This is my first entry to inspirazzit...oh I means zee.
However given the trends appearant here this slip may be valid yet.
Where did the teen diary craze virus originate...London?
that'd be right.
No wonder you're all locked in doors and can't find a piccalo late anywhere.
Everyone is too freakin out on hormones.
I wouldn't know myself because I've been in meditation retreat.
Feeling wonderfully detached...as a result of some very powerful new methods I'm experimenting with. I'm teaching myself how to upload my mind to computer (by reading the manual). Not sure the reality I've encountered is quite the text book case though.
Sunday was here today, with red hair made of a few hours afternoon sun. She was well washed and full of ground water, our most waterlogged initiation to June...for, oh well, years or something.
While there was a little gap in the rain I purged my cave of rubbish and washed some camels.
It got raining again though so I've now brought them inside to dry. These blue haired camels that have replaced cars lately are great in many respects. They make sophisticated conversation.
Many things I have to admit cannot be distingushed by me as real or not real according to your relative sense of real at this stage.
There are a number of spirit beings that inhabit the same crossing over field as I do now.
In a way it is a bit like a party atmosphere around here.
While I do mention this, it does not extinguish the possibility that I am in a solitary retreat from your viewpoint.
I have been receiving jewels of coloured light beans into my mind and can exchange them for treats. They come to me as feelings and when I offer them to the elves at the market it makes them laugh a lot. The elf markets are full to brim with craziest bargains. Elves are tricky too, the other day I almost got talked into buying a rainbow knitted flute. Usually though I save my beans for travel. A few friendly elves are even teaching me how to travel according to my own will. They come to pick me up now and again, like every 83 or 96.652386 hours.
In between these trips I occupy myself with endless tasks.
These inbetween hours seem as many and long to me as do the lists of tasks.
I will not bore you with all the details, but will reassure you that the results are very worthwhile.
A thing in itself may seem too small to merit mention, but then over the years each effort adds together as it glows and floats and then gradually attains it's own interconnected schematic dimensionality.
This is living. As it goes, sometimes mellow and sometimes too fast. I love when it runs barebummed cheeky blue against the wind.
Perhaps next time I'll account for my sojourn with a bluebummed elf. Don't you hope so?
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Dearest Diary.
ready for a typical 14 yr old girls diary entry?
here it goes. nice and dramatic just the way you like it
Stupid boy. what the friggin hell is going on in his head. dead set why does he have to be so so confusing and hot n cold. One second he seems way keen the next he doesn't want a bar of it.
I think i am being stupid. i think i should just get out while my heart is still intact.
i definitely make all the effort. he kind of just goes with the flow. but then when i convince myself that he is a twat he goes and does something completely lovely.
what of it?! today i even gave him a crunchie and he helped me with my math:(
Glee is on tv in the background. everything is nice on glee. Gleeful even. humph!
Then to top everything off i worked out my birthday is not as close as i thought and cass wont be in the same state and Dophus, Eyali and Shiloh wont even be in Australia!
regret.
ex oh ex oh
Dear dear diary
Dear Diary, I’m sorry it’s been so long since I wrote you, but I’m happy at the moment. I only seem to be able to write when I’m sad or angry or if, say, its school holidays and none of my friends are around. Not that I’m at school anymore. Although I do remember thinking, OK waffle time...um, how does the colour purple make me feel? So I think about when it was that I last wrote or what I wrote about, and I can’t remember, without looking into the depths of storage and dragging them out. Although there was that one recent-ish time, when I was unhappy, and I wrote out my life, how I wanted it to be, as if it had happened, writing in the full moonlight, and keeping it under my mattress for a year or two. When I found it again, nothing actually had happened the way I wanted it to. Damn positive affirmations. But I think I’ll do that again soon. You never know. Like a diary, I find it’s nice to be reminded of how we felt at one point in time, how we felt exactly. Because I’m acutely aware of how you think you felt, what you think happened, but how much you blocked out, forgot or just mixed up with other memories or looking at old photographs, and what ACTUALLY happened. That’s why I haven’t thrown out my embarrassingly conflicted, soul searching memoir-diary’s yet. I want to know how I felt at 11 when I first started writing. Why did I hate Mum so much? When was my first truth-dare-double-dare kiss, or pretend pash on the tree branch? I’ve also got that ‘ love letter from first boyfriends box’, I wonder why I can’t bear to throw out? I just love collecting, like one day someone might open a museum about my life...um...(coughs)... OK, I am embarrassingly sentimental, and that’s why I get upset when I realise I haven’t received a love letter (or an email) since I first started dating my current love. I even started writing “Letters to an unborn Child”, but only wrote like one entry. These days we have blogs or personal emails that stay in our sent boxes for years, so maybe I can piece together the later years in my life that way, if I feel the need. Now I’m trying to remember how I signed off in my teenage diaries...Good night dear diary, see you tomorrow! xx
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Google Manana
Introducing the latest in mythical software...
This revolutionary Google addon/upgrade/plugin is set to rock the socks of those with a full diary.
The software is fully compatible with all digital diaries including MS outlook, google this & google that. It features the essential 'Auto Manana' function.
About Auto Manana
When users engage auto manana it takes all appointments and automatically reschedules them for tomorrow, thus freeing up the users diary and saving valuable time, no longer do users have to reschedule these entries manually.
Rate this.
This revolutionary Google addon/upgrade/plugin is set to rock the socks of those with a full diary.
The software is fully compatible with all digital diaries including MS outlook, google this & google that. It features the essential 'Auto Manana' function.
About Auto Manana
When users engage auto manana it takes all appointments and automatically reschedules them for tomorrow, thus freeing up the users diary and saving valuable time, no longer do users have to reschedule these entries manually.
Rate this.
Moving country: pros and cons
Dear Diary,
Ok lets nut this one out...
Pros:
Reasons I am excited about moving to Israel in a month (a month!!),
You know that feeling when you are in another country, at a beach somewhere and there is reggae music playing, or a few guitars around a campfire, people are singing and talking, the night air is warm and smell exotic, and maybe there is a joint being passed around? Maybe there is a dog asleep on a lounge chair that has been dragged outside... everyone looks pretty comfortable with themselves and smile at you when you catch their eye?
And you know when you are in another country and it is late at night, and you are hungry, and you drive around a wide awake city to a little sidewalk somewhere near the beach and an old Arab man is rolling dough making sweet and savoury delicacies in his wood fired oven? There are a bunch of teens and others standing around, you can hear the waves crashing and see city lights across the bay as you eat the steaming hot pastries and listen to the Arabic and Hebrew...
And you know that feeling you get, when you are walking somewhere, somewhere really really old. Somewhere where people have been walking, singing, fighting and loving for centuries, the paving is worn smooth with small hollows from people walking along it...the huge blocks of granite and sandstone are worn from fingers touching them and sitting stacked for hundreds of years. Layers upon layers of human civilisation, and you can feel it...
And you know, when you are in another country and you meet with a stranger, and you manage to master a phrase, or a small conversation, enough to make contact entirely in another language? The feeling of connection to the "other", the realisation that others are like you, the good will generated by your trying and their patience...
Cons:
The news today...
And, you know, some nights you can hear helicopters flying low, blacked out (no lights) maybe heading for Lebanon? Gaza? And cold fear awakens ("look mummy there's an airoplane up in the sky..."), the necessity to have a gas mask in the house... a bomb shelter in every building, fragile people hiding in a shell, and the young men and women, with friendly, hard faces carrying their M16s.
Conclusions:
Confused.
(This part to be filled in with more detail on my way home... ).
Ok lets nut this one out...
Pros:
Reasons I am excited about moving to Israel in a month (a month!!),
You know that feeling when you are in another country, at a beach somewhere and there is reggae music playing, or a few guitars around a campfire, people are singing and talking, the night air is warm and smell exotic, and maybe there is a joint being passed around? Maybe there is a dog asleep on a lounge chair that has been dragged outside... everyone looks pretty comfortable with themselves and smile at you when you catch their eye?
And you know when you are in another country and it is late at night, and you are hungry, and you drive around a wide awake city to a little sidewalk somewhere near the beach and an old Arab man is rolling dough making sweet and savoury delicacies in his wood fired oven? There are a bunch of teens and others standing around, you can hear the waves crashing and see city lights across the bay as you eat the steaming hot pastries and listen to the Arabic and Hebrew...
