Archive for the ‘General’ Category

My Boyfriend Went to Thailand and All I Got Was This Damn Prostitute

Wednesday, November 22nd, 2006

And the lesson to be learned is “be careful what you wish for”.

Just for the Record

Thursday, November 9th, 2006

Today has been a wonderful day.

Not for any particular reason, just one of those days made up of small, eclectic shards that come together so warmly and perfectly.

After dropping my car off for a service, I had breakfast with Stuart at his house, as he’s leaving for an overseas business trip tomorrow morning (the only blight to the day). I sat and read my current book – Rosalie Ham’s The Dressmaker – in the sun over coffee, before doing some Christmas shopping before going to work at the bookshop, where I wafted around compiling purchase orders and generally playing with books. I tell people I’m happy as long as I’m near books and they think I am being cute and whimsical and a wee bit twee, but it’s true. My career trajectory thus far has been about books and sex toys, and while I have moments where I despair about the lack of a “real job”, I can’t deny that it does all make me happy.

I had a moment of perfect bliss around four in the afternoon, after a wonderful conversation with a customer about feminist sci-fi, where I stood behind the counter listening to the new Regina Spektor CD and gazing around the shop. It was…peaceful. That deep-seated sense of peace where nothing is a concern; it’s a feeling I get less and less often recently.

After work I caught up with Stuart for dinner and goodbye kisses in Little Bourke St, before heading on to the Visible Ink launch, which was full of wonderful people and has yielded a wonderful book I’m excited about reading. It was wonderful to catch up with people, especially in light of my increasingly sporadic attendence at uni, and wonderful to meet some delightful new people.

Apart from a long, terrible moment where I thought the mechanic had lost my car keys, everything has gone well. Simple joys.  When the world and more locally my life often feel so full of ugliness, it’s good to remember they exist.  It’s my arse-end-of-the-year resolution to find more of them.

Worlds Collide; Gooey Awkwardness Results

Monday, October 16th, 2006


One of the things I have been doing besides updating this here blog has been toiling away at my new job. I am back in library-land, and enjoying every minute of it so far (except for the ones where people are nasty or smell funny, but such are the joys of interacting with the public). I have cool co-workers, the job itself is fun, my attempts at being toddler-friendly make the poor little bastards cry, and I get to talk about books all day to people who love books. What’s not to like?
Another thing I have been doing is plugging away at writing, and because things just seem to happen this way, my smutty rude stories are doing ever so much better in terms of seeing the light of print than my non-smutty stories. I don’t know if this is because I’m better at identifying suitable publishers for my erotic fiction (having had more years of practice at it than you can poke a euphemism at), whether it’s because I angst less about my erotic fiction than my other literary pursuits and am hence more likely to just bite the bullet and submit my work rather than sooking about it for months, or just because I’m better at writing about sex than I am at more ‘serious’ subjects (though how sex is not a serious subject I have never been able to quite ascertain, besides the fact that it’s fun and often hilarious). At any rate, the erotica side of things is going in leaps and bounds, or at least a respectable swagger.

Of course, one of the downsides of being a porn librarian (in many senses of the word – does anybody want some secondhand videos? They are only slightly used.) is that when people ask you what you write, you tend to mumble “errr…stuff”. I’m not ashamed of what I write and I never have been, but I’m aware that it makes some people uncomfortable, including my family and that one guy who once called me a whore because I wouldn’t sleep with him (someone needs a visit from the Logic Fairy). Also, I have noticed that people sometimes have trouble reconciling my beaming, innocent face and Pollyanna-with-a-hangover persona with that of a pornographer. It helps if you wear leather corsetry and impressive boots, but I find these articles impractical for day-to-day wear. On top of that, I generally avoid talking about my interests anyway, because generally people don’t give two shits, and rightly so (blogging, of course, is slightly different: I am as essentially egotistically driven as any other blogger, and if you don’t give two shits, you are of course welcome to take your browsing elsewhere, and I shan’t be offended. I simply wish to point out that I am not generally someone who bangs on about my unriveting personal life to co-workers. Speaking of which, I think I may have accidentally convinced a conservative Christian girl I work with that I am of her ilk, the hilarity and wrongness of which I am still puzzling and amused over.)

