offended by what is bothering me. But in my better moods I can see that I am a talented and attractive person. This just doesn't seem to spill over into actual relationships and achievements. Whether it's seeing doofuses kicking career goals while I can't even get people to reply to my emails, or the disillusioning sight of people I have crushes on getting it on with other people, I constantly wonder what I am doing wrong.
But my computer's sound card has died, depriving me of some of my greatest enjoyments - listening to music on Pandora and MySpazz, and watching YouTube clips. I am feeling lasagne. This is a feeling of such sadness that only lasagne can ameliorate it. I have a scale of cheese and tomato (with or without accompanying meats), you see:
Already happy = toastie
A little flat or tired = tinned spaghetti
Need a little cheering up = pizza
Need a lot of cheering up = parma
Extremely sad = lasagne
The best lasagne is to be had at Pellegrini's. It is cheesy and has chunks of meat and vegetables, and you only need a fork to eat it. And they call me "signorina bella", which, as I've previously said, is important. However the coffee there is really terrible and it made my stomach churn.
Basically, I am tired of giving myself away for free, and being left behind in life. Of course I can't go into detail about any of this here, as I don't want any of the people who monitor this blog to know and be offended by what is bothering me. But in my better moods I can see that I am a talented and attractive person. This just doesn't seem to spill over into actual relationships and achievements. Whether it's seeing doofuses kicking career goals while I can't even get people to reply to my emails, or the disillusioning sight of people I have crushes on getting it on with other people, I constantly wonder what I am doing wrong.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Men of today. It has been well documented (mostly by me) that I am a retard at this sort of thing, but here are two situations upon which I would like your thoughts. Please don't spray a mouthful of coffee on your monitor; it's not like I'm developing a love life or anything. I'm just curious about certain behaviours of the men of today.
Situation one. The man is married. He is committed to his wife and you know he is not interested in you sexually. You are not particularly interested in him in that way, either. Yet he solicits your friendship in the flirtatious sort of way that you have become used to identifying as courtship. That's precisely it, actually - he is courting you! He tells you that you are wonderful; he is looking forward to his and your first date; his body language is flirtatious; he signs emails with long strings of Xs and Os.
Do you think this man is a genius for extending such chivalrous charm into social interactions? Do you luxuriate in it? Do you think he is being manipulative? Most of all, do you think he behaves like this with 'all the girls'?
Situation two. You were drunk this one time and you groped a man's boobs. Now this man will not let you forget it. Pretty much every time you see him, he manages to bring it up somehow. And then you're out on Friday and you're hugging people goodbye, and he says, "Aren't you going to feel me up?" So you do. Not the boobs though, for you are not so drunk this time.
This man is trying to humiliate you, isn't he? Would it be remiss to say to him, "Listen, unless you actually want to fuck me, just never mention this again, okay?" Or should you graciously endure his continuing mockery?
Situation one. The man is married. He is committed to his wife and you know he is not interested in you sexually. You are not particularly interested in him in that way, either. Yet he solicits your friendship in the flirtatious sort of way that you have become used to identifying as courtship. That's precisely it, actually - he is courting you! He tells you that you are wonderful; he is looking forward to his and your first date; his body language is flirtatious; he signs emails with long strings of Xs and Os.
Do you think this man is a genius for extending such chivalrous charm into social interactions? Do you luxuriate in it? Do you think he is being manipulative? Most of all, do you think he behaves like this with 'all the girls'?
Situation two. You were drunk this one time and you groped a man's boobs. Now this man will not let you forget it. Pretty much every time you see him, he manages to bring it up somehow. And then you're out on Friday and you're hugging people goodbye, and he says, "Aren't you going to feel me up?" So you do. Not the boobs though, for you are not so drunk this time.
This man is trying to humiliate you, isn't he? Would it be remiss to say to him, "Listen, unless you actually want to fuck me, just never mention this again, okay?" Or should you graciously endure his continuing mockery?
