today was so cold that IT WAS SNOWING IN STANTHORPE
for those of you unfamiliar with lands north of Chatswood - Stanthorpe is home to "the big apple". Its a hole of a town south of toowoomba but north of wallangarra in the darling downs/granite belt.
Apparently bondi was the coldest its been in 200 years - which put a bit of a dampener on buying slips of fabric for SCRAG. she's got her hens night reenactment next thursday. I think sh'es got enough outfits - but you never know.....
anway - I was trying out a size 8 singlet in insane flouro pink Engrish (for me, not scragg) and the phone rang (I HATE answering the phone in a changeroom) and then the text bell went off:
"Hay sweetie. Y wont u talk 2 me?do u hate me that much?im sorry if u feel that way about me.im only human and i have feelings2! Take care.xx" 16.11.06 @12.38
Sweetie is one of those misused epithets that even I like to misapply in SMSspace. Compliant coyness. Unctiousness.Ick
But who the fuck takes *me* for a 'sweetie'?
Pussycat maybe - but sweetie???? for fuck's sake my photo shows a CUNT ON My HEAD!
Sweetness is in the mouth of the beholder I ponder as a suck on another salmiaki.
Salmiaki are finnish licorice lollies - intensely flavoured wiht ammonia. they are an aquired taste.and kind of sweet.
I cnan't really write tonight and tonight I hate my life.
I've been sleeping 15 hours per day and sobbing for about 3. that leaves 6 hours - of which I spend about 2 in meals, anohter 2 in masturbatin or some random errand - and hey presto! no more time!
i've got shitloads of makring to finish, plus long overdue chapter and some paper to write in the next fortnight.
Oh - and My stomach has been FUCKING SORE, and I've got THRUSH FROM HELL, and yesterday in YOGA I was so plagued by PILES that I could barely stand up! Hobbling across the road afterwards - I had ridiculous visions of me being crushed by traffic and thought 'what a fucking stupid way to go. I private sick chuckle caught in my throat as I gasped in pain.
I think it was the shoulder stand that did it.
(that is such a typically tragic me sort of thing to happen - so bad and so funny I had to laugh - ouch).
today I sobbed on Abel's shoulder and tried to dump the consort. My firend in finland sent me a text saying she was heartbroken and my firend in NYC rang me to tell me the same.
so strangely, I'm not alone. It's a lacrymose season the world over.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Sunday, November 12, 2006
miss understanding
today I got back from yoga to the delightful little missives below:
"Hay maggie! didnt go 2 the mines.just thought 2 let u know.You may not give a shit! After my smartass texts i gave u.but dontget me wrong. It was all a big miss understanding and sorry if it upset u.x @10.18am"
indeed!
Last fortnight, Katrina Fox's column is SX - had a great and funny piece about 'the standard' abusive txts from dykes to each other. MOstly along the lines of :"Hey bitch,I wanna fuck you with one of my 10 dildo's with other girls names on them" "why haven't you replied you stupid fuck? go fuck yourself then"....... and the Foxy Femme was laughing at how straight girls don't take shit from men - and make formal protests from far less abusvie texts.......
and I reckon straight girls have got a point. No one deserves to put up with annoying harrassing shit - from a man or a woman - and no-one should feel they have the right to dish it out.
I gues that's what motivated me to start publishing the texts from psychobunny up on my blog.
Because I find this shit totally unnacceptable, and outrageous, and assume other people do. And I don't think its a private matter - its a very public matter.
I assumed that by being NICE to someone on a one night stand - that would earn me some level of esteem and respect. But no!
so in future I'll try to drop a turd in bed or something.
well, maybe not.
and the niceness gets me worried to: the nice girl role sounds like the 'rape script' scenarios that I've hjust been teaching to the earnest undergrand sof Austrlaia's oldest university.
(Sharon Marcus's argument) - that rape happens because rapists start pushing limits, skirting along boundaries and taking the nice pollite ocmpliance role that women have and pushing it, and pushing it and pushing it. Meanwhile women 'go along' being nice, pollite, sweet. Acting available - not syaing 'fuck off you freak'....until things get out of control.ad then sometimes not even then.
Sigh
I think of my own histories - of coercion and nastiness. Even now I don't use the R word. Because there was no clothes tearing, no screams, no scratches. Because I didn't say no. Well not very loudly and only a few times. and not because I didn't say yes.
Ir emember bieng a small pubsecent mayhem. watching scary sixty mintes stories about "the horror of rape" (TM) and thinking 'yeah, it if happens to me, I'll play dead and pretend to go a long with it; so he won't notice".
I think I was 9 at the time?
I'm not denying that violent rape is horrible and violating and a thing that any right thinking woman should be terrified of.
But Isn't it any more horrifying having 9 year old girls writing little secret scripts for themselves - for how they'll comply, collapse and cope when the big bad monster comes to eat them up?
and of course - when a big bad monster did violate me a few years later..... I was sweet and silent and kind of confused and very very sad - but it took YEARS for me to let myself feel anger.
It didn't seem like the bad stories from TV. It wasn't violent, it wasn't a stranger, and I still had my hymen afterwards.
anywya - enough of sad scary stories.
Being socialised as female - living in fear becomes so habitual as to feel instinctive. the nocturnal key clutching, the nocturnal purda, staying home in a locked up house. Staying still, silent, sober and sensible. not taking risks. not drawing attention to oneself.
so its strange how when I've felt real fear - this time around - I've been strangely calm. splitting off and calmly typing out the tome.
but the rest of the time - when I'm not actively avoiding my feeling of being shit scared - I'm in a constant state of anxiety. Whingeing about the consort, fretting about Abel, and err... yeah. Avoiding my feelings of fear, distress, irritation and anger. That its happened again. That poeple trat me like shit. that poeple don't understand me. that as uch as I try to be nice and sweet and generous and clear, I still get pushed into corners, squeezed into shapes I don't fit into and not listened to when I protest.
Maybe its time to take up kickboxing.
"Hay maggie! didnt go 2 the mines.just thought 2 let u know.You may not give a shit! After my smartass texts i gave u.but dontget me wrong. It was all a big miss understanding and sorry if it upset u.x @10.18am"
indeed!
Last fortnight, Katrina Fox's column is SX - had a great and funny piece about 'the standard' abusive txts from dykes to each other. MOstly along the lines of :"Hey bitch,I wanna fuck you with one of my 10 dildo's with other girls names on them" "why haven't you replied you stupid fuck? go fuck yourself then"....... and the Foxy Femme was laughing at how straight girls don't take shit from men - and make formal protests from far less abusvie texts.......
and I reckon straight girls have got a point. No one deserves to put up with annoying harrassing shit - from a man or a woman - and no-one should feel they have the right to dish it out.
I gues that's what motivated me to start publishing the texts from psychobunny up on my blog.
Because I find this shit totally unnacceptable, and outrageous, and assume other people do. And I don't think its a private matter - its a very public matter.
I assumed that by being NICE to someone on a one night stand - that would earn me some level of esteem and respect. But no!
so in future I'll try to drop a turd in bed or something.
well, maybe not.
and the niceness gets me worried to: the nice girl role sounds like the 'rape script' scenarios that I've hjust been teaching to the earnest undergrand sof Austrlaia's oldest university.
(Sharon Marcus's argument) - that rape happens because rapists start pushing limits, skirting along boundaries and taking the nice pollite ocmpliance role that women have and pushing it, and pushing it and pushing it. Meanwhile women 'go along' being nice, pollite, sweet. Acting available - not syaing 'fuck off you freak'....until things get out of control.ad then sometimes not even then.
Sigh
I think of my own histories - of coercion and nastiness. Even now I don't use the R word. Because there was no clothes tearing, no screams, no scratches. Because I didn't say no. Well not very loudly and only a few times. and not because I didn't say yes.
Ir emember bieng a small pubsecent mayhem. watching scary sixty mintes stories about "the horror of rape" (TM) and thinking 'yeah, it if happens to me, I'll play dead and pretend to go a long with it; so he won't notice".
I think I was 9 at the time?
I'm not denying that violent rape is horrible and violating and a thing that any right thinking woman should be terrified of.
But Isn't it any more horrifying having 9 year old girls writing little secret scripts for themselves - for how they'll comply, collapse and cope when the big bad monster comes to eat them up?
and of course - when a big bad monster did violate me a few years later..... I was sweet and silent and kind of confused and very very sad - but it took YEARS for me to let myself feel anger.
It didn't seem like the bad stories from TV. It wasn't violent, it wasn't a stranger, and I still had my hymen afterwards.
anywya - enough of sad scary stories.
Being socialised as female - living in fear becomes so habitual as to feel instinctive. the nocturnal key clutching, the nocturnal purda, staying home in a locked up house. Staying still, silent, sober and sensible. not taking risks. not drawing attention to oneself.
so its strange how when I've felt real fear - this time around - I've been strangely calm. splitting off and calmly typing out the tome.
but the rest of the time - when I'm not actively avoiding my feeling of being shit scared - I'm in a constant state of anxiety. Whingeing about the consort, fretting about Abel, and err... yeah. Avoiding my feelings of fear, distress, irritation and anger. That its happened again. That poeple trat me like shit. that poeple don't understand me. that as uch as I try to be nice and sweet and generous and clear, I still get pushed into corners, squeezed into shapes I don't fit into and not listened to when I protest.
Maybe its time to take up kickboxing.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Saga dribbles on......
I decided that "halloween horror" was a bit melodramatic for all those texts I kept receiving.
and I heard nothing for a week - unitl today, when rolling over from my sweet nocturnal slumbers at chez consort, I read this on my phone.
Message:
R u free 4 sum lovin. 11 Nov 2006 @2.25
My vagina twitched and spontaneously siezed up with thrush. Bloody hell. Lucky I've got 30 essays to mark
and I heard nothing for a week - unitl today, when rolling over from my sweet nocturnal slumbers at chez consort, I read this on my phone.
Message:
R u free 4 sum lovin. 11 Nov 2006 @2.25
My vagina twitched and spontaneously siezed up with thrush. Bloody hell. Lucky I've got 30 essays to mark
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Halloween Horror Volume 10
today was a particular delight - and so persuaded me that such genius needs to be liberated from my phone and deserves to shared with the world. Psycho bunny has taken excerpts of my texts to her (dated from monday- which I've italisized and placed in inverted commas) and added her own comments (in bold)
Sunday 5th November 2006-11-05
"Wow! U mean the mines? Fucking hell!" @15.01
"I know u r real coz I can still taste u & I’ll never wash my sheets again!" @15.02
"Stop it or I’ll hav 2 mop the carpet! Am I dreaming or r u real? Xxx" i am real.x 15.04
"U’re butch enuff 4 me & u don’t need 2 pack 2 impress! Xxx" only a dildo a condom and lube will do 2 impress.? @15.10
"SPEWIN! If only u told me! I just got an email request 2 talk at some do @ hollywood pub on wed 8pm. Wanna come? We can cum after!" What? @15.11
"Not 2day coz if I c u I’ll drag u bak 2 bed! Thanx 4 last night & 2day & I can’t w8 4 wed! I feel like a dog on heat!" U know what they say about being on heat?I don’t sleep with dogs. U only get fleas.wed was that good. I cant remember it was that great!.i think I had some dog on heat fuck me around? @15.25
"A dildo mayb? Cool! Seriously I’m flat out till wed so if ur in town can we meet then? Please? 8-)" had u begging 4 more.got all 2much 4 u sweetie.u had me all wrong.when u thought I wanted more.don’t like being fucked around. @15.32
"I’m just a pathetic phd student with no life! Writing sux but I hav 2 keep trying & keep my mind off sexy women like u!" if only u had the time.and u have a life! But its your pathetic excuses that sux. @15.37
"Sorry I couldn’t call back.2day is crazy but I hope 2 chat L8r! xxx" we never did have that chat. Whats your excuse that time. No credit? @15.42
"Shagging the woman of my dreams! How abt u?" if only that was true.u’d b inheaven by now.u can just keep on dreaming baby while im gone.x @15.52
"I know u r real coz I can still taste u & I’ll never wash my sheets again!" This is what u ran away from. I was 2 real and u got a taste of that realness. That’s y u’ll never wash your sheets again cause u r afraid u’ll never have that again!I had no intentions 4 other than great sex with u.x @16.02
(after this one I was wondering if she'd read Lacan and was playing some stupid joke based on the Symbolic order.....)
"Wow! U mean the mines? Fucking hell!" That’s where im heading on Thursday.lets hope its not hell.was informed theres a sexy girl already there waiting 4 me.how cool.she cant wait.don’t know what it in 4? @16.19
Sunday 5th November 2006-11-05
"Wow! U mean the mines? Fucking hell!" @15.01
"I know u r real coz I can still taste u & I’ll never wash my sheets again!" @15.02
"Stop it or I’ll hav 2 mop the carpet! Am I dreaming or r u real? Xxx" i am real.x 15.04
"U’re butch enuff 4 me & u don’t need 2 pack 2 impress! Xxx" only a dildo a condom and lube will do 2 impress.? @15.10
"SPEWIN! If only u told me! I just got an email request 2 talk at some do @ hollywood pub on wed 8pm. Wanna come? We can cum after!" What? @15.11
"Not 2day coz if I c u I’ll drag u bak 2 bed! Thanx 4 last night & 2day & I can’t w8 4 wed! I feel like a dog on heat!" U know what they say about being on heat?I don’t sleep with dogs. U only get fleas.wed was that good. I cant remember it was that great!.i think I had some dog on heat fuck me around? @15.25
"A dildo mayb? Cool! Seriously I’m flat out till wed so if ur in town can we meet then? Please? 8-)" had u begging 4 more.got all 2much 4 u sweetie.u had me all wrong.when u thought I wanted more.don’t like being fucked around. @15.32
"I’m just a pathetic phd student with no life! Writing sux but I hav 2 keep trying & keep my mind off sexy women like u!" if only u had the time.and u have a life! But its your pathetic excuses that sux. @15.37
"Sorry I couldn’t call back.2day is crazy but I hope 2 chat L8r! xxx" we never did have that chat. Whats your excuse that time. No credit? @15.42
"Shagging the woman of my dreams! How abt u?" if only that was true.u’d b inheaven by now.u can just keep on dreaming baby while im gone.x @15.52
"I know u r real coz I can still taste u & I’ll never wash my sheets again!" This is what u ran away from. I was 2 real and u got a taste of that realness. That’s y u’ll never wash your sheets again cause u r afraid u’ll never have that again!I had no intentions 4 other than great sex with u.x @16.02
(after this one I was wondering if she'd read Lacan and was playing some stupid joke based on the Symbolic order.....)
"Wow! U mean the mines? Fucking hell!" That’s where im heading on Thursday.lets hope its not hell.was informed theres a sexy girl already there waiting 4 me.how cool.she cant wait.don’t know what it in 4? @16.19
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Halloween Horror Volume 9
Saturday 4th November 2006
Do u want 2 fuck the women of your dreams. Then call me. U have my no.x @ 2.19
Do u want 2 fuck the women of your dreams. Then call me. U have my no.x @ 2.19
Friday, November 03, 2006
Halloween Horror Volume 8
After avoiding a number of non identified callers on my mobile and hiding from a knock on the door I thought I'd better get some advice. I asked people at uni what to do and someone suggested that I answer the phone and ask psychobunny to stop sending me messags and be polite but firm and state that I was no longer interested. so i did this at about 7pm - when I got home from uni and the phone rang. And she was polite and seemed to agree - but then rang two mre times before sending a final text..... for the day.
Friday 3rd November
Went 2 c the guy I had trouble with at the hospital. He 2 c the guy ihad trouble with at the hospital. He is fine he was one drug when all shite hit the fan with me.its all good. Dropped the charges. Phew.had 2 clear my name.it was all in defence.and he admitted it in front of the cops.im releaved.x @9.11
Hay sweetie.since u wont speak 2 me. Would it b asking 2 much if I can have your mailing address?xxx @10.59
Look babe im still here in Sydney. but like 2know whats going on with u.do u want 2 catch up 2night?xxx 15.54
U werea delight babe.the last text u will get from me.take care and wathcout at the flying fox.xx.a lot of trash go there.slyfox sux. 19.11
Friday 3rd November
Went 2 c the guy I had trouble with at the hospital. He 2 c the guy ihad trouble with at the hospital. He is fine he was one drug when all shite hit the fan with me.its all good. Dropped the charges. Phew.had 2 clear my name.it was all in defence.and he admitted it in front of the cops.im releaved.x @9.11
Hay sweetie.since u wont speak 2 me. Would it b asking 2 much if I can have your mailing address?xxx @10.59
Look babe im still here in Sydney. but like 2know whats going on with u.do u want 2 catch up 2night?xxx 15.54
U werea delight babe.the last text u will get from me.take care and wathcout at the flying fox.xx.a lot of trash go there.slyfox sux. 19.11
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Halloween Horror Volume 7
I've included the last text I sent before running out of credit. Now you get the creepy picture.
Thursday 2nd November 2006
How u feel babe? @11.59
M: Better than last night. i'm trying to make up 4 lost time time & working. how about u? @12.03
Went 2 slyfox.big punch up with sum guys. Cops ambos what a fucking night. @12.08
Im getting the fuck out of Sydney. the cops want 2 charge me 4 assalting. When I was only defending myself.they r saying he’s in a bad way.it was him or me?it sure wasn’t going 2 b me.it was all fair he picked me! It happened so fast.what a fuck.didnt mean 2 hurt him that bad.he was hasselling me most the night.i only hit him when he tried 2 kiss me.and it was one hit he went down it was over.no im introuble.fuck it. @12.47
Im a lover. Not a fighter. @15.56
Whats this about? Is it u don’t want 2 talk 2 me? R u upset with what happened? Im not the type 2 b in any sort of violents by anymeans. Please u need 2 have a greater understanding of me. @19.50
U’ve got it all wrong about me.if u think 4 1 moment that im into that sort of crap.it just all went wrong when he grabed me I just reacted.it was unexspected. Please talk to me babe.x @20.42
Private no calling: 21:02, 21:07. 21:29,
Goodbye my lover goodbye my friend.you had been the one 4 me. Xxx @23:55
Thursday 2nd November 2006
How u feel babe? @11.59
M: Better than last night. i'm trying to make up 4 lost time time & working. how about u? @12.03
Went 2 slyfox.big punch up with sum guys. Cops ambos what a fucking night. @12.08
Im getting the fuck out of Sydney. the cops want 2 charge me 4 assalting. When I was only defending myself.they r saying he’s in a bad way.it was him or me?it sure wasn’t going 2 b me.it was all fair he picked me! It happened so fast.what a fuck.didnt mean 2 hurt him that bad.he was hasselling me most the night.i only hit him when he tried 2 kiss me.and it was one hit he went down it was over.no im introuble.fuck it. @12.47
Im a lover. Not a fighter. @15.56
Whats this about? Is it u don’t want 2 talk 2 me? R u upset with what happened? Im not the type 2 b in any sort of violents by anymeans. Please u need 2 have a greater understanding of me. @19.50
U’ve got it all wrong about me.if u think 4 1 moment that im into that sort of crap.it just all went wrong when he grabed me I just reacted.it was unexspected. Please talk to me babe.x @20.42
Private no calling: 21:02, 21:07. 21:29,
Goodbye my lover goodbye my friend.you had been the one 4 me. Xxx @23:55
Bad Pussy!
Well, sometimes it can be damn hard to shake off the recovering catholicism.
I'm hoping that listening to a customised CD of kathellisism will do the trick - but yeah.....
OK in the catholic scheme of things - we are born to suffer, and jesus suffered for our sins, and if they hit you it hurts them more than it hurts you, and life is fundamentally tragic and you can't ever forget that, and people have it so much worse than us and never forget that however happy you might feel that you could lose it all in a minute and never forget that how sad you feel that someone has it so much worse, and so don't ever let yourself feel too happy or too sad, and don't think of yourself too much and don't think of yourself becaus eits selfish and you should always think of others, and pray for them.
and EVERY PLEASURE will be punished. you will suffer for your sins.
so what has this to do with mayhem? sitting typing late at night on a keyboard, working on her tome, working on her blog, planning more transgressive fun and random wild and crazy shit and having such a wild and crazy life and being so damn... COOL, and POPULAR, and having so much FUN?
well, Last weeks naughtiness - seems to have landed mayhem in a bit of hot water. That nice butch girl turns out to be a bit bloody intense.
ten texts per day kind of intense.
boasting about punch ups and then whining and groveling and making all kinds of WEIRD apologetic excuses - and dropping werid arsed disaster scenarios on me - "I'm leaving today! No i'm not! you've blown it! - i'll give you one last chance."
I went and hid at the consorts for 2 days with a bundle of marking and my tax return. Meanwhile she texted me salaciously describing naked sailing adventures on the harbour.
I had visions of a naked woman atop a 56 foot yacht saiing into delwood beach, and felt kind of aroused and kind of weird.
and the weird hot/cold psychodrama alternate reality monologue kind of reminds me of 'he that died not a moment too soon', my long deceased patermonster.
YUCK.
I was weepy and clingy and couldn't really explain why. fortunately consort can give me the pips but is really great when I'm messy (which is basically all those times when I'm not blogging about how fabbo my life is). He doesn't ask for explanations - just gives nice hugs and tender kisses and cooks good meals.
so after 2 days of pampering and soothing tenderness, I recrossed the harbour and collapsed with a migraine for 18 hours.
and migraines - those weird cerebral explosions can be pretty good for sorting out cobwebs and confusion. (tho its a pretty painful way to do it)
and I realised that the sapphic sex goddes is just a selfish psycho. Texting me till midnight ondering if she could breathe smokey boozy breath alll over me and fuck me as well.
(I guess she's never had a migraine - or she just has no clue).
so.
I'm doing my wallish act. Blankness . no responses. & my phone is switched off.
so, giiven such a messy complication - its easy to BLAME MYSELF.
You know? for taking risks. for fucking someone who hadn't fucked at least 3 of my friends.
for fucking a stranger, strangely
for being greedy and needy and trashy and enjoying being seduced and trashed and treated like trash and dominated and pushed around just a little....
for enjoying it.
but oh but.
Like TEDG says: a kiss is not a contract, and nor is a fuck.
and I was pretty clear the whole way through that "i'm not girlfirend material, I fuck around, and intend to keep doing so".
but psycho bunny doesn't appear to have ears.
so mayhem has retreated to assiduous work on the tome - only heading out with a masculine escort (hah! not quite) and hiding my phone.....
next time I have a random one nite stand - I go to their house - get their surname and address so if they turn psycho i can call the cops and get an AVO faster.....
I'm hoping that listening to a customised CD of kathellisism will do the trick - but yeah.....
OK in the catholic scheme of things - we are born to suffer, and jesus suffered for our sins, and if they hit you it hurts them more than it hurts you, and life is fundamentally tragic and you can't ever forget that, and people have it so much worse than us and never forget that however happy you might feel that you could lose it all in a minute and never forget that how sad you feel that someone has it so much worse, and so don't ever let yourself feel too happy or too sad, and don't think of yourself too much and don't think of yourself becaus eits selfish and you should always think of others, and pray for them.
and EVERY PLEASURE will be punished. you will suffer for your sins.
so what has this to do with mayhem? sitting typing late at night on a keyboard, working on her tome, working on her blog, planning more transgressive fun and random wild and crazy shit and having such a wild and crazy life and being so damn... COOL, and POPULAR, and having so much FUN?
well, Last weeks naughtiness - seems to have landed mayhem in a bit of hot water. That nice butch girl turns out to be a bit bloody intense.
ten texts per day kind of intense.
boasting about punch ups and then whining and groveling and making all kinds of WEIRD apologetic excuses - and dropping werid arsed disaster scenarios on me - "I'm leaving today! No i'm not! you've blown it! - i'll give you one last chance."
I went and hid at the consorts for 2 days with a bundle of marking and my tax return. Meanwhile she texted me salaciously describing naked sailing adventures on the harbour.
I had visions of a naked woman atop a 56 foot yacht saiing into delwood beach, and felt kind of aroused and kind of weird.
and the weird hot/cold psychodrama alternate reality monologue kind of reminds me of 'he that died not a moment too soon', my long deceased patermonster.
YUCK.
I was weepy and clingy and couldn't really explain why. fortunately consort can give me the pips but is really great when I'm messy (which is basically all those times when I'm not blogging about how fabbo my life is). He doesn't ask for explanations - just gives nice hugs and tender kisses and cooks good meals.
so after 2 days of pampering and soothing tenderness, I recrossed the harbour and collapsed with a migraine for 18 hours.
and migraines - those weird cerebral explosions can be pretty good for sorting out cobwebs and confusion. (tho its a pretty painful way to do it)
and I realised that the sapphic sex goddes is just a selfish psycho. Texting me till midnight ondering if she could breathe smokey boozy breath alll over me and fuck me as well.
(I guess she's never had a migraine - or she just has no clue).
so.
I'm doing my wallish act. Blankness . no responses. & my phone is switched off.
so, giiven such a messy complication - its easy to BLAME MYSELF.
You know? for taking risks. for fucking someone who hadn't fucked at least 3 of my friends.
for fucking a stranger, strangely
for being greedy and needy and trashy and enjoying being seduced and trashed and treated like trash and dominated and pushed around just a little....
for enjoying it.
but oh but.
Like TEDG says: a kiss is not a contract, and nor is a fuck.
and I was pretty clear the whole way through that "i'm not girlfirend material, I fuck around, and intend to keep doing so".
but psycho bunny doesn't appear to have ears.
so mayhem has retreated to assiduous work on the tome - only heading out with a masculine escort (hah! not quite) and hiding my phone.....
next time I have a random one nite stand - I go to their house - get their surname and address so if they turn psycho i can call the cops and get an AVO faster.....
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Halloween Horror Volume 6
Here things started to feel quite odd.
The sympathetic response to my cancelling a date due to migraine was particularly impressive. (I've included my texts below). I really liked the baseball analogy (with my batting skills it was never really going to be great rhetorical device). That's when I decided it was over.
Wednesday 1st November 2006
Ive got 2 fly up 2 queensland don’t know what time I’ll b back.u know the plain that went down? I’ll b back in Sydney at about 8pm.friend has arranged it 4 me.Im tyring 2 get out of not going.. @ 11.14
Cool. @11.30
Ive been put on stndby about the job at the airport. I need to hang around so that means im not going 2 go up north jus yet.so I may c u at 8 at the hollywood.x @ 11.41
Hay sweetie.whats your plans after the holllywood speech? @12.43
Fuck! u r out of your mind. @14.02
Sorry babe. Your not out of your mind. Jus crazy 4 a girl like u.xxxx @14.43
M: I've got a migraine & period pain & im going 2 hide in a dark room till i'm ok. so sorry 2 do this 2 u! I shd b ok by fri but i'll b in contact. xxx @17.03
Hope u r feeling better sooner than Friday.take care and c u soon. Not 2 happy about it I must say. Is that the 3rd strike? @ 17.13
Hay how u feeling? R u ok? Do u need anything?is there anything I can do 4 u?please let me know when u get text.x @21.30
M: I'm ok thx 2 ear plugs, tiger balm & aspirin. I just got 2 rest & w8 till it stips. I also have 2 do a shitload of marking b4 fri! I'll dream of u till then.xxx @21.36
Well then.im no good 4 u.when your feelin like that? @21.44
Would u like it 4 me 2 ease your mind and sooth you body? @22.03
M: Stale tobacco wd make me vomit right now 1.11.06 @22.03
What? I wont smoke then!how fuctdo u feel babe? @ 22.08
The sympathetic response to my cancelling a date due to migraine was particularly impressive. (I've included my texts below). I really liked the baseball analogy (with my batting skills it was never really going to be great rhetorical device). That's when I decided it was over.
