ummmmm

ooo

ahhhh mmm
ahem

ahhh he hee ehm

no im not at the dentist
or having an orgasm

but i dont know what to write.

so i just want to say hello ok?

HI.

gday. wassup?

ok i tried to write something...
to no avail. ill try tomorrow. maybe.

xx





ps. i thought id get in on the 'so hot right now' pony thing... but i like camels better
i see them every sunday at the market. have you ever looked at their feet? they are amazing..
there
i WROTE sumthin'

its late and cold

and i have a cold. and i have school work up to my ear holes, maybe my eyeballs too,
so it seems the perfect time to blob...

i always think of nice things to write, much like mr simon...
but get distracted and forget them

i ate jaffas today, lots of them and sat and stared at the computer (and im still staring!) and i went to marias trattoria on peel st in north melbourne and ate pasta, and then chewed on a killer python... i had the pleasure of sharing the evening with gen and murray
and we talked about what the best word to use for vaginas is (vadge), that the use of the word doodle is inappropriate after the age of 2 (someone we know uses it alot???) and that the funniest thing to do is to say whatever you were going to say but put the emphasis on the wrong syllable and you'll laugh like a hyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeena.
a fucking hyeeena.

the beauty of language.

last night i had a romantic interlude.
and didnt go home when
maybe i should have
but maybe it was a relapse
but it was so nice i dont really care

but no sleep means my nose is running like a leaky hose
a goddam fire hose

murray has a blackboard on his porch
which the whole street contributes to
and draws on (ghostpatrol who are you?? we think you are pretty)
and appropriates
at their will and incognito

my favourite balckboard quote;

"your sideways glances warm
my timber bones"

ill try to be a little more consistant with blobbing
now im not working its hard to while away the hours on the intra-ma-net...

thanks for all your nice comments lately

xx
problematic

PS ITS ALMOST TIME TO CRAK OUT THE QUINCE BRANDY mmmmmmmm

semi precious

and so my red legs return to their black homes
now that i have done some washing
which is getting a crusty stiffness
in front of the heater
the whole apartment smells like
laundry, clean laundry

**

last night i caught the last tram home from
the studio

in the misty light and engrossed in my latest issue
of voiceworks (the genre issue)
i missed my stop

so i walked and through the foggy silence
and in the distance
i could see about five men
sweeping, scooping, brushing, washing and watching

shhh sshhhh shshhh

echoed through the park,

and as i got closer i realise the colour on the road

a big emerald green strip, i couldnt walk on it,
and had to stop and stare at the glistening colour
before they flatten it into the tarmac
the colour resembled
the glistening filaments of astro turf in the hardware

and when i got to my room,
a cold nose, cold fingertips,
i went to sleep to the sounds of shovels and giant brooms
washing the semi precious gems across the gravel

red legs

whats going on? im having one of those things where
you dont get much work done and then everything else becomes
intensely important
and you are taken up with
minor
meagre
details.

it has not been a good couple of weeks, no
but im not defeated
yet

just going slightly insane due to;

my poorness (how to pay yesterdays rent?)
and the guilt of being a shit housemate
(never cleaning, cooking, buying food, never here)
and that feeling that yes perhaps it is unavoidable that
i will be alone

ive been saying all the wrong things at the wrong times

gen bought me poppies
they are slowly unfolding at my desk
from being so crumpled to being so fine and transparent
i love watching them
three have opened today already

she told me about a place in tasmania
where there is a strange religion in a little
town where a friend of her's lives

they have to wear scarves on their heads and
long skirts
and they believe heaven is at the end of a street in
that town
gens friend lives on that street
but the wrong end

"heaven is at the end of my street
and i live at the wrong end"

we decided that would be a good song

these people also believe that
you cant look at any type of screen
not a computer or a television

but they correspond with the leader of their religion by email

they go to the nearest computer place
which is run by two gay guys in the town and
get the men to log in to the email and
print off their correspondance

crazy

today is foggy
but im wearing red stockings
a distracting flash of red here and ther

perhaps today will be a good day?