The world collision of the title happened last week. I was serving a woman at the counter, and not really paying attention to what she was borrowing beyond ensuring that the process went smoothly, as is my wont. I happened to glance down as I passed her books back to her, and noticed that on top of the stack (which I’d re-ordered as I scanned the books, meaning that she’d had it on the bottom of the pile, sneaky old possum) was one of Maxim Jakubowski’s Mammoth Book of Erotica anthologies – the very same series I’ve mentioned here previously as having been accepted for.

“Oh!” I exclaimed before I could stop myself. “I…” fortunately my brain cut in before the rest of the words on my tongue could launch themselves.

“…hear he’s very good. A very respected erotica editor,” I finished lamely. Oooh, smooth one, Aimee, you come here often?

“Well, it looks great!” the woman enthused. “I’m really excited about reading it!”

Then she blushed. And giggled. And looked slightly horrified at what she’d just said.

I smiled and said, “I might have to borrow it after you.”

And she gave me a smile that said “thank you for pretending you didn’t just hear me out myself as a dirty perve.” And I gave her a smile that said “Dirty perve? Honey, you have no idea.”

Consider My Arse Bitten

Monday, August 14th, 2006

Less than an hour after I made the previous post, I got a job offer. I am hoping this means that blogging about my woes and wants helps to materialise them. In which case, I WANT A PONY! No firm preference for equine or human, both are good.

Attributes Besides My Arts Degree Which Will Not Aid in Furthering My Career

Monday, August 14th, 2006

It’s that time of year again, where I get so stressed out about Uni (and the fact that I am STILL AT UNI, no matter how much I like my course, shouldn’t I be out in the “real world” by now, etc etc etc), and start looking for gainful employment. This tends to happen at the end of every semester when I have a wee crisis of faith, and anytime I start feeling poor (ie, all the time, and especially now), or realise that for the next fortnight I can pay my overdue bills or eat but not both. It’s hard to remember that one day this will all be over when you’re standing in the supermarket making what my friend Shannon calls the Toilet Paper vs. Tampons Decision. Apparently, I can look all I like, but gainful employment is going to keep hiding and chuckling to itself every time I storm past its hiding spot in a frustrated manner. No can do. So, in honour of my own frustration, and in recognition of the fact that a first-class Honours degree, relevant experience, a solid volunteer history and an internship will apparently get you nowhere (at least when you’re me – ooh, bitter), and in the interests of propping up my floundering self-esteem, I hereby present a list of the attributes that generally don’t make the CV cut:

  • I have worked hard to rise above my humble beginnings in life and to reject the path seemingly set out for me. As a young woman born in Moe in the early 1980s, avoiding this path has largely involved: not getting pregnant while still legally a child, not owning mocassins, leaving the house in something besides tracksuit pants, fending off the advances of identical guys named Robbo/Stevo/Greg Domasewicz, not getting involved in too many punchups or knife fights, and not throwing pig heads through anyone’s windows. I have also avoided the lure of intimate relations with family members. All this has been quite a struggle, as I’m sure you can imagine. Particularly if you’ve ever met any of my uncles. Phwoar.
  • I love language, and am always keen to expand upon my creative use of it. Referees to back up this claim: anyone who’s ever been in my car with me when someone cuts me off.
  • Can make my boobies applaud and do sundry other tricks. (Okay, so this skill would probably further certain career options, but only for careers for which my current BMI disqualifies me, so it’s not really helping me out at all.)
  • Most of my paid work experience has been in various forms of adult retail. You’d be surprised how often this doesn’t impress children’s book publishers.
  • Good at insulting people without them realising it.
  • Have learned to get along with just about anybody in a workplace environment, no matter how difficult or stupid they may be, through the use of creative visualisation (also known as “plotting their bloody demise”).
  • Firm believer in the philosophy that there’s a Futurama quote for every occasion.
  • Devout Pastafarian. Being touched by the Flying Spaghetti Monster’s noodly appendage changed my life.
  • Working on making what is actually social awkwardness appear to be charming eccentricity. This long-running and time-consuming project is still in its initial stages. I guess I’ll keep plugging away at it.

Maybe if I whistle casually and pretend to ignore it, employment will come sidling up to me in the form of some job application I’ve already forgotten about. In the meantime, polish yer boots, guvnor?