Wednesday 1st November 2006
Ive got 2 fly up 2 queensland don’t know what time I’ll b back.u know the plain that went down? I’ll b back in Sydney at about 8pm.friend has arranged it 4 me.Im tyring 2 get out of not going.. @ 11.14
Cool. @11.30
Ive been put on stndby about the job at the airport. I need to hang around so that means im not going 2 go up north jus yet.so I may c u at 8 at the hollywood.x @ 11.41
Hay sweetie.whats your plans after the holllywood speech? @12.43
Fuck! u r out of your mind. @14.02
Sorry babe. Your not out of your mind. Jus crazy 4 a girl like u.xxxx @14.43
M: I've got a migraine & period pain & im going 2 hide in a dark room till i'm ok. so sorry 2 do this 2 u! I shd b ok by fri but i'll b in contact. xxx @17.03
Hope u r feeling better sooner than Friday.take care and c u soon. Not 2 happy about it I must say. Is that the 3rd strike? @ 17.13
Hay how u feeling? R u ok? Do u need anything?is there anything I can do 4 u?please let me know when u get text.x @21.30
M: I'm ok thx 2 ear plugs, tiger balm & aspirin. I just got 2 rest & w8 till it stips. I also have 2 do a shitload of marking b4 fri! I'll dream of u till then.xxx @21.36
Well then.im no good 4 u.when your feelin like that? @21.44
Would u like it 4 me 2 ease your mind and sooth you body? @22.03
M: Stale tobacco wd make me vomit right now 1.11.06 @22.03
What? I wont smoke then!how fuctdo u feel babe? @ 22.08
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Halloween Horror Volume 5
this day seemed reasonably normal.....
Tuesday 31st October 2006
Goodmorning sweetie. Im going sailing on my friends 65 foot yacht 2day.across 2 lady jane beach champain all the goodies. @7.47
Good luck! This is the life.stunning day 2 b havning sex. @10.07
Hay sweetie I hope u didn’t get me wrong. Im save it 4 u. @11.04
So horny tho. @11.06
Did u hear about the plan than went down thanleft the emerald mines? Going 2 gladstone. They think the 3 dead are miners. How fucking freaky. @22.43
Tuesday 31st October 2006
Goodmorning sweetie. Im going sailing on my friends 65 foot yacht 2day.across 2 lady jane beach champain all the goodies. @7.47
Good luck! This is the life.stunning day 2 b havning sex. @10.07
Hay sweetie I hope u didn’t get me wrong. Im save it 4 u. @11.04
So horny tho. @11.06
Did u hear about the plan than went down thanleft the emerald mines? Going 2 gladstone. They think the 3 dead are miners. How fucking freaky. @22.43
Monday, October 30, 2006
Halloween Horror Volume 4
Monday 30.10.06
Am I meeting u at succulents? Cant remember if u said or not? X @10.12
No reply. I guess I was wrong? Been waiting till 11.30. C u wed. I rang 2 change job interview till 2morow at 11.30am 2 c u off I guess that was a wrong fuc up2. Have a great day.x @10.37
That could have been arranged. But u have other commitments and now u can only dream what could have been. Have fun.xthats another u miss out on.3 strikes and your out. @10.59
I’ll let u know. @11.07
Looks like im heading up north 2 night.just waiting 4 phone call. @12.10
Yes babe.isuppose I better start packing. @12.13
What? Jus wear my riggers belt and hard hat? Will that do? @12.18
Don’t 4 get the steel capped boots.and a few tools. What a goo look.and a sweet smile. @12.21
Im real. Didn’t ufeel I was real last nite? Maybe u r dreaming? U never know whats? Around the corner. Life is full of suprizes. Never take it 4 granted. @12.36
The taste will fade. Im not gone yet.as 4 the sheets.u should wash them as the next bitch will b confused. She’ll b fucking the sheets and u might miss out.ha @12.46
Still waiting 4 call. I’ll let u know soon. @12.47
Babe I call the shots.u don’t need 2 cancel 4 me. I can still go at the end of the week. Thatswhat ive arranged. Im waiting 4them 2 give me the OK.but there is a chance I may still have 2 go 2night. @12.59
Will u miss me? Im no great loss. U will get it on and u will 4 get all about me.and it maybe better than ever be 4 I came along. @13.04
You r amazeing babe.thanks 4 your kind nature. U r very real and I like that.go 4 what ever u want in this life now.don’t let anything or anyone deter u what u beleave in.let love show u the way. Love everhting good or bad.its all learning.its allgood.you know what I mean.?x @13.15
Jus got the call babe. @13.57
Cant stop thinking about my cock inside u baby. @16.03
I’ll stop it then. @17.04
Am I meeting u at succulents? Cant remember if u said or not? X @10.12
No reply. I guess I was wrong? Been waiting till 11.30. C u wed. I rang 2 change job interview till 2morow at 11.30am 2 c u off I guess that was a wrong fuc up2. Have a great day.x @10.37
That could have been arranged. But u have other commitments and now u can only dream what could have been. Have fun.xthats another u miss out on.3 strikes and your out. @10.59
I’ll let u know. @11.07
Looks like im heading up north 2 night.just waiting 4 phone call. @12.10
Yes babe.isuppose I better start packing. @12.13
What? Jus wear my riggers belt and hard hat? Will that do? @12.18
Don’t 4 get the steel capped boots.and a few tools. What a goo look.and a sweet smile. @12.21
Im real. Didn’t ufeel I was real last nite? Maybe u r dreaming? U never know whats? Around the corner. Life is full of suprizes. Never take it 4 granted. @12.36
The taste will fade. Im not gone yet.as 4 the sheets.u should wash them as the next bitch will b confused. She’ll b fucking the sheets and u might miss out.ha @12.46
Still waiting 4 call. I’ll let u know soon. @12.47
Babe I call the shots.u don’t need 2 cancel 4 me. I can still go at the end of the week. Thatswhat ive arranged. Im waiting 4them 2 give me the OK.but there is a chance I may still have 2 go 2night. @12.59
Will u miss me? Im no great loss. U will get it on and u will 4 get all about me.and it maybe better than ever be 4 I came along. @13.04
You r amazeing babe.thanks 4 your kind nature. U r very real and I like that.go 4 what ever u want in this life now.don’t let anything or anyone deter u what u beleave in.let love show u the way. Love everhting good or bad.its all learning.its allgood.you know what I mean.?x @13.15
Jus got the call babe. @13.57
Cant stop thinking about my cock inside u baby. @16.03
I’ll stop it then. @17.04
Horse and Carriage
currently I'm completing my Tax return and shuddering at the 43 essays I'm meant to be marking.
However WENDESDAY NIGHT at the HOLLYWOOD HOTEL I'll be busting loose - for some fine chinwagging about sex, gender and sexuality and genitality and lots of other stuff.
It's all in aid of the JACKI PASCOE SALON EXPERIENCE - a residency of weekly perfomrance, music , dance and disocurse organised by local luminary Jacqueline Pascoe.
It'll be like the guest lectures I get paid to do - only I'm not being paid so there'sll be more booty and no powerpoint. ACTUALLY I MIGHT JUST DO A PERFOMRANCE BASED ON MY BLOG RANTS. I'm on a panel with a couple of trannydames and we'll be between two bands - so around 9ish.
the evening kicks off at 8pm - so I hope to see yers there. the hollywood is off commonwealth street in surry hills - ferget the name of the street - its on a corner..... ask some drunk.
Over the weekend Schappylle is doing her interpretation of a South Australian PINK MOLL at an art auction eco conscioussness raising exercise at Mori Gallery at 3pm on Saturday 4th November. Addie is 168 Day Street.
Got this orff a friend - it knd of amused me....
However WENDESDAY NIGHT at the HOLLYWOOD HOTEL I'll be busting loose - for some fine chinwagging about sex, gender and sexuality and genitality and lots of other stuff.
It's all in aid of the JACKI PASCOE SALON EXPERIENCE - a residency of weekly perfomrance, music , dance and disocurse organised by local luminary Jacqueline Pascoe.
It'll be like the guest lectures I get paid to do - only I'm not being paid so there'sll be more booty and no powerpoint. ACTUALLY I MIGHT JUST DO A PERFOMRANCE BASED ON MY BLOG RANTS. I'm on a panel with a couple of trannydames and we'll be between two bands - so around 9ish.
the evening kicks off at 8pm - so I hope to see yers there. the hollywood is off commonwealth street in surry hills - ferget the name of the street - its on a corner..... ask some drunk.
Over the weekend Schappylle is doing her interpretation of a South Australian PINK MOLL at an art auction eco conscioussness raising exercise at Mori Gallery at 3pm on Saturday 4th November. Addie is 168 Day Street.
Got this orff a friend - it knd of amused me....
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Halloween Horror volume 3
This was the day of our second encounter... ohh if only I hadn't left the confines of my little ivy covered scholarly seclusion!
