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Showing posts from May, 2013

Day 151: Adventures in Wonderland

I have been remiss in my storytelling duties in a number of ways in the last day. Well, firstly look at the time. It's tomorrow and I haven't done today's blog yet. I'm loving this early morning thing—it's a six forty-five kind of a start this morning, the sun already up, but this can't be relied on and is technically late and keeping you waiting. Secondly, no cocktail photo. What! Don't be a hundred percent alarmed, there were cocktails. It's just—and don't mistake this for a complaint—they were all in plastic glasses due to being purchased water-side in the pool bar, and didn't look picturesque. I was hanging out for the 'pretty' one, but then I didn't feel like any more. I promise to take photos of all of them today and then at least we have something. Beauty is in the eye, etc, etc, and it is not for me to judge if you will like the picture of the cocktail or not on the basis of its plastic glass. But the most serious breach o…

Day 150: Watching the Dawn

Wonderful things, like lotuses, often come from not such fabulous circumstances. Because I worked night shift, had half an hour sleep, took Lollii down to the coast for her hols, slept two more hours, flew to Thailand with a four or five hour extremely broken sleep, made it to the hotel, walked around this new-to-us beach area of Nai Yang and had a swim (so, in other words, slept about ten hours in fifty), I ended up with the most intense migraine. I then slept all last night from about seven and it means that now, at five a.m, I am out on my balcony watching Phuket Island wake up. Watching and listening. It is a cacophony out here with all the birds and insects waking with the light. And, despite slathering myself in stinky stuff and still being mossie-bit fifteen times already, it is stunning. I don't get to see this time of the day that often—not this side of sleeping at any rