Archive for December, 2004

Friday, December 31st, 2004

Thank you to those of you who commented on or emailed me about the previous post. Your support has been helpful and truly lovely.

This is the last I’m saying on this matter for a while; maybe sometime I’ll post about Becky, and about all that’s happened, but I don’t really feel up to it at the moment and doubt I will anytime soon.

Thanks again for your words. Happy new year.

Thursday, December 16th, 2004

My friend Becky has committed suicide.

I don’t know what else to say. None of this seems real.

Everybody Loves a Carnivale

Wednesday, December 1st, 2004

If you live in Melbourne and you’re a committed stalker, or if you just like hearing people talk dirty, you might want to think about coming along tomorrow night to Carnivale of the Sexuale, Lustre’s first night of erotic spoken word and general debauchery (well, we can only hope).

I’ve been invited to do a reading, which I’m looking forward to, albeit slightly nervously. I haven’t performed any of my work in a really long time, and last time I did an erotic reading, I got a boyfriend out of it. Heading on to three years later and I still haven’t been able to get rid of the bugger.

I have no idea who else will be reading, but it’s being run by the delightful Kathryn, so how can you resist?

Anyway, it’s on tomorrow night (that’s Thursday), from 7pm at Bar Open, 317 Brunswick St Fitzroy. If you attend (no way am I writing “come,” I know the sort of infantile minds that read this), do introduce yourself. If you don’t know who I am when you arrive, you most likely soon will. :)

(And yes, I am aware I should have posted about this several days ago, but things are all over the place for me at the moment, which I’ll explain further in a later entry. The short answer is that I’ve been job hunting and house hunting simultaneously, neither of which are activities I enjoy. Life is fun.)

“A mini-break is about more than just shagging”

Wednesday, December 1st, 2004

Sydney was wonderful.

Among other things, I will not soon forget being the recipient of a birthday toast which included nice champagne and took place in a big black shiny Limo, sliding through the inner-city streets as people pointed and waved and tried to see through the heavily tinted glass. It made me feel like a rap star, despite my notable and unfortunate lack of bling and hoes.

I also managed to get well and truly sunburned on the luxury harbour cruise, which was stupid of me, and means my normally copy-paper white skin now looks like pink tissue paper. Plus I met a cute dog. And lots of Stu’s co-workers, but they don’t stick in my mind as much as the cute dog. Which is their own fault, really; they didn’t keep sitting in my lap and trying to lick my face.

I didn’t get to explore the city as much as I would have liked, but there’s always next time, which will be at a time when it’s not so beastly hot, and when I have less corporate girlfriend obligations.

Stu’s had to stay in Sydney for a contract. Three days apart and we’re already acting like teenage internet boyfriend and girlfriend. The next step is sending each other soppy e-cards and reverting to language such as “kewliez” and “LOL”. If either of us were at all given to chatting, I could think up “cool” new acronyms such as TMDOTFCOTOMAPAWMTBI (throw me down on the floor, climb on top of me and perform acts which may techically be illegal). I am trying to ignore the fact that his contact currently runs for an indeterminate period of time, which in his industry means anything from a month to several years. Blargh.