Sunday 29.10.06
That’s the plan.ill text u where 2 meet soon. Im driving at the moment @13.40
Hi sweetie. Where 2 meet? How about u come down 2 the newtwon hotel 4 one drink then we go and eat? Can u do that? @15.29
Cool. @15.33
I cant c u. im near pool table cum over. @18.43
Sunday 29.10.06
That’s the plan.ill text u where 2 meet soon. Im driving at the moment @13.40
Hi sweetie. Where 2 meet? How about u come down 2 the newtwon hotel 4 one drink then we go and eat? Can u do that? @15.29
Cool. @15.33
I cant c u. im near pool table cum over. @18.43
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Halloween Horror Volume 2
this was 2 days after our first encounter. I'd left another encounter up in the air - but swapped phone numbers - I was interested in meeting up but unsure when, but she was kinda persuasive.....
Saturday 28.10.06
Im so horny & u. R u up 4 it? @2.03
Sweet dreams babe. Im out of line sorry.but cant stop thinking about how sweet u tasted. I can still taste u in my mouth.x @2.16
Shame. I could have helped u get your rocks off.licked up your lush sweet pussy and kept u wanting 4 more.x @10.38
I’ll b picking up my tools over the weekend. Jus 4 u. and I hope u will need some adjusting after all the work u r doing? Cant wait 2 c u again.your taste is always on my mouth.and u r on my mind constantly.xxx;-) @11.28
About Sunday night. I would love 2 take u for dinner. I changed my plans as i would rather b sitting across from u enjoying your company and a good feast.xhow about u? x @12.27
8pm is fine.anywhere u like and what ever u desire or would like me 2 choose? As long as its fresh and good im there.let me know baby x. @14.31
Ok sweetie. U r holding me in despence. Thatscool. I’ll just have 2 wait. Is your day going well? @14.48
Saturday 28.10.06
Im so horny & u. R u up 4 it? @2.03
Sweet dreams babe. Im out of line sorry.but cant stop thinking about how sweet u tasted. I can still taste u in my mouth.x @2.16
Shame. I could have helped u get your rocks off.licked up your lush sweet pussy and kept u wanting 4 more.x @10.38
I’ll b picking up my tools over the weekend. Jus 4 u. and I hope u will need some adjusting after all the work u r doing? Cant wait 2 c u again.your taste is always on my mouth.and u r on my mind constantly.xxx;-) @11.28
About Sunday night. I would love 2 take u for dinner. I changed my plans as i would rather b sitting across from u enjoying your company and a good feast.xhow about u? x @12.27
8pm is fine.anywhere u like and what ever u desire or would like me 2 choose? As long as its fresh and good im there.let me know baby x. @14.31
Ok sweetie. U r holding me in despence. Thatscool. I’ll just have 2 wait. Is your day going well? @14.48
Suburban Mayhem
There is some good news.
I think I've found my sexual identity: a trashy femme called Sylvie. All thanks to cheap black wigs from the $2.00 shop and cheap black micro mini's from the $5 scragg shop, and cheap pink breasts from… err.., well the tit goddess, I guess. I've had them for about 25 years……. they don't cost very much at all. a bit of pain now and then. decent Bras. TLC & touch wood.
As the trashy femme, I feel like one of the Bronte sisters, being urged into a mask by their Papa " If you put htis on, you can be whoever you like, say whatever you like, it's not you, it's the mask".
so mayhem went out and was totally trashy on wednesday. Dancing like the whore of babylon, feeling up girls on the dance floor, following butches into toilet cubicles. getting other butches to follow me home. My mother would not be impressed with this at all.
Isn't lesbianism meant to be some sad, reclusive reflective decent thing, done between decent malephobic deeply in love sensitive beings who have no other choice than to seek refuge in a feminine caress?
Aren't lesbians lesbians only in couples and just sad spinsters while waiting for the perfect girl?
Can't we be cured by the perfect senstive non threatening man?
Aren't those piggies in the sky so damn pretty?
Last week, feeling mangofied, lusty, happy, energetic, I SMS'd my favourite femme icon of the month and posted a link to her blog. (see regal bits).
Like zoo (Milky and Ouchy) I too admire her eloquent posting on romance - and wish my browser wasn't so spastic that I can't stick up a link rightaway.......
All this midnight oil burning while the consort slept. He'd retreated into some world of pain/exhaustion/goodexcusefornotfuckingmeapprentlybut tryexplainingthattomycuntcozIain'tseenherearshaveyou?
feeling sexually deprived I naturally thought of the infinite sweetness of breastmik washed down by black bitter beer. Of the smoky succulent residue of ladylips lingering through more beers. Desire burned into me, and lay smouldering all week.
I wanked. a lot.
couldn't write. Wanted to sob. did sob. missed Abel. Listened to too much music. Wanted more. My head started throbbing. I had to get out. I took my migraine to yoga, and gently breathed. Realised that I had to get out. and move.
I had to go out and shake my bits, move like I was fucking and being fucked, and maybe even be fucked - but even just going through the motions lets off some thing.
my vagina, strange phallophillic and deaf creature that she is - is a marvelous dance instructor. (even more, I dare say, than the consort - though no-one's paid $80 an hour for her lessons).
she of course, leads. she leads me, she moves and moves me where and when and how she wants to go. Ever other limb, every other muscle follows her.
this explains the beatific smile on my face when I dance. It's like fucking nothing.
and I delightedly got led home by some incredible crinkle eyed butch, wiht a husky voice and eyes like the ocean, and hands like GOD (if a decent once exists) and Jesus - there's a whole world of women I need to sleep with because I think i've been missing out up to this point.
and I realised what I like in a man was being taken in the way that I want a woman to take me. hard, strong. No doubts. that self assurance.......
dykes don't ever ask if you've come or not.
when I told the consort he sobbed a lot but said it wasn't about me, and I'm still stupidly hoping for some sex from him, and meanwhile the saphhic sex god has been texting me every hour, and my twat throbs and I need to wank, and it's REALLY HARD to write.
the downside of the saphic sex god is that she is a chain smoker. and she doesn't drink coffee. She rang me one morning before I'd had mine. she didn't try again. I don't form words before coffee. (All the more Kudos to the consort for being the same way). I'm also scared she wants another girlfriend, she's talking about not moving interstate after all and has already tkaen her sex toys out of storage (ohhh lucky me!). i'm scared to tell her I've been bonking a man.
I wandered donwstairs and sought the advice of TEDG - whose a bit of a postgender sex god after her talk on thursday.
I asked her if I should maybe solve my problems by telling these inadequate, confusing and demanding people that I've FALLEN IN LOVE WITH ABEL AND WE'RE BACK TOGETHER.
those nice bonk/play buddies wouldn't have to be told - coz they don't make any demands. Just proffer bits of flesh, soothing caresses and naughtiness in between meals, coffees, conversations, mangoes..... which is all I want to do with anyone right now.
No fucking demands, no fucking expectations, no fucking dramas, no fucking posession.
Just lots of angst free, smoke free, game free fucking.
TEDG tried to persuade me that I shouldn't make up stories about Abel coz they might come true and that I probably do have the skills to actually ask for my needs to be met, directly from the intimates concerned.
but times like these I wish life could be like one of those ads for working dogs in the "the Land" newspaper.
Bailing, binding half-bull bitch. No time wasters.
I think I've found my sexual identity: a trashy femme called Sylvie. All thanks to cheap black wigs from the $2.00 shop and cheap black micro mini's from the $5 scragg shop, and cheap pink breasts from… err.., well the tit goddess, I guess. I've had them for about 25 years……. they don't cost very much at all. a bit of pain now and then. decent Bras. TLC & touch wood.
As the trashy femme, I feel like one of the Bronte sisters, being urged into a mask by their Papa " If you put htis on, you can be whoever you like, say whatever you like, it's not you, it's the mask".
so mayhem went out and was totally trashy on wednesday. Dancing like the whore of babylon, feeling up girls on the dance floor, following butches into toilet cubicles. getting other butches to follow me home. My mother would not be impressed with this at all.
Isn't lesbianism meant to be some sad, reclusive reflective decent thing, done between decent malephobic deeply in love sensitive beings who have no other choice than to seek refuge in a feminine caress?
Aren't lesbians lesbians only in couples and just sad spinsters while waiting for the perfect girl?
Can't we be cured by the perfect senstive non threatening man?
Aren't those piggies in the sky so damn pretty?
Last week, feeling mangofied, lusty, happy, energetic, I SMS'd my favourite femme icon of the month and posted a link to her blog. (see regal bits).
Like zoo (Milky and Ouchy) I too admire her eloquent posting on romance - and wish my browser wasn't so spastic that I can't stick up a link rightaway.......
All this midnight oil burning while the consort slept. He'd retreated into some world of pain/exhaustion/goodexcusefornotfuckingmeapprentlybut tryexplainingthattomycuntcozIain'tseenherearshaveyou?
feeling sexually deprived I naturally thought of the infinite sweetness of breastmik washed down by black bitter beer. Of the smoky succulent residue of ladylips lingering through more beers. Desire burned into me, and lay smouldering all week.
I wanked. a lot.
couldn't write. Wanted to sob. did sob. missed Abel. Listened to too much music. Wanted more. My head started throbbing. I had to get out. I took my migraine to yoga, and gently breathed. Realised that I had to get out. and move.
