Grace Notes @ Snarkattack

Thanks to my housemate Frosty, I’m in possession of a ticket to go and see Ladytron in concert. Woo hoo! Thanks love! Even though he doesn’t read my blog.

A fair while back, I sent M two poems of mine and he sent me back some comments on them. I’m a bit stuck when it comes to what to do with the punctuation of both of them, but these are minor issues. He also seems to think the one on Agamemnon’s death is publishable (very nice of him to say so, personally and professionally his opinion means a lot to me). Initially, I didn’t like it so much when I wrote it, but returned to it a few months after and am warming to it a bit more.

It was actually the product of a writing exercise in Writing Poetry by Julia Casterton - she discussed the death of Agamemnon and then directed us, the reader, to write a poem about how he felt about his death (practically everything about the Ancient Greeks is tragic…).

The other poem is about four lines long. I recently read it to a newer friend of mine, JW, who remarked when I went to get my notebook “How come you don’t know your own poetry off by heart?” You know, I’ve no idea. Why don’t I? I created it, surely you’d think I should…maybe it’s because people never ask me about my stuff so I think it’s not worth memorising (I don’t, actually. Though I should, I’d probably recite it better). I did read it out to him, but was pretty nervous, and read it out quite badly.

I’ll need to work on that. I don’t want to be all Tim Burton and sound dumb when I talk (he interviews really badly - not because he’s stupid, I mean, it’s pretty freaking obvious the man is supernaturally talented. He’s just not confident) or recite my own work. Because then people won’t think it’s worth hearing, if I recite it in a manner that suggests I’m apologising for soiling your ears.

I wish I could be like Fat Cow Poet. She was plenty up herself for the both of us, maybe even a few more people.

Did this ages ago, but can’t remember what I got the first time. Anyway, here is my results now.

I only wish I thought I were better than other people. Life would be a good deal easier…

Last night I went over to DH’s place and was treated to a fabulous spaghetti carbonara yet again. I didn’t go to work because I was still not…well. I did, however, make it to the first dress fitting for my brother’s wedding, which miraculously took no time at all. I think we spent more time travelling to and fro, and trying to get out of my brother’s future-in-laws’ house.

I was a good deal relieved when I finally made it to DH’s place. I told him about my week of epic fail last week, and then we got all excited over Mozart piano concertos (yes, I realise these two things are not related). He expressed some shock at the fact that I’ve not read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I know, I know, dreadful of me.

While we sipped our port, JM, DH’s housemate came home and we talked about psychoanalytic readings of Lord of the Rings (this is becoming something of a personal joke) and The Chronicles of Narnia - more so about Narnia because JM is studying theology and is very interested in C. S. Lewis. He asked me if I were coming to his 30th in a couple of weeks, for which the theme is the 1930s. I said yes, and that I even plan to come in costume. It then came up in conversation that I hadn’t yet read The Great Gatsby (well, I’ve read a graphic novel adaptation, but that’s hardly the same, I know, I know…).

I was looking quite the bad lit nerd.

Was a fantastic night, DH remarked that I looked like I’d lost more weight. What girl doesn’t want to hear those words?!?! I get a great dinner, sparkling dinner conversation, great grog, and that as an observation! Sweetness.

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I’ve been a bit neglectful of the whole olfactory pleasures of late…

And naturally, I’m up after having slept some weird hours, so thought I would test my ‘I Smell Good’ decants. I don’t really know much about this company, but thought I’d give the decants a shot because someone was running a circle for them.
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A successful poem is, as Williams said, a machine made out of words; if it is properly constructed it cannot fail to perform its function, which is to control its reader, by its selective and stylized processional means, that the reader ‘cannot choose to hear.’

— Helen Vendler, Contemporary American Poetry (9th ed.), p. 9.

Haha, I feel smart. I already knew this.

Nah, I don’t feel that smart.

It might make a bit more sense if you’ve heard the original…(click here if you want to hear it, it was featured on an Apple iPod advert a while back)

I like the Sesame Street version better, it kind of made my day. She’s such a good sport, ne?

Woke up very early this morning with a slight hangover from the red wine at my parents’ place. Despite this week’s two crappy incidents, I was feeling pretty damn good. It might have had something to do with the fact that I was having breakfast out with neighbour-friend (okay, so he’s my friend and was my friend before we became neighbours).

Went to a place in North Melbourne called Fandango. Service is…interesting.

Breakfast was…

…ace.

I had French toast (or le pain perdu for the Frenchies, giggle) which was ginormous. Yes, I realise this is not a word a budding word-smith should be using, but it was. Dangerous Dave, or should I say ‘good-looking Dave’ (actually, I call him neighbour Dave. These things help when you and your friends know many Daves, and know many of the same) had beetroot eggs.

We were deceived by the ’squeezed daily’ orange juice…(I shall not reproduce the nerdy debate that we went into, surely one can imagine). We had yet another discussion about Joy Division and the film Control. I then guessed at the reasons as to why one would not tell someone how they got a particular injury rather resembling something one might get when one punches an inanimate object.

Today is my friend CM’s birthday. She’s going to be down in Melbourne town for the day to celebrate, which includes dinner, and seeing a show. I originally wasn’t going to the show but someone pulled out, and she gave me a free (squee!) ticket to go and see Stephen Sondheim’s Follies.