And you know that feeling you get, when you are walking somewhere, somewhere really really old. Somewhere where people have been walking, singing, fighting and loving for centuries, the paving is worn smooth with small hollows from people walking along it...the huge blocks of granite and sandstone are worn from fingers touching them and sitting stacked for hundreds of years. Layers upon layers of human civilisation, and you can feel it...
And you know, when you are in another country and you meet with a stranger, and you manage to master a phrase, or a small conversation, enough to make contact entirely in another language? The feeling of connection to the "other", the realisation that others are like you, the good will generated by your trying and their patience...
Cons:
The news today...
And, you know, some nights you can hear helicopters flying low, blacked out (no lights) maybe heading for Lebanon? Gaza? And cold fear awakens ("look mummy there's an airoplane up in the sky..."), the necessity to have a gas mask in the house... a bomb shelter in every building, fragile people hiding in a shell, and the young men and women, with friendly, hard faces carrying their M16s.
Conclusions:
Confused.
(This part to be filled in with more detail on my way home... ).
Diary entry..
Hmm... A diary entry. What a potentially confronting topic!
I have made so very many diary entries over the years and I think that a common theme would have to be the healing power of a journal entry in times of strife. Perhaps its just me but when I am having a great time, I am not generally thinking about writing in a book - I am out enjoying myself! Although the exception to this rule (in true rambling, journal-style tangent) is when in the throes of adventure!
So, perhaps the common theme is the desire to speak coupled with the need to dissect perhaps. I certainly don't much write in a diary in company-its definitely a solitary affair-and for me the liberation comes in being able to write whatever I am feeling without recourse to logic or general accountability-like a good shrink!
Again - that theory holds more true for moments (or weeks or months! Boo hiss) of heartbreak and soul searching.
That other time of diary keeping-when out in the world adventuring and experiencing - when life is far too exciting not to record it, what a journal joy!
Both have their place and their sentimentality. I have diaries from when I was 10 recording how I would remain best friends forever and had already found true love..
Then there are the diaries of following years right up to this day that I still have-the pages filled with my hopes,dreams,fears and triumphs that somehow I can never bring myself to throw away.. Although perhaps the odd unbearably cringe worthy page gets torn out or poem transcribed mostly this random collection of diary entries that become books filled with doodles and colored pages, old romance and old plane tickets simply sit in random cardboard boxes collecting dust.
Every few years I come across one and read back down through time to a younger me and a different life. Yet that is what stops me throwing them away possibly -how it is a record of a different me and a different time and yet inevitably so much that is important remains the same. Also I get a thrill to rediscover the details of some old adventure or love letter. To throw it away, to discount its value is not something I have yet been able to do.
I record moments and days and encounters in pages and papers and computers, there are times -like right now in fact- when the most beautiful way to interpret existence is to try and describe it-and there are so many ways to do it. Art,music,conversation,a long walk in the forest, a swim in the ocean or a simple diary entry (my favorite is in an exotic café over breakfast and coffee with stories of yesterday and dreams of tomorrow and content for today).
I think since time immemorial we as individuals search for meaning to this time alive and want sometimes to leave a mark. Even if that is a modest "this is me, this is what I did and this how I feel, I am alive. I exist". A hand print in a cave.
I think its intriguing to imagine some great grand relation discovering ones diaries and finding a small self created window to your long lost soul – that thought makes me aspire to entries that are fun filled and inspiring. Full of adventure and achievements,sex, drugs and rock 'n roll,love and kindness, humility and grandeur. Contradiction and commitment, the odd cartwheel and back flip and above all stories of freedom.. So many opportunities and possibilities!
Testament to a life well lived. What more could you ask of a diary entry than that?
A day in the life......
7.30am Hmmm still sleeping. Bloody Rat Thing licking my eyes again, gross.
10.00am I can hear them stirring. Yippee! Yahooo! Wiiihaaa! I'll run up the hall and make some noise... that's sure to get them going.
10.30am *Groan* *Sigh* CUUUMMMOOOOON!!! It's time I've been so patient... so calm so reserved!
10.45am They're up! They're up! Pants are on. He's reaching for the lead. We're going, hip hip hooray!
10.50am The car! The car! We're going in the car!!
