These are highlights from my journal that I kept in my red book in Australia. Obviously, it’s not everything. I was doing a whole bunch of thinking, and no one needs to read all of that. But these are the entertaining highlight parts.
Sunday, June 18th, 2000
So, on that note, let’s move on to Airport stories, ignoring the obvious parallels between this and my last trip to Australia. It was so lovely, being with Maree and Kate M and Brad and CLayton, the people I’m closest to. And yes, of course I cried. I’m going to be away a whole month, and I feel really bad about leaving Brad with all the responsibility of the bills and with finding us a flatmate. But honestly, this trip has been what has gotten me through the past couple of weeks. I have never needed or deserved a holiday more!
****
Stuff is nifty. My feet hurt from queing though! It took soooo long to get through customs. I got stuck in the middle of a whole bunch of Taiwanese on a package tour. They had a tour guide with them, I think, because he talked a lot, loudly, and everyone laughed. He had Elvis hair, and despite his saggy man breasts and beer belly, he was wearng a tight tshirt. It was truel truely hideous! There is a smell like rotton eggs on this plane, which is pretty hideous too.
I’m really excited about this holiday, despite the fact that I’m going to miss my Auckland friends like crazy. It’s going to be really good for me to spend some time alone and record my thoughts. I don’t have to be scared about what I’m thinking either, which is a pleasant change. You know what? I am so proud of myself for surviving when I thought I couldn’t. I mean, I know I broke down and begged Thomas to help me, but when he didn’t, I managed to pull through. Thank god for Shirley and Maree, and Mum especially. All my _friends_ mean so much to me. I want to make them proud of me by taking better care of myself.
Oh, the plane is taking off now. Bye bye Auckland! I wonder if we’ll crash. I don’t think I’d mind – not because I want to die, but because I feel really at peace right now. I’ve had my breakthroughs and everything. Oh dear, I think I’m going to cry again. I _always_ fucking cry at airports, although never before as bad as the last time.
You know, Kara has never seen me sober. Oh dear, she must think I’m a fucking fruit bat. Brave girl, I think she’s lovely. Clayton shouldn’t have been talking about Shirley in front of her. Neither should I. Damn. Ahh well. He’s such a sweetie, I hope they’re happy together!
*****
I think I have developed an unnatural obsession with my drink. I am amazed at how the lemon slice perfectly fits half the glass. I’m intrigued by the bubbles, and wondering how the fuck they could be drawn. I want to scan my glass and use it for a background for Hubris. I need to redesign. I want floating text over a fixed background. It looks like there’s a bullet mark in my window. I could see the bullet moving in slow motion through the window into me, and it just felt like the needle last time they took my blood. There was a _lot_ of vodka in this drink, I think. Oh, they’re serving dinne! It must be all of five pm. How Grandma! I’m still very full from my Pork McRib, but I’ll have a pick at it anyway. The pork McRib was very disappointing, unsuprisingly since I’ve been waiting 3 weeks for it. BUt still, it was good to have a goal!
Ohhh I have reached the very middle of this book. That is very cool. I only wish there was more good writing in this book, instead of dumb babble. Do you think I will ever be published? I’d so love that. I wish I could write a novel, something that would affect other people. I know I’m not supposed to talk about this, but the thing I am most terrified of is that I had no impact on Thomas at all, that I haven’t been significant to him. I know that was the case with Morphine Matt, and both of them affected _me_ so profoundly. I would hate it more than anything if I just didn’t matter to Thomas, if I hadn’t changed or enhanced him in any way.
Chicken or beef? Chicken or beef? Chicken I think. I wonder if I’ll eat again in Melbourne. Probably. But we might save Mihn Mihns for another night. Damn the vegetarian meal smells nice. I am so not hungry though. I had chocolate covered coffee beans and red bull for breakfast today. It made me babble lots, all that caffeine. I think everyone thinks i am looking better too. Sure, I’ve probably put back on the weight I lost (looser jeans were fun!) but maybe I have my spark back. I thought it was gone for good. What’s that Leonard Cohen line? “Thanks for the trouble you took from her eyes – I thought it was there for good, so I never tried”. Well, maybe one day I’ll meet the brother that will make me truely happy.
Witty banter again – the plane wings look awfully flimsy. I wonder if they are made from paper, and if that is completely legal. I should go find a bathroom sometime. After the meal. It’s okay – airplane toilets are too small to kneel in. I rememebr dancing around in my underwear last night in the handicapped stall at Roasted Adiquition, in between sari re-arrangements. Sassy! I’m so glad Shirley liked my speech – I just didn’t know how to do justice to all the things that she’s done for me.
The clouds look just like icebergs. I wonder if I’ll see any dancing penguins. Who the fuck came up with that concept, anyways? I mean, what links chips and penguins??? Oh wait, i guess they ARE called Bluebird. But penguins seem to show up in the oddest places. I mean, Squirt? Linux? What’s going on? Is there some secret penguin conspiracy? Maybe the Emperor penguins are taking themselves too literally.
I think coke should go back to 500mls, and the price should go down again. Fuck that dollar sixty stuff. Oh sorry, that came from me thinking about the 250ml cans you get on aeroplanes. In Japan, coke sometimes comes in 200ml cans, like Red Bull, only they have pull ring tabs that come right off, which are far more dangerous. Oh my god, I remember drinking like, cocoa and shit out of cans too. Here comes the drinks trolley again. But I’d better not. I feel drunk already.
Well, dinner’s over now, and I’m enjoying dessert. It was Chicken curry – not bad, pretty much like Eastern Curries. Better than the Healthy Choice monstrosity Brad brought home yesterday. I am, I am looking after myself! This custard looks remarkably like (admittedly yellower) semen, but it sure tastes a whole lot better. Oh I want your hot cum all over my tits! I think it’s a lot worse watching porn when you are no longer a naive little virgin. Although, quite frankly, how i managed to go through with intercourse after the penetration shots is beyond me!
****
Mmmm, filter coffee, blarrgh! Oh, AND a Bardot remix. Choysa tea, man. And speaking of tea, man I have embraced it very quickly. Which is a good thing. I am way too on edge. One day I am going to have a shoulder massage that won’t hurt because I’ll be so relaxed. Oh yes, I will! But whilst in Melbourne and Wellington, I’ll drink coffee. I don’t know how i’ll get through the days at the MOE otherwise. Mmmmm Fuel Coffee! And mmmm Fuel Hot Chocolate.
****
I think relationships should come with airsick bags. Motion sickness. Emotion sickness. Oh god, I am quoting silverchair. Just as well I switched to the concert station. Goddamit that coffee is FOUL. I really need to pee, but I think there’s someone in the bathroom. This polynesian guy and girl just walked past. They couldn’t have been more than 17, but they were carrying a baby. What goes on?
*****
We must get into Melbourne pretty soon hopefully. I have steel bladder, I can hold on! Fuck it’s going to be good to see Anji again. Must remember to claim sleeping bag. And ask at the bus counter where to get off closest to Fitzroy. Fuck I’ve written heaps. I’m going to read through again.
Ahh, aeroplane toilets. There’s a sign on the door inside that says “please lock” which I think is really unfair, because like, I’d really prefer for everyone to see me peeing. The rubbish bin has funny pictures of things on it that you’re supposed to dispose of in there – emotion sickness bags, razors, nappys. But then there’s something really weird that I can’t figure out, but I guess it must be a pad. Fucking odd looking pad. Maybe it’s like the real old fashioned kind you have to hook onto a belt thingie, like in “Are you there God, it’s me, Margaret”. Maybe. I’m cold. I want my hoodie. Only no, that’s in the cargo hold somewhere.
What does scratch aeroplane windows? They are always scratched, as far as I can tell, but it’s not like planes drive through foliage or anything. What an odd concept!
I keep writign down little quirky observations just like i keep going to reach for my bag and cellie to check for text messages. Only, no, my cellie is in Auckland, n a bag with my Macy Gray cd, my Geri book, and Ru-bear. I miss them all already!
I don’t get why Channel 7 is so much quieter than the other channels. Maybe I should write a letter of complaint. Ha! Beck is on the crooners’ channel, with “tropacalia”. That amuses me biglots.
Wow, I never knew where Melbourne was on the map until now. 46 minutes left. I’m bored. I need something to read! I want my cellphone and text messaging. Ah well. Maybe I’ll try napping. Oh fuck, I had coffee. Hmm, I need another vodka.
Later:
The airport seemd to take forever to clear. Then I had to find my way to the Skybus, and tere was absolutely nowhere to dump my trolley. I had to take it back into the terminal, where I gave it to some woman so she didn’t have to pay to get herself one (I was at the domestic terminal by that stage). But I managed to get myself onto the bus okay, and the bus driver told me to get off at Franklin Station. I was so so tired at that stage, and I just started thinking about how badly lost I got the last time. Plus, I think all the stress of the past month really started catching up to me, and I just about started to bawl. But I didn’t.
Getting off the bus, I was faced with the problem of finding a taxi. I’d kinda thought there would be a rank at the bus station, but no. So instead I set out to walk to a busy looking road, with my handbag and a backpack and suitcase and sleeping bag. I was _not_ a happy camper! No cabs passed me by, so I was searching for a rank. I finally came to some huge big building, so I figured there had to be one there. There was – it just had no taxis waiting. But there were about a dozen Asians. We all had to wait at least ten minutes before the first taxi arrived, and then of course, they got it first. A little while later another taxi came along, and i asked if he could take me to Fitzroy. He said he could, but was I first in line? No. So he said he’d call me another one. Then this girl came up to me and said she’d ordered a couple of taxis. She asked me where I was going, and suggested we share, so I agreed. A taxi came along then, and another one for the last of the Asians, and we were finally off. When we got to Napier Street, the girl said not to worry about paying, but the driver suggested i pay $5, so I did. They were both lovely. If I’d had to wait much longer for a taxi, I probably would have cried!
So we sat around in Anji’s lounge, and I met her flatmate Mike. He has two chicks staying with him, Racheal and Ange, who looked really really similar. At first I thought they were sisters, but when I saw them snogging, I realised otherwise. Racheal “did my numbers” for me, and what I read in the book seemed very true. Ange said she’d cut my hair for me, yay! We smoked some pot and had some red wine, then decided to flag going out to dinner because I was too tired, and Anji seemed kinda tired too. Instead, we ordered in Italian. Anji and I shared a vegetarian pizza. Mike brought down his cd mixer, so we played all sorts of music, from Flying Nun classics to very cool techno. Him and Rach had a fight and looked just like Tekken characters. Later they danced very cooly, like someone from Bust-A-Groove. It was nifty. The one downer was when they started playing Beth Orton, but I thought “no, I’m being dumb”. I am going to reclaim music, and create NEW associations for it. So there!
I’m reading Lolita because I feel like I should. Maybe it’ll offer insight into the whole school girl thing!
When I went to bed, I was like “awww I don’t have my teddy bear” so Anji biffed this huge big bear at me that belongs to Timmy. So I slept with that, and it was lovely. The bear was bigger around than Thomas even, but snored less.