April 1st, 2003

Carravaggio

Grey Day


April Fool's Day, and Adam and Will just pulled a jolly jape on the country by disappearing for an hour, pretending they'd been replaced on their show. Very amusing. My own day has some of that, for first my button popped off my blouse as I was getting dressed. Actually, the blouse was so cheap it just fell off. Sigh. So, being late having searched for said errant button Aged Parent was up to utter those words 'at least it's not raining' which always sends me off to work with my own personal rain cloud so I end up at work soaked to the skin on what has turned out to be a sunny morning (yesterday I gloated over the dawn and by lunchtime is was pissing down. When I raced home the sky was a mix of greys, purples and dark blues I'd never seen before. Most alarming but it came to nowt).

It was another 13 hour day yesterday, and don't I hate 'em, so by the time I got home the streetlights were already on, the birds abed and so I flopped down on the couch to watch a bit of Knight's Tale with a cup of tea (love the Chaucer in-jokes). I simply can't do housework after the sun has set because I'm completely blind after 13 hours in front of a PC without break and the tiny 25 watt bulbs Aged Parent insists on are not enough for me to work safely by - in the few light fittings that still work, one per room.

  • The Ploughman's Tale
  • I was enjoying myself until Bro arrived home all grumpy, so it was time to vacate. Surely he's still not cheesed off over the pizza incident last night, and since when was mozzarella cheese outlawed as a pizza topping anyway? Clearly I'm not getting my memos. Or I've just been stuck out in the boonies too long (I'm living in the 70s...)

    I've decided I'm definitely a dog person. Aside from being raised by the family dog, ensuring my dog manners are impeccable but my human manners need lots of work, and I get all mushy over happy wolfie pics. I am so going to die alone, eaten by my alsatians (qv Bridget Jones).

    I was also disappointed to discover the March issue of Playboy was not to be had, not even for money. I'm reliably assured that it contains a Colin interview that is extremely good value. Yep, always buying the guy mafazines, they have the best guy photos. The women magazines are all full of chicks, and I'm not that much of a lezzo. I'm not a dyke at all, just fugly. Peole can't seem to grasp the difference between rejecting men, and rejected by men. The latter, me, get no action or comfort at all. Even in my dreams I try to tell people I'm lonely but no one has time to listen and when I try to call people all I get are answering machine messages. It's so sad. Even in my dreams no one will talk to me.

  • Colin Farrell, Playboy, March 2003 US
  • Somebody asked why my maths text book smelt. All my books smelt. I went to a government school in a poor council suburb and all our books were 20-40 years old and much like Principal Skinner, we would have liked some history books that told how the Korean war turned out. Somebody on the Simpsons must have gone to my school because our projector, too, was ancient. I know, because I was the school projectionist (it was the cloest thing to an a/v class we had, me loading the films). My maternal grandfather was a picture show man, aside from being a plumber and handyman. He was the local agent for, oh, I forget which Hollywood studio, and he used to screen their films up against walls in backwater country towns. As a small child he'd sit me on his knee and we'd go through a pack of fantales together, caramel lollies, with each wrapper a short imdb style bio of a famous actor, and we'd talk film and I guess that's where my love of film comes from (though my Scottish Aunt shares my love of British mysteries and historical frock ups exactly). Somehow everything that was cool about my grandpa skipped all his other decendants because I'm the only other socialist ratbag, too. He died when I was four or five, so he's always this cooler Santa Claus type memory, but he was pretty cool, I reckon. He taught me how to hammer, nail, sand, saw and use a spirit level and paint and glue, all before I started school. Useful life skills. I can't believe how boring the rest of his clan are. Not that I have anything to do with them. All my family are either in the country, dead or overseas and I really felt it last week for the first time since I was a kid. Everyone I rang up had a family function on. I never have family functions. I've never been to any weddings, christenings, funerals, anniversaries, birthdays, graduations, etc. I have nothing, and I never have. It's probably why I'm so badly socialised. To hell with stolen orphans, no one ever apologises to me for robbing me of my family, my culture, my language. Hmph. I have no family, no friends, and I think I should probably go get something sweet for morning tea because I see where this woe is me strand is going.

    At least I'm feeling a little better, managing nearly seven hours sleep last night, and I finished off two pages of story. Mostly bridging work but the story was less complete than I thought, I had to get the boys from B to C and it took up the hour I have between getting to work and starting work. This story is coming slowly but better to take my time than rush through it, even though nobody cares. Certainly I had no feedback over it, which hurt, just a bit. I should be writing J&D but I'm just really not in the mood today, for whatever reason. At least my muse is plugged into taday because that side of my mouth is warm today, whereas yesteday it was as cold as ice and the other side was hot. Today my rational brain is offline (Karl has this happen to him, too, the cold down one side according to mood thing). Oh well, who cares. Life sucks, this world sucks and evil men flourish.


  • In the Name of God
  • HORRIFIC HUMAN SUFFERING IN THIS INSANE WAR

  • Speaking a different language - but we've got the Phrasealator

  • Oliver Stone criticises Iraq war

  • US network sacks top journalist

  • Bring our troops home

  • Invisibility Cloak an Illusion

  • E-mail bullying on the rise

  • MacColls' fury at speedboat fine

  • How does The Office compare to your workplace?

      • When I get home it's late at night,

        I'm black and bloody from my life,

        I haven't time to clean my hands,

        Cuts will only sting me through my dreams.

        </p>
        It's well past midnight as I lie

        In a semi-conscious state.

        I dream of people fighting me

        Without any reason I can see.
        </p></p>
        In the morning I awake,

        My arms my legs my body aches,

        The sky outside is wet and grey

        So begins another weary day.

        So begins another weary day.
        </p></p>
        After eating I go out,

        People passing by me shout.

        I can't stand this agony

        Why don't they talk to me?
        </p></p>
        In the park I have to rest

        I lie down and I do my best,

        The rain is falling on my face

        I wish I could sink without a trace.
        </p></p>
        In the morning I awake,

        My arms my legs my body aches,

        The sky outside is wet and grey,

        So begins another weary day.

        So begins another weary day.
        </p></p>
                - Madness, "Grey Day".</p>

     

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