11.00am Ahhhh fresh air, wet grass, so many bums to sniff and people to freak out..... freeeeeeedom!
11.30am Back in the car. Ready to face the day. I love the car..... *ahhhhh*
11.45am Breakfast time. I wonder what's on the menu? Ahh yes dry biscuits and canned food, beef I believe. Delish.
11.50am. Done. Come on Rat Thing you can't eat all that, get over it. Woohoo he's wandered away... dessert.
12.30pm So sleepy.... time for a snooze in the sun.... *snore*
2.00pm Still sleeping.....
2.14pm Stretch, what are they doing? Ha watching that box thing again... boring. I might have another nap.
3.00pm They're leaving. Wonder where they go out there? Back to the park? Without me? Hmmm guess I'll sleep.
6.00pm I hear keys. They're back! They're back! Open the door.... SOOOOO slow. Hello. Hello. Hello! I'm still here. You're here... oooh the love, you're so smelly, ahhhh hello hello.
6.30pm Hmmm fridge door..... is that meat I smell. Ha yes! Standing around watching... they stir pots and add stuff.... but the smell... so aromatic, so amazing *drool*
7.00pm Watching, waiting, anticipating. Damn the man one... he chews every last skerrick off the bone. Damn I hope I get her one... but look she's making pretty decent work of her bone too. Damn you people... give a dog a bone!
7.50pm They're up.. heading to the kitchen, plates clinking..... ahhh bones..... "Outside, take it outside" Ohhh ok then whatever... just give me that bloody bone already.
8.00pm I don't understand why The Rat Thing gets to eat his in the house.... stoopid Rat Thing, left tasty delight unattended.... it's mine!
9.00pm So sleepy.......
9.15pm *snore*
12.00am Off they go... back to the bedroom... time to sleep.... so sleepy... ahh bed so smelly..... The Rat Thing is in my bed *sigh*
12.01am Rat Thing licking my eyes and ears again.... kinda nice..... into lovely smelly bed. What a day!
7am: They're still asleep... I might as well snooze... ahh bed so smelly and cozy....
Day 12
It's been 12 days since it started. I don't know why I'm writing this, maybe in the hope it's not the end of the world, maybe in the hope it's not the end of my own life, maybe in the hope the cockroaches will read it in a thousand years and know what happened to us. They'll probably already know though.
Nobody know why it started. No terrorist groups have claimed responsibilty, there has been no disease like it in history, man or animal. The most, and it isn't very, logical explanation is that this is the apocalypse and the final horseman has arrived. Some say it's not fair, we didn't have any warning, we didn't have evil, war and famine. Others say we've known them for decades, gazing fondly on them every day, fondly as comforting friend, eating a take away pad thai (that's television cockroaches.. remember them, I know you used to like the warm insides of mine..).
It doesn't really matter any more, we're here now. It's surprisingly real. I always imagined what it would be like, to live a catastrophe. It was always surreal in my mind. But it feels like life now, except the rules have changed. A lot. It's hard to adjust, it's been less than two weeks. I could walk outside, take a car, drive it off the Harbour bridge. Find another one, do it again. I could go down to Rushcutter's bay, find a really expensive car, and do it one more time. Nobody would care. But it's probably too dangerous. Not driving the car.
We haven't left the house for 12 days. Furniture, wood, anything we could use, has been used to board up the windows and doors. I don't think we've needed it yet, but it's only a matter of time. Even the bad people seem to be having trouble adjusting, or maybe they're driving cars off bridges.
Or maybe they're scared too. The disease strikes quickly, maybe they're treasuring they're last minutes of life, maybe they all killed each other, maybe they're praying. Maybe I should be praying instead of writing. I don't feel like it'll do much good. Maybe I should be praying for it to take me quickly.
It started in London. Well that was the first recorded case, it was either the most public first case or it was the first case and was proof it was deliberately started. It was right in the middle of Kings Cross station at 5:47pm on Monday the 17th of November 2013. Right in the middle of rush hour. It didn't matter though, within hours there were cases being reported globally, Japan, Canada, Hawaii, even Alaska. From little information we got before the world shut down, it is airborne, incubation is completely random, anywhere from around 3 hours to 12 days, but it's unknown how much of that time the person is contagious. Some people seem to be immune, nobody know why. A person who has the disease has no warning or indication. The live their life as normal (or as completely abnormal after the first even) then they start to feel hot. Within half an hour almost all the water in their body has evaporated. Like a spontaneous combustion of contagious toxic steam, leaving a brittle dry grinning human jerky shell.
