Not sure Dollface knows what a snowboard is.

S just sent me this website:
Texts

Dollface: I’m going to snowboard.
And probably hurt myself
(however Chris pointed out that I already have strong wrists from handstands,
so learning to snowboard should not be so painful for me).

How does that work?

J at my work talks to his fiance
like she's 8, just hurt herself
and is trying not to make her cry any further.

I applied for a new job again.

...and you will know me by the trail of texts.

...And you will know us by the trail of dead.

I was cursing not being in the country
when ToD were on here,
(that sounds so international of me doesn't it)
except now they've announced a second night!
Home from Japan to see Trail of Dead!
What could possibly be a better day?


Modest Mouse as well.
Yes.

I was also going to mention,
that once I have completed oil painting
number 3.
I'll probably have the internet connected
at home.
Which means, lots of fun things to look forward to.
Just need to get rid of anxiety about the point of things.

Snails pace.

Is there anything I'm meant to be doing?

Waiting for the phone to ring?

I don't know what your job is...

It's a quiet time for fees people.

Ok.

The description on my email signature says Assistant Fees Officer.

Quiet it is, then.

Unfortunately for you perhaps,

you started work with us just as

our workload dried up.

Soon we will all be fighting over scraps.

I suggest you align yourself with a powerful group. :-)

I suppose we just have to keep looking healthy and

hope we wont get picked for the chambers.

I've been busy.

Jacky Winter busy.

Sometimes I can look at illustrations and fall in love with the world again.

Here's some examples:

I'm not entirely sure why it doesn't always work out for me,

this blogger thing.

Praise for The Searchers, Smith Street, Fitzroy.

I knew going to The Searchers today
would give me what I was looking for.
It is my favourite bookshop.

Alain de Botton, The consolations of philosophy.
Chapter 5, Consolation for a Broken Heart.
"1788 Arthur Schopenhauer is born in Danzig.
In later years, he looks back on the event with regret."

Schopenhauer in 1813 visits Goethe,
Goethe writes this about him:
"If you wish to draw pleasure out of life,
you must attach value to the world."

Right, chapter 5 is what I'm doing tonight.

Perhaps this is what I meant about life having
worth to someone else.
It's worthless to yourself, but to others, your life
is something, meaningful and perhaps understandable.
Perhaps now I can continue living my life,
knowing that even as an audience member,
I'm important?

Now, I'll finish my research.

Somewhat comforted.

Feeling worthwhile on a day like today.

OK so I twittered.
Twice.
I need to feel worthwhile.
I am recording things that make me feel
that life has a point.

If not to me,
someone else.

It is not me being conceited.
These comments bounce off me,
in the office or in the playground.
Comments of this type,
need to come from specific people
to mean something.

********************************************
Today is a perfect day,
loud thundery thunder and rain.

My fecking god,
I've never heard it so loud.
Now the fire alarm has been set off.

It is also Friday,
which means
beer for lunch with A.
Where he gets a female perspective,
and I get a male perspective,
which still doesn't really make sense.
********************************************

B and I have a regular conversation starter.
- Are you excited about today?
Well I have a pen that lights up so yes.
- Are you excited about today?
Yes, I'm going to write just with my left hand.
-Are you excited about today?
No, I have a life outside of work, that I want to get to.

I imagine me talking to my doctor:
"I don't think I'm depressed,
I'm not, most of the time I feel content,
even so, I can't shake the feeling that there isn't a point to life"

I understand that lots of great things happen,
they do
and I'm grateful,
I enjoy lots of things.
I just don't see the point,
when the ultimate goal is death.

Then I think about famous people that have died,
their point was to be remembered after they've gone.
And we remember them, for whatever legacy they left behind,
but comparative to those who died, who we never heard of,
I think I'm in that latter category.
I'm an audience member.

Is that reason enough?

I will never Twitter.

Time.
Time
and time again,
where oh where has time gone?
I need more time,
I need some time,
I don't have time.

Do you have the time?
To talk?

As I have less time at home,
I am trying to find things to do at work,
that will save time at home.
I am typing and reading a novel.
I have read 3 novels at work in the past 2 weeks.
At my desk, spread open by two heavy tape dispensers.

P and A talk Facebook.
P is a work friend,
A would never have a Facebook ever.
P: I need to get one.
Me: It annoys me, I don't know how to use it, people
who I haven't talked to since school try to add me,
I press ignore, if I haven't talked to them since school,
why should I now?
P: Oh, I wont add you then, the fear of rejection.
Me: No, let's do this the old fashioned way.

I heard somewhere that lecturers were teaching grammar,
from old children's books.
eg the one I grew up with:
Susan and John are going to a party.
Susan puts on her party dress.

It certainly helps to learn the basics.
Though honestly, do you Twitter?
I will never Twitter.
Do you use Twitter?
I will never use Twitter.
Is Twitter a verb, or an adjective?

They're thinking of teaching school children,
how to blog and Twitter, instead of history.

I struggle daily, with being alive,
why should anyone care about what I'm doing?

Are we raising a bunch of say-it-alls
instead of know-it alls?

hellojett is wondering why she's alive.

Lights out. Candles on. Sexxx-ehh!

Would you rather

M couldn't sleep,
so that means
neither could I...

"Would you rather be married to someone,
with 10 wives or be married to 10 brothers?"

"Would you rather be
a normal mermaid,
or a reverse mermaid?"

Kid you're a dreamer

I've fucked up another friendship.

:(

I want to write here again.

Sick

I have been sick for 21 days.

I have come to accept that I will never

know what it is like to wake up and not

feel like I'm dying.

And one day.

It will be true.

And I've planned my funeral.

Some little girls plan their wedding.

Meh, I'm more likely to die.

Enter... people...

Perfect Day – Lou Reed.
Parents, sisters, B and M say a small speech, something nice about me…
L will read my “eulogy (panégyrique) personnel”

in beat poet style in her American accent.
L will then sit down and my casket will be lowered.

Where do you go to (my lovely) – Peter Sarstedt. (rpt…)
Exit… people…

So this M moving here business is so hard.

I was telling B last night, that I didn't know whether to

book flights, book "a ticket" or "tickets" to Martha Wainwright...

It's not just about me anymore.

I wonder if

...like when you've broken up with someone,

and you're devistated and lose weight and can't concentrate etc...

whether, I'll be like that when my lover lives with me.

Like mourning the loss of my single-life?

Probably.

I'm weird like that.

I just found this post in my saved items.
I'm not sure who the L who will read my eulogy is.

Are you lonesome tonight?

I slept in today,
so I called in Sick.

My back has been killing me all day
and I'm about to take a billion pain killers
just so it can go the fuck away.
OUCH.

I think I'm a bit lonely,
bored,
but not bored?
Depressed?
Who knows.
I'm reading education and art history
and its interesting.
I'm also reading Betraying Hitler,
and a manifesto that has no title and no author.

Still though
company and distractions,
would be pretty awesome right now.

Other than Skype, I mean!

(Read: Physical).