I had to go out and shake my bits, move like I was fucking and being fucked, and maybe even be fucked - but even just going through the motions lets off some thing.
my vagina, strange phallophillic and deaf creature that she is - is a marvelous dance instructor. (even more, I dare say, than the consort - though no-one's paid $80 an hour for her lessons).
she of course, leads. she leads me, she moves and moves me where and when and how she wants to go. Ever other limb, every other muscle follows her.
this explains the beatific smile on my face when I dance. It's like fucking nothing.
and I delightedly got led home by some incredible crinkle eyed butch, wiht a husky voice and eyes like the ocean, and hands like GOD (if a decent once exists) and Jesus - there's a whole world of women I need to sleep with because I think i've been missing out up to this point.
and I realised what I like in a man was being taken in the way that I want a woman to take me. hard, strong. No doubts. that self assurance.......
dykes don't ever ask if you've come or not.
when I told the consort he sobbed a lot but said it wasn't about me, and I'm still stupidly hoping for some sex from him, and meanwhile the saphhic sex god has been texting me every hour, and my twat throbs and I need to wank, and it's REALLY HARD to write.
the downside of the saphic sex god is that she is a chain smoker. and she doesn't drink coffee. She rang me one morning before I'd had mine. she didn't try again. I don't form words before coffee. (All the more Kudos to the consort for being the same way). I'm also scared she wants another girlfriend, she's talking about not moving interstate after all and has already tkaen her sex toys out of storage (ohhh lucky me!). i'm scared to tell her I've been bonking a man.
I wandered donwstairs and sought the advice of TEDG - whose a bit of a postgender sex god after her talk on thursday.
I asked her if I should maybe solve my problems by telling these inadequate, confusing and demanding people that I've FALLEN IN LOVE WITH ABEL AND WE'RE BACK TOGETHER.
those nice bonk/play buddies wouldn't have to be told - coz they don't make any demands. Just proffer bits of flesh, soothing caresses and naughtiness in between meals, coffees, conversations, mangoes..... which is all I want to do with anyone right now.
No fucking demands, no fucking expectations, no fucking dramas, no fucking posession.
Just lots of angst free, smoke free, game free fucking.
TEDG tried to persuade me that I shouldn't make up stories about Abel coz they might come true and that I probably do have the skills to actually ask for my needs to be met, directly from the intimates concerned.
but times like these I wish life could be like one of those ads for working dogs in the "the Land" newspaper.
Bailing, binding half-bull bitch. No time wasters.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Halloween Horror volume 1
Question: how do you tell if someone is a psycho stalker freak?
at what point do you make the call?
what do you do?
who do you blame?
What seemed like a fairly innocent two night stand - somehow over the halloween seemd to turn a bit odd. Lucky we're no longer in the 1980's - coz no doubt we would have gone to the Reclaim the Night march together or something and it would all be horribly ickily ironic.......
Friday 27.10.06
R u serious. @23.25
Maybe its time 2 play. @23.39
I have something on. @23.44
Cool. @23.51
at what point do you make the call?
what do you do?
who do you blame?
What seemed like a fairly innocent two night stand - somehow over the halloween seemd to turn a bit odd. Lucky we're no longer in the 1980's - coz no doubt we would have gone to the Reclaim the Night march together or something and it would all be horribly ickily ironic.......
Friday 27.10.06
R u serious. @23.25
Maybe its time 2 play. @23.39
I have something on. @23.44
Cool. @23.51
Sunday, October 22, 2006
First Mango of the Summer
My friend Jarnot (now snowbound in Sweden)
insisted that at the start of the summer you had to indulge in THE GREAT MANGO RITUAL.
This involves sitting near a tempting body of transparent sparkling water - wearing a sarong or some diaphanous raiment, and eating a mango - a whole one - with your bare hands.
Juice must drippel down forearms.
Pulp must end up on face and other bits of exposed flesh (especially thighs - tempting company to lick them clean).
You must scrape the pip with your teeth and use up a whole box of dental floss extracting the fibres from your interstices.
Having sucked the marrow, and being covered with the scent and pulp of delicious fruit - you then shed the diaphanous raiment and dive - or plunge (ideally naked) into the tempting body of transparent sparkling water .
Rinse the mango, rinse winter, rinse cares,. Float. Enjoy saline supported pneumatic mammaries.... be glad that summer is here.
Last sunday I did just that. Well almost.
I grabbed an overpriced mango from the consort's kitchen and strode purposefully down to Fairlight pool. Well - even though it's just been renovated with a new kiddy proof fence (yep - round a rockpool - what a bloody joke) and covered with breeders and spawn - I sat, in my raiment (Well a hat, and a frock) and dove into the mango with my bare hands and spread the juice inside and out.
coz it was mid october and peak melanoma paranoia season - I maintained my raiment of lycra rash shirt and bikini bottoms - and plunged in anyway.
Saw the ferry cross past south head, and sighed. Watched the sunset as another mango in the sky and sighed again.
I dragged another mango to uni to split with my supervisor on some hot humid lunchtime encounter. OK the main quad ain't quite a harbourside pool - but the mango was cool.
sinney can be great at times.
this week - the mango has gotten inside me. Maybe it was the splurging on seven golden orbs at PAddies that did it (average price: $1.20 per unit - yay!!). Better than bananas. (but god I miss bananas).
So today - I feel gravid with life, like I'm bursting at the sams with joy and delight.
I feel myself frighteningly fertile. Horny as hell, willing to be split in two from the inside. To suckle, to sing, to screw, to spew forth sproglets.
fuck fertility is frightening.
I got used to the clucking and sniffing around babies, the cooing bovinely at pregnant or nascently babified women. But this is weird. I'm stronger than I've ever been phsyically. Fit, energetic, calm..... Full of life, growing emerging. Life pulses within me and wants to extend forth into mini me's...... Maybe this explains the poledancing/hose beast tendencies. Bloody ovaries!
fucking hell.
I cross my legs, scowl and think pious thoughts about the tome.
insisted that at the start of the summer you had to indulge in THE GREAT MANGO RITUAL.
This involves sitting near a tempting body of transparent sparkling water - wearing a sarong or some diaphanous raiment, and eating a mango - a whole one - with your bare hands.
Juice must drippel down forearms.
Pulp must end up on face and other bits of exposed flesh (especially thighs - tempting company to lick them clean).
You must scrape the pip with your teeth and use up a whole box of dental floss extracting the fibres from your interstices.
Having sucked the marrow, and being covered with the scent and pulp of delicious fruit - you then shed the diaphanous raiment and dive - or plunge (ideally naked) into the tempting body of transparent sparkling water .
Rinse the mango, rinse winter, rinse cares,. Float. Enjoy saline supported pneumatic mammaries.... be glad that summer is here.
Last sunday I did just that. Well almost.
I grabbed an overpriced mango from the consort's kitchen and strode purposefully down to Fairlight pool. Well - even though it's just been renovated with a new kiddy proof fence (yep - round a rockpool - what a bloody joke) and covered with breeders and spawn - I sat, in my raiment (Well a hat, and a frock) and dove into the mango with my bare hands and spread the juice inside and out.
coz it was mid october and peak melanoma paranoia season - I maintained my raiment of lycra rash shirt and bikini bottoms - and plunged in anyway.
Saw the ferry cross past south head, and sighed. Watched the sunset as another mango in the sky and sighed again.
I dragged another mango to uni to split with my supervisor on some hot humid lunchtime encounter. OK the main quad ain't quite a harbourside pool - but the mango was cool.
sinney can be great at times.
this week - the mango has gotten inside me. Maybe it was the splurging on seven golden orbs at PAddies that did it (average price: $1.20 per unit - yay!!). Better than bananas. (but god I miss bananas).
So today - I feel gravid with life, like I'm bursting at the sams with joy and delight.
I feel myself frighteningly fertile. Horny as hell, willing to be split in two from the inside. To suckle, to sing, to screw, to spew forth sproglets.
fuck fertility is frightening.
I got used to the clucking and sniffing around babies, the cooing bovinely at pregnant or nascently babified women. But this is weird. I'm stronger than I've ever been phsyically. Fit, energetic, calm..... Full of life, growing emerging. Life pulses within me and wants to extend forth into mini me's...... Maybe this explains the poledancing/hose beast tendencies. Bloody ovaries!
fucking hell.
I cross my legs, scowl and think pious thoughts about the tome.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Strangeways Here We Come.
It’s 2.30am and I could be calling my friend in texas. I’ve got a phone card. I’m writng this – not even live online but pre-typing in word. My dialup account has expired, so I’m stuck typing into the closed dark circuits of my e-mac. This may encourage me to use spellcheck before posting.
Each day I discover a new limitation of a large white box. I bought 3 depressing moochy CD’s yesterday but they won’t play on my poota. I’m not sure if I want to here the neighbours hearing me play THE SMITHS on the stereo downstairs– so…. Yeah, err, I’m not sure what to do.
Right now I’m listening to the greatest breakup CD in the history of the universe. It’s from Abel – and full of our froggy faves: “Je suis Conne!” by Bridgette fontaine (I’m not sure if I can translate all the nuances of this crazy tune – ‘conne’ is dumbcunt – and more a part of the common parlance of those feministically challenged frogs than C**T is for anglophones).