We've been packing. We have to move soon. I think there must have to be a calm in the storm, when only the immune are left, but before they can get organised into gang or packs or tribes or brigands or pirates or whatever they will be called. They'll stake out bridges and roads and prey on all who leave the cities. Other's will prey on those that stay. We have to try to make it home. It's the only place I can think that will be safe. The old hippies who saved seeds for the end of the world will be laughing on their mountain of dry rustling treasure, like Smaug, without the fire breath. If they're not dead. If they didn't tell too many people they have hoards of life keeping seeds. Maybe we should look for seeds before we leave the city. Others will have thought of it, but maybe not. I'll add it to the list. I can't believe I have a shopping list for the end of the world. My shopping list is stupid. I can't leave anything. It's suddenly all valuable. I'm taking DVDs, Laptops, iPhones, clothes, blankets, the garden hose, soap, knives, pots and pans, computer games. All the stupid things I would leave behind on a normal trip. I want to take my books, but they're too heavy. We'll find a way to make electricity again, the hippies have solar and generators. I think I'll be able to trade, I'll probably just leave them on the road though. I'm gambling on the end of the world being boring… maybe I'm stupid, maybe a glimpse of the old world will be valuable to people.
I think tomorrow is the day. We'll leave early in the morning, I feel like bad people don't like waking up early. I don't like waking up early. Maybe I'm bad, maybe all the good people were taken away, leaving the bad people for judgment. We'll drive as far as we can. If the car is still there, if there is petrol in it. I hope we have enough to make it. Maybe we can syphon some on the way.. if we don't get killed.
We should see if our friends and family are alive. I don't know if it will be too dangerous. I can't stand the thought of leaving anyone behind, but I can't stand the thought of dying either, ambushed on the way to picking up our already desiccated friends. I think we'll have to decide tomorrow. I wonder if my brother is alive. There were theories immunity was hereditary. Well that's one advantage of being in the land of short people. In the land of the midgets the long neck man is king. I hope he is.
Will we take the dogs? It seems stupid, they just eat food that we could be eating. They might make noise when we're hiding from an ambush. I can't leave them behind. I'm still a stupid, city slicker. I haven't got post-apocalyptic nerve yet. Mad Max wouldn't take the dogs, unless he was going to eat them. Or did he have a dog? Guess I'll never know. Wikipedia is still out there somewhere.. it's just sitting quietly in some abandoned data centre, probably still whirring away with backup generators, maybe contemplating why it's so quite, wondering why it fell out of fashion. Or plotting the end of the world, Terminator style, not knowing we're already fucked. Maybe the T1000 will go back in time to kill the person who started the virus so they can take over the world properly. Well better plot quickly little computer, those generators will run out soon.
Tomorrow we move. Maybe tomorrow night we'll be home, or dead. I hope you, my friends and family, are reading this as we sit together by the fire, tomorrow night or the next night, or any night. I'll trade anyone 10 things I hate about you, Legally Blonde and 5 others of your choosing for Mad Max. Guess it's an educational video now.
Nobody know why it started. No terrorist groups have claimed responsibilty, there has been no disease like it in history, man or animal. The most, and it isn't very, logical explanation is that this is the apocalypse and the final horseman has arrived. Some say it's not fair, we didn't have any warning, we didn't have evil, war and famine. Others say we've known them for decades, gazing fondly on them every day, fondly as comforting friend, eating a take away pad thai (that's television cockroaches.. remember them, I know you used to like the warm insides of mine..).
It doesn't really matter any more, we're here now. It's surprisingly real. I always imagined what it would be like, to live a catastrophe. It was always surreal in my mind. But it feels like life now, except the rules have changed. A lot. It's hard to adjust, it's been less than two weeks. I could walk outside, take a car, drive it off the Harbour bridge. Find another one, do it again. I could go down to Rushcutter's bay, find a really expensive car, and do it one more time. Nobody would care. But it's probably too dangerous. Not driving the car.