I think she had a good time, which is of the utmost importance! Follies was ace, but it made me a little sad…it was about love, and I’d been thinking about that very topic on the way into the city to see CM.

The worst was the trip home, very late at night. It seemed lonely enough for me to wish I had enough money to buy a ticket to somewhere out of Australia. Been a long time since I felt like that. Um, I’m still going to be the same stupid mess abroad that I am here, now. Same stupid slutty mess.

Yesterday was pretty depressing, depressing enough that I wasn’t able to go to work today - that hasn’t happened for ages.

But all was not lost! I got to have dinner with my mate OM who I had not seen for absolutely ages. We went down to a formerly-old-man pub that seemed to be mysteriously closed up early, so we headed back to one of my fave haunts the Town Hall Hotel. OM had kangaroo, I had roast pork - complete with crackling. Christ, it’s been ages!

Somehow pints of Coopers Pale Ale didn’t seem quite enough so we headed down to a local bar Rrose…where OM pretty much soothed my bruised heart by buying us cocktails. Yum. I can’t remember fully what OM’s one had, but mine was made of vanilla-infused vodka and rosewater, with an icing sugar rimmed edge. So it basically tasted like very alcoholic Turkish delight. Wow. It was called the ‘Persian Princess’. After that, we had very nice hot chocolates and semi-staggered back to my place.

I spent most of today in bed but again went out for dinner - this time with my fiancee, as it’s her birthday. Went to a local Thai place, had deep-fried tofu with chilli sauce (upon OM’s recommendation, actually) and a pork mince salad. Tried out one of the Asian beers they offered and then headed back to fiancee’s (real) partner’s place for generous servings of choc-mint ice cream and watched the film St Trinian’s before collectively drooling over Jessica Alba and walking home.

As I walked home, a little unfamiliar though in my own neighbourhood, I saw something scamper across the road. It was smaller than a cat. Eventually it stopped alongside a tree, I assume to contemplate climbing up. As I approached it didn’t run away - it was a possum, its tail to the ground, set in meerkat-like posture. I said hello to it and kept walking.

…mentioned that I’m apparently not tall enough. It doesn’t really matter, he has…disposed of me for other many, varied reasons which are only really known to him. Doormats are after all supposed to accept this fate!

But trust xkcd to crack me up about it…hehe.

*giggle*

Lookee here!

He’s not the first boy I’ve met that’s made some slight on my lack of height. Curse those pesky genetics! *shakes fist*

Yeah well, if he’s complaining I wasn’t happy the last time I saw him, I’m definitely unhappy now, and he’s the cause. I’m lame, I know. But I’m sure boy-related lameness will soon pass.

It wasn’t super-exciting, it was just…ace.

I guess probably because I didn’t spend it all sleeping as last week I slept a bit better than usual. Ah sweet relief.

Woke up nice and late on Sat, went to the local coffee shop with my neighbour/friend DS and Rob, found a cockroach in my purse and naturally freaked out - it crawled out of the notes sleeve just as I went to pay for my hazelnut hot chocolate (gustatory sex…wow. Had actual crushed hazelnuts in it, none of this additive syrup shit). Got home, faffed around, FD came around to wax his snowboard, as well as tell of his love woes (poor dear). Then DS, me and FD went to local burger joint, got burgers, went to a bar while waiting for said burgers, came back to mine to watch I Heart Huckabees. Drank nice homebrew, laughed our heads off and the night soon finished.

Sun I spent being pretty nappy and attempted to have Vegemite on toast (having been brought up in England, I’m convinced Marmite is better. I swear it’s beefier. Vegemite is too salty). Rang parents, got another lecture, father semi-bullied me into not coming over for dinner because apparently I wasn’t staying long enough. Hmm. This meant no dinner. It also means I have to visit my parents on Friday night and stay over (why do I have to stay over? I want to sleep in my own bed dammit, with my surrogate puss and soft toy Firefox…grrr).
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Your result for The Attachment Style Test…

The Doormat

60% Anxiety Over Abandonment and 58% Avoidance Of Intimacy

Take The Attachment Style Test at HelloQuizzy

Hmm, I always did feel rather sorry for Eeyore.

Rob convinced me to ride my bike to a lovely lass’ birthday party last night…which meant we drank beer and giggled lots before we got there. Hope you had a good one Cat! I was actually planning to drive but in Rob’s words, “fuck that shit”.

I am an absolute retard on a bike.

No, really.

I fell off dismounting and scraped my knee (a tad…inebriated on the way home…). I might add that dismounting is somewhat more stationary than riding. Been a long time since I got a scrape on my knee (the last time it happened was a few years ago, when I first moved out of home. I was chasing an escaped rabbit…).

Hopefully, fiancee is reading this and will be proud to know I actually cycled somewhere (or attempted to)…and in the freezing cold and rain!

Bruno-puss slept with me last night, I felt pretty special. This week, I’ve had three nights where I’ve actually slept more than five hours. It seems…precious. Sadly, it has largely been…alcohol-assisted. I am aware that this is not really a good thing.

I wish I’d written this following poem.
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