She also put on Anais’s crazy acapella parodies of every pop genre imaginable, and then a CD of another acapella onomatopoeia queen: Camille. That’s what I’m listening to 50 times a day. Partly coz it’s easier to split my brain between 2 languages, and coz of lyrics like these:
je t’aime toujours
je t’aime toujours
je t’aime toujours
ton amour, je sais
je t’aime toujours
les saisons passé
(if you need translation: I love you always, your love I know, I love you always, the seasons pass)
It then goes into a bit of a duet thing which I can’t discern and then there’s the weird interpretive libretto segue as my audio and translation skills both segue into random association…
Mais qui est cette homme avec des yeux? (but who is this man with the eyes)
(or is it ‘Mais qui est cette ombre desous?’) (But who is this shadow beneath)
Mais qui est cette homme, qui tombe amoureuse? (but who is this man who falls in love)
Yeah, right. I’m, full of shit and I digress. The song is called Pale September. It’s now October. My heart is so heavy, sodden, grey. My eyes drag down with tears and my chest drags.
I feel slow, remote, pathetic, exhausted, incapable of anything, removed, apathetic.
I’ve gone back into breakup mode and I don’t know who it’s for or what for or why. Abel has moved out (at last) and the consort appears to be drifting away – or I’m pushing him away, or something. It is a relief.
I feel like a sad pale marshmallow sitting inside some large thick walls. The walls are my own making and I’m not sad to have put them up – but turning away from the world, means facing myself, and at the moment it’s painful.
My heart, aches. It feels like period pain. Oh, you know, just an ache, sitting quietly and occasionally catching my breathe, strangling me with its intensity. But it’s not horrible or horrifying, just averagely awful. And awfully familiar.
There is no rational or decent reason why I should feel this way. My life is fucking fabulous haven’t you heard? I’ve just returned from a wonderful class reunion, having spent the weekend surrounded by people who love me, and who I love. Before that I had a delightful night out with some lovely ladies and I’ve been having a 3 month rebound affair with a caring ubermench. I’ve got an amazing work teaching really interesting courses, I’ve got stimulating and supportive colleagues, Sydney uni feels like home and I’ve got an amazing flatmate (TEDG) moving in on the weekend.
Good girls are always grateful
But I’m a fucked up bitch, neurotic, greedy, needy, demanding, malcontent.
And a week alone in a 3 bedroom house is a damn fine reason to wallow. So I dragged my heavy heart up the street and bought a copy of my favourite first breakup album (it was an ex’s flatmates so I never actually owned it). Doncha love morrissey?
Stop me, stop me
Stop me if you think that you’ve heard this one before
Nothing’s changed
I still love you
I still love you
But only sightly
Less than I used to.
I got inspired to admit to my smith's predilictions by the eloquent postings on "skirts are bleeding". (click on the link called 'ouchy bits'). she updates far more regulalry than moi - and with stunning eloquence:
This bit below pretty much sums up my state of mind at present:
"Some days I (almost) wish that I could just be that straight girl, you know, the pretty one who isn't going to call anyone's identity into question, who isn't going to run about being a lactating faggot and packing under her tutu, who will stand by her man as the perfect reassurance and confirmation of his masculinity. Who doesn't disrupt the equilibrium or make anyone think twice. I feel like such a mutant and hybrid monster, always wanting odd combinations of menu items instead of taking the set banquet:
I want the boy, but don't want to be the girl
I don't want to be a girl, but don't want to be a boy
I want the house together, but don't want to 'shack up'
I want my PhD, but don't want to be an academic
I want to have a baby, but don't want the nuclear family
I want a committed relationship, but don't want to be 'married'
And on it goes."
Well, hell I wihs I could be a confused mutant lactating faggot instead of a confused mutant bleeding snotty scragg - but no-one's perfect.
I've had hideous head pain, back pain, stomach pain this week. That nice reassuring punch in the nose type migraine that makes every other stress kind of pale into comparison, well I can handle that, but the screeching agonies of small sounds distance perfume wafting - makes it a bit hard for me to be around humanity.(teahcing undergrads was a barrel of laughs this week). I've also been blessed with the scary skewer in the back twisting hardness, catching my breathe as I attmept to walk. and have clamly booked in a shiatsu for this afternoon. Avoiding codeine. trying to strethc, relax, calm down, cope.
but the gut wrenching shaking abdominal agony.... yeah well, that kind of sucks a bit. I was gasping shaking grasping for the slippery elm yesterday, grabbing and gobbling bits of bread, barely able to speak. TEDG thought I was just needing a coffee, and the houseguest barely seemed to notice as he gave a detailed whinge about his insomnia. Insomnia? Easily solved - turn on the light, grab a book, meditate, draw, wank, write. It's inconvenient, but OK - compared to shuddering pain - the sort of thing which sleep should be a respite from..... eugh.
On things prickly, Able has a got a copy of Salo - which we are going to watch before she heads off to frogville and her girlfriend (who'm I'm no longer allowed to call SLUT) for the next 3 months.
nausteating sado maso seems like a good adieu to this hellbitch separation year.
and copraphagia.
I feel like I've been swallowing shit all year.
Last night we went to a concert of our neighbours, at a cafe up the road. The cafe, with various neighbours and familiar tag alongs, singing, strumming, saxing and blowing horns - with various other neighbours tucking in and cheering - felt like HOME. Abel and I sat across from each other "drawing in stereo" as one neighbour put it. stoic scribbles to the kathellissism heartbreak songs bouncing aroud the room....
Last night reminded me of the scene in "the singing detective" of the old singalongs during ww2. Everyone joins in - everyone knows each other - the ocmmunity is an extended network of friendss, aquaintances, exes. HEartbreak washes around the room - songs written for more familiar faces and sung for others.
no wonder I've got such a provincial view of culture (it's the stuff that ordinary people make and share with other ordinary people). the last time I heard the Kathellisism experience was at Succulent - where i'd dragged mum and the consort to hear my brother's ex 'sit in' and play double bass. In 2 months time I'll be able to hear her sit in on lots of other gigs - in New york - only they'll all be famous people (Kath introduced her as woody allens bass player coz that's her 'regular' gig).
But silly me, I blithely assume -that it'll be like here - muso's making music for each other, for their friends - as something to share and play with and make life meaningful - not some abstracted out-there brilliance that only the cognoscetti get to connossiership of.
I guess I'm in for a shock. Sydney is such a small town -and I live in such a safe, insular little part of it. I only go to places - concerts, clubs, galleries etc. where I know the organisers or friends do and I reckon I'll know most of the crowd - not because I'm 'cool' - but because I can't deal with the out of placeness of rocking up to some abstracted uberzone of 'culture' (TM) where the only reference point is a review in 3D world or realtime.
anyway - I was nestled on the couch trying to disguise my pervings on the gaggle of burches opposite, under earnest scribbles as Kath stood on the table and yowled sonorously....
"You don't a lover,
you just need
someone
to love you....."
and I saw the consort standing edgily at the bar, and wondered if she was singing the lyrics for him.
*sigh*
I'm not even sure if I can be bothered finding the words for my dissapointment, anymore.
*sigh*
I've written Kath's lyrics before in this blog, so I don't need to write them again. I only had a few tears in my eyes when she sang them again. I even allowed myself a few longing glimpses at Abel's torso, and I quickly scribbled a cartoon of her in a corner of a drawing.....
The wounds have covered over - They aren't as red raw and gaping like 6 or 3 months ago, and I can even look at my research notes from 6 and 9 months ago -where each page of earnest note taking is interspersed with pages of scrawled tear sodden agony.
No wonder this chapter has taken all fucking year.
And as much as I can sigh with relief and feel thankful that I'm not so hurt, that time has healed that Kath's great advice:
"Just move on, keep walking. walk away and don't look back, just keep your life moving forward because it's like some big hole that's going to swallow you up if you let it. but if you keep moving, in six months time, you'll look back and you'll be six months away from this place where you are now, and it'll be better..."
is so true it feels like a miracle.......
fuck this hurts. I still love Abel. My 'ideal relationship' is still inextricably linked to her, to us and our life together. Still. Noone else comes close.
Each day I discover a new limitation of a large white box. I bought 3 depressing moochy CD’s yesterday but they won’t play on my poota. I’m not sure if I want to here the neighbours hearing me play THE SMITHS on the stereo downstairs– so…. Yeah, err, I’m not sure what to do.
Right now I’m listening to the greatest breakup CD in the history of the universe. It’s from Abel – and full of our froggy faves: “Je suis Conne!” by Bridgette fontaine (I’m not sure if I can translate all the nuances of this crazy tune – ‘conne’ is dumbcunt – and more a part of the common parlance of those feministically challenged frogs than C**T is for anglophones).
She also put on Anais’s crazy acapella parodies of every pop genre imaginable, and then a CD of another acapella onomatopoeia queen: Camille. That’s what I’m listening to 50 times a day. Partly coz it’s easier to split my brain between 2 languages, and coz of lyrics like these:
je t’aime toujours
je t’aime toujours
je t’aime toujours
ton amour, je sais
je t’aime toujours
les saisons passé
(if you need translation: I love you always, your love I know, I love you always, the seasons pass)
It then goes into a bit of a duet thing which I can’t discern and then there’s the weird interpretive libretto segue as my audio and translation skills both segue into random association…
Mais qui est cette homme avec des yeux? (but who is this man with the eyes)
(or is it ‘Mais qui est cette ombre desous?’) (But who is this shadow beneath)
Mais qui est cette homme, qui tombe amoureuse? (but who is this man who falls in love)
Yeah, right. I’m, full of shit and I digress. The song is called Pale September. It’s now October. My heart is so heavy, sodden, grey. My eyes drag down with tears and my chest drags.
I feel slow, remote, pathetic, exhausted, incapable of anything, removed, apathetic.
I’ve gone back into breakup mode and I don’t know who it’s for or what for or why. Abel has moved out (at last) and the consort appears to be drifting away – or I’m pushing him away, or something. It is a relief.
I feel like a sad pale marshmallow sitting inside some large thick walls. The walls are my own making and I’m not sad to have put them up – but turning away from the world, means facing myself, and at the moment it’s painful.
My heart, aches. It feels like period pain. Oh, you know, just an ache, sitting quietly and occasionally catching my breathe, strangling me with its intensity. But it’s not horrible or horrifying, just averagely awful. And awfully familiar.
There is no rational or decent reason why I should feel this way. My life is fucking fabulous haven’t you heard? I’ve just returned from a wonderful class reunion, having spent the weekend surrounded by people who love me, and who I love. Before that I had a delightful night out with some lovely ladies and I’ve been having a 3 month rebound affair with a caring ubermench. I’ve got an amazing work teaching really interesting courses, I’ve got stimulating and supportive colleagues, Sydney uni feels like home and I’ve got an amazing flatmate (TEDG) moving in on the weekend.
Good girls are always grateful
But I’m a fucked up bitch, neurotic, greedy, needy, demanding, malcontent.
And a week alone in a 3 bedroom house is a damn fine reason to wallow. So I dragged my heavy heart up the street and bought a copy of my favourite first breakup album (it was an ex’s flatmates so I never actually owned it). Doncha love morrissey?
Stop me, stop me
Stop me if you think that you’ve heard this one before
Nothing’s changed
I still love you
I still love you
But only sightly
Less than I used to.
I got inspired to admit to my smith's predilictions by the eloquent postings on "skirts are bleeding". (click on the link called 'ouchy bits'). she updates far more regulalry than moi - and with stunning eloquence:
This bit below pretty much sums up my state of mind at present:
"Some days I (almost) wish that I could just be that straight girl, you know, the pretty one who isn't going to call anyone's identity into question, who isn't going to run about being a lactating faggot and packing under her tutu, who will stand by her man as the perfect reassurance and confirmation of his masculinity. Who doesn't disrupt the equilibrium or make anyone think twice. I feel like such a mutant and hybrid monster, always wanting odd combinations of menu items instead of taking the set banquet:
I want the boy, but don't want to be the girl
I don't want to be a girl, but don't want to be a boy
I want the house together, but don't want to 'shack up'
I want my PhD, but don't want to be an academic
I want to have a baby, but don't want the nuclear family
I want a committed relationship, but don't want to be 'married'
And on it goes."
Well, hell I wihs I could be a confused mutant lactating faggot instead of a confused mutant bleeding snotty scragg - but no-one's perfect.
I've had hideous head pain, back pain, stomach pain this week. That nice reassuring punch in the nose type migraine that makes every other stress kind of pale into comparison, well I can handle that, but the screeching agonies of small sounds distance perfume wafting - makes it a bit hard for me to be around humanity.(teahcing undergrads was a barrel of laughs this week). I've also been blessed with the scary skewer in the back twisting hardness, catching my breathe as I attmept to walk. and have clamly booked in a shiatsu for this afternoon. Avoiding codeine. trying to strethc, relax, calm down, cope.
but the gut wrenching shaking abdominal agony.... yeah well, that kind of sucks a bit. I was gasping shaking grasping for the slippery elm yesterday, grabbing and gobbling bits of bread, barely able to speak. TEDG thought I was just needing a coffee, and the houseguest barely seemed to notice as he gave a detailed whinge about his insomnia. Insomnia? Easily solved - turn on the light, grab a book, meditate, draw, wank, write. It's inconvenient, but OK - compared to shuddering pain - the sort of thing which sleep should be a respite from..... eugh.
On things prickly, Able has a got a copy of Salo - which we are going to watch before she heads off to frogville and her girlfriend (who'm I'm no longer allowed to call SLUT) for the next 3 months.
nausteating sado maso seems like a good adieu to this hellbitch separation year.
and copraphagia.
I feel like I've been swallowing shit all year.
Last night we went to a concert of our neighbours, at a cafe up the road. The cafe, with various neighbours and familiar tag alongs, singing, strumming, saxing and blowing horns - with various other neighbours tucking in and cheering - felt like HOME. Abel and I sat across from each other "drawing in stereo" as one neighbour put it. stoic scribbles to the kathellissism heartbreak songs bouncing aroud the room....
Last night reminded me of the scene in "the singing detective" of the old singalongs during ww2. Everyone joins in - everyone knows each other - the ocmmunity is an extended network of friendss, aquaintances, exes. HEartbreak washes around the room - songs written for more familiar faces and sung for others.
no wonder I've got such a provincial view of culture (it's the stuff that ordinary people make and share with other ordinary people). the last time I heard the Kathellisism experience was at Succulent - where i'd dragged mum and the consort to hear my brother's ex 'sit in' and play double bass. In 2 months time I'll be able to hear her sit in on lots of other gigs - in New york - only they'll all be famous people (Kath introduced her as woody allens bass player coz that's her 'regular' gig).
But silly me, I blithely assume -that it'll be like here - muso's making music for each other, for their friends - as something to share and play with and make life meaningful - not some abstracted out-there brilliance that only the cognoscetti get to connossiership of.
I guess I'm in for a shock. Sydney is such a small town -and I live in such a safe, insular little part of it. I only go to places - concerts, clubs, galleries etc. where I know the organisers or friends do and I reckon I'll know most of the crowd - not because I'm 'cool' - but because I can't deal with the out of placeness of rocking up to some abstracted uberzone of 'culture' (TM) where the only reference point is a review in 3D world or realtime.
anyway - I was nestled on the couch trying to disguise my pervings on the gaggle of burches opposite, under earnest scribbles as Kath stood on the table and yowled sonorously....
"You don't a lover,
you just need
someone
to love you....."
and I saw the consort standing edgily at the bar, and wondered if she was singing the lyrics for him.
*sigh*
I'm not even sure if I can be bothered finding the words for my dissapointment, anymore.
*sigh*
I've written Kath's lyrics before in this blog, so I don't need to write them again. I only had a few tears in my eyes when she sang them again. I even allowed myself a few longing glimpses at Abel's torso, and I quickly scribbled a cartoon of her in a corner of a drawing.....
The wounds have covered over - They aren't as red raw and gaping like 6 or 3 months ago, and I can even look at my research notes from 6 and 9 months ago -where each page of earnest note taking is interspersed with pages of scrawled tear sodden agony.
No wonder this chapter has taken all fucking year.
And as much as I can sigh with relief and feel thankful that I'm not so hurt, that time has healed that Kath's great advice:
"Just move on, keep walking. walk away and don't look back, just keep your life moving forward because it's like some big hole that's going to swallow you up if you let it. but if you keep moving, in six months time, you'll look back and you'll be six months away from this place where you are now, and it'll be better..."
is so true it feels like a miracle.......
fuck this hurts. I still love Abel. My 'ideal relationship' is still inextricably linked to her, to us and our life together. Still. Noone else comes close.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Getting out of my Navel
God my problems are so damn trivial.
I've been reading Salam Pax and listening to the Smiths to get some perspective on my PMT (Premenstrual Thesis) gloom.
but then I got this in my email inbox
Here's the text version if the images are indecipherable
On the *14th of October, 10.30 am, at Sydney Town Hall,* Friends of
Lebanon-Australia along with other community groups has organised a
*public memorial for the Lebanese who have died in the recent war*.
In the weeks following the war it became clear that many Lebanese
Australian families have lost friends and relatives and were privately
in mourning. We felt it important that this mourning be public as well.
We were also keen that such a public event does not become a 'Lebanese
community event' but an Australian event where as many non-Lebanese as
possible can come to join the Lebanese in their mourning. This is why
the event is held at Sydney Town Hall.
Muslim Lebanese Australians have been on the receiving end of a lot of
negative stereotyping, prejudiced ill-feelings and discriminatory
behaviour from various sections of our society for far too long. It is
time for those of us who disagree with this this state of affairs to
not only be critical with those who peddle racism and prejudice, but to
take the more positive step of embracing the victims and showing them that
we regard them fully and unconditionally as part of our Australian
community. Joining them in their mourning is an important way of doing
so. Integration is not only about migrants adopting our values. It is
also about us learning to share their sorrow and pain.
We wish this event to be focused on a politics of inclusion within an
Australian context rather than on the Middle Eastern politics that
clearly underlies it. This is a unique opportunity, for those of us who
wish to do so, to assert an inclusive politics of friendhip in the face
of the incessant politics of hatred and division that is becoming part
of our everyday lives.
We urge you to join us in solidarity and to do your best to circulate
this invitation.
Ghassan Hage
For Friends of Lebanon, Australia.
Bad Pashin
this is getting banal
Actually I'm so tired and grumpy I can barely write an SMS, let alone a blog entry, let alone a thesis.
SIGH
so i'm posting the latest pics with my new dressup buddy. i'm the one without the teeth. this was taken by the fairy fraggle a few wee hours before we dragged each other off with an enigmatic catwoman for fun femmy frolics at dawn. i'll leave the compromising pics to readers imagination.
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