Grace Notes @ Snarkattack

…disappointing, ill-timed and without warning -
autumn came.
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It’s amazing just how much memory one loses for the ‘little things’ when one starts going off the rails. In a way, slipping in and out of mental stability is like losing and winning on the stock exchange or something.
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Someone, I don’t know who, owes me big-time.

I got a faulty life and I want my money back. How much would my life be worth? How much is anyone’s life worth?
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Men are such bastards, perhaps I’m turning into a lesbian or something. Hey, it could be worse.
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Television is so bad for you.

I have my first official girl-crush ever - Lisa Loeb.
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So this nice, hot guy that promised to call did in fact do so, and somehow I even managed to get him to cook me this absolutely delicious meal. Beautiful, but almost sublime. Really.

Apparently, according to him, I talk about sex a lot; I seemed to have some habit of mentioning or pointing out that various objects were phallus substitutes (thank you arts degree, my brain will never be the same). In my defence, I tried to explain that me calling myself a poet is really just a socially acceptable way of saying I’m a big ol’ pervert. I’ve said this to quite a number of people before, too.

One could choose to write anything they want in this day and age…why poetry? There’s so much bad poetry in the world as it is, why do I feel the need to add to it?

When in doubt, blame it on Freud. Sigmund, you old perv, this is your fault!

Eek, on Saturday (March 18th), I turned 27. Somehow survived it too. Not sure why but a lot of fuss was made over it this year, I don’t understand why as it wasn’t any more special than any other birthday I’ve had. It just seems that a lot more people remembered it than usual, and I received lots of well wishes and a few cards.

Our family is currently living on remains of a splendid Indian feast, which suits me fine! Had a couple of friends over, and even got some unexpected gifts: a lovely lipgloss (Napoleon’s ‘Satin Lips’ in ‘Nickie’, orange-peach bronze), Footballers’ Wives seasons 2 & 3 on DVD from my brother and a nice flowerbox thingie from his girlfriend with a cute balloon.

Parents made quite the fuss, my mother getting a cake which we’re all struggling to finish. My two friends also got a bottle of shiraz to take home, and some leftovers of the gargantuan feast. Generous, but somehow slightly embarrassing. Sort of like my stomach after the meal.

Also got to taste Frangelico for the first time in a long while. Sure is yummy stuff, even with soy milk.

The word honden means ’shrine’ in Japanese, in case you were wondering. And in case a particular ‘Magic’ pal of mine is wondering, yes, I did know the word before discovering the delights of the ‘Kamigawa’ block.

Anyway, this is about a book I am trying to read. Lately, I’ve managed to finish a few books that have had bookmarks in them for a very long time. I have (attempting to no longer have) this dreadful habit of starting books based on my mood, meaning several unfinished, reading-in-progress books everywhere. Well, no more. This year, it stops. One of the reasons it’s hard for me to ‘commit’ to a book is that a lot of what I want to read is very mentally challenging and draining. Stimulating, yes, jam-packed with knowledge, double yes, but not always good for someone of a delicate mental constitution.
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This fantastic place opened up a while back devoted to more cult beauty goods, which aren’t too wallet-crippling, called Kit Cosmetics. Since my health has been pretty good, I’ve been venturing out into the city centre a lot more often and recently checked it out for the first time.
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