We haven't left the house for 12 days. Furniture, wood, anything we could use, has been used to board up the windows and doors. I don't think we've needed it yet, but it's only a matter of time. Even the bad people seem to be having trouble adjusting, or maybe they're driving cars off bridges.
Or maybe they're scared too. The disease strikes quickly, maybe they're treasuring they're last minutes of life, maybe they all killed each other, maybe they're praying. Maybe I should be praying instead of writing. I don't feel like it'll do much good. Maybe I should be praying for it to take me quickly.
It started in London. Well that was the first recorded case, it was either the most public first case or it was the first case and was proof it was deliberately started. It was right in the middle of Kings Cross station at 5:47pm on Monday the 17th of November 2013. Right in the middle of rush hour. It didn't matter though, within hours there were cases being reported globally, Japan, Canada, Hawaii, even Alaska. From little information we got before the world shut down, it is airborne, incubation is completely random, anywhere from around 3 hours to 12 days, but it's unknown how much of that time the person is contagious. Some people seem to be immune, nobody know why. A person who has the disease has no warning or indication. The live their life as normal (or as completely abnormal after the first even) then they start to feel hot. Within half an hour almost all the water in their body has evaporated. Like a spontaneous combustion of contagious toxic steam, leaving a brittle dry grinning human jerky shell.
We've been packing. We have to move soon. I think there must have to be a calm in the storm, when only the immune are left, but before they can get organised into gang or packs or tribes or brigands or pirates or whatever they will be called. They'll stake out bridges and roads and prey on all who leave the cities. Other's will prey on those that stay. We have to try to make it home. It's the only place I can think that will be safe. The old hippies who saved seeds for the end of the world will be laughing on their mountain of dry rustling treasure, like Smaug, without the fire breath. If they're not dead. If they didn't tell too many people they have hoards of life keeping seeds. Maybe we should look for seeds before we leave the city. Others will have thought of it, but maybe not. I'll add it to the list. I can't believe I have a shopping list for the end of the world. My shopping list is stupid. I can't leave anything. It's suddenly all valuable. I'm taking DVDs, Laptops, iPhones, clothes, blankets, the garden hose, soap, knives, pots and pans, computer games. All the stupid things I would leave behind on a normal trip. I want to take my books, but they're too heavy. We'll find a way to make electricity again, the hippies have solar and generators. I think I'll be able to trade, I'll probably just leave them on the road though. I'm gambling on the end of the world being boring… maybe I'm stupid, maybe a glimpse of the old world will be valuable to people.
I think tomorrow is the day. We'll leave early in the morning, I feel like bad people don't like waking up early. I don't like waking up early. Maybe I'm bad, maybe all the good people were taken away, leaving the bad people for judgment. We'll drive as far as we can. If the car is still there, if there is petrol in it. I hope we have enough to make it. Maybe we can syphon some on the way.. if we don't get killed.
We should see if our friends and family are alive. I don't know if it will be too dangerous. I can't stand the thought of leaving anyone behind, but I can't stand the thought of dying either, ambushed on the way to picking up our already desiccated friends. I think we'll have to decide tomorrow. I wonder if my brother is alive. There were theories immunity was hereditary. Well that's one advantage of being in the land of short people. In the land of the midgets the long neck man is king. I hope he is.
Will we take the dogs? It seems stupid, they just eat food that we could be eating. They might make noise when we're hiding from an ambush. I can't leave them behind. I'm still a stupid, city slicker. I haven't got post-apocalyptic nerve yet. Mad Max wouldn't take the dogs, unless he was going to eat them. Or did he have a dog? Guess I'll never know. Wikipedia is still out there somewhere.. it's just sitting quietly in some abandoned data centre, probably still whirring away with backup generators, maybe contemplating why it's so quite, wondering why it fell out of fashion. Or plotting the end of the world, Terminator style, not knowing we're already fucked. Maybe the T1000 will go back in time to kill the person who started the virus so they can take over the world properly. Well better plot quickly little computer, those generators will run out soon.
Tomorrow we move. Maybe tomorrow night we'll be home, or dead. I hope you, my friends and family, are reading this as we sit together by the fire, tomorrow night or the next night, or any night. I'll trade anyone 10 things I hate about you, Legally Blonde and 5 others of your choosing for Mad Max. Guess it's an educational video now.
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