…vanish

Tuesday, July 16th 2002

Last night I was reading The Elephant Vanishes by Haruki Murakami in bed. Have you read it? I’m not sure if it’s out yet – I have a publisher’s copy of it from my book pimp Karen. Well, it’s short stories, and it seemed like every single story made me want to write a response to it, each story related to something I’ve had or experienced or felt. And I didn’t write any of it down, because i figured if I started doing that then I’d never sleep, but I have to put at least one down, and it’s about ‘The Kangaroo Communique’. A department store worker writes a letter to a customer he’s never met because of her complaint letter, and he tells her all these really random things and makes her an audio tape of him saying even more random things, and it totally made me think of you and your twenty three page letter that you sent me. He was crazy, and you were dorky and self concious, but I’m really glad that you did act “so out of character that the audience would be booing if this was a film because it wasn’t realistic” to paraphrase you badly. And yeah, that was it, basically.

Today I meant to get up at a decent hour, but I was dreaming that I was posessed and it was rather traumatic and I hope it wasn’t supposed to be my religious ephiphamy, because I can’t even spell the world, let alone believe in it. Also, I could see my breath from above the duvet, and I have lime green sheets and a pink duvet cover, so I was in no hurry to get out of bed. But eventually I did make it up, and I was domesticated and cleaned the kitchen. And then later KateH on MSN told me to go and meet her for coffee, so I unloaded the freezer and unplugged it and left it wide open to defrost, and went ot Parnell to meet her. We sat in the courtyard of Strawberry Alarm Clock and she ate my mushrooms on toast cos if you give her an inch she takes a mile, and discussed friends of hers that this audience hasn’t heard about and decided we should go and beat them up. And we made tentative plans to go to Fu on Friday, which’ll be kickass. Also on Friday night, I’m picking Bopha up at the airport, so YAY, i will have my darling flatmate back. I’m grumpy at Clay tonight cos he didn’t say anything about the amazing transformation of our freezer from a tiny icey hole into the ice free environment that it is now. I even scraped the ice off all the containers in there with food he’s cooked and squirreled away like a rodent so that you can tell what they are. He has NEVER cleaned out the freezer. Grrr. If he doesn’t clean the fridge sometime real soon, I will spit tacks. Either that or just sulk at him all the time. That’s always real effective. Not.

My books have gone slightly mouldy from being stacked in my wardrobe, lovely. I might go and alphabetise them right now cos there’s no one to talk to online. I want to go out! Tomorrow is my last ever day of holidays, really, since in Septmeber I will probably be working full time cos Bridget is going away for a conference for three weeks and Teri will be leaving soon after. Shit, last ever day of holidays – maybe I should get up at 9am and then get drunk all day long, by myself, like the misery guts that i am. That sounds like a solid idea. Either that, or I could stay in bed.

I got to use my first green sticker in my Vinne’s Know Your Flow Journal today. Exciting! I want to buy a stereo and so I’m tossing up between that or new glasses. The glasses are probably more important, right? Of course, both are dependant on me finding the cheque from Oma. I wonder if it would be wrong to write her an email saying that I need to go to San Francisco. Yeah, it probably would, eh?

Ooh kickass, I found the cheque buried in my wardrobe. Excellent. She wrote on the envelope “always be loved” and that’s just so lovely, it’d be worth so much more than the cheque to know that I would always be loved.

Arrrgh, so much stuff in my closet that needs to be cleaned of mould. My boots are all spotty – luckily it wipes off. And so many lists of memories, and also, the original Safekeeping letter, and that’s weird. But! I found two of my favourite necklaces, and some lipgloss. Kickass.

Add to that my pipes, a tiara, a copy of 6000 word version of ‘Intimacy’ that I thought I’d lost (you can read the 3000 word version in four parts on Swinney if you haven’t already (and you’re into extended short semi-fictional stories’o angst). I discovered a huge big box’o mixed stuff, so I’m retrieving stuff I want from it, throwing some things out and putting everything that I can’t be bothered dealing with for now back in it. Is it normal to get enthusiastic about cleaning your room only at 1am?

Hmmm, i just read through the 6000 word version and I’m not sure if I like it better or worse. It’s funny in reflection, cos when I wrote it at the start’o 2001, I got accused of just wanking on paper but then there’s things that have happened since then that reminded me at the time of the story, and it’s like I was writing my own foreshadowing – or my own wishlist, or whatever. Okay, I’m rambling. I’m going to install Wolfenstien 3D now cos i found the disk for it, even though I should go to bed with Murakami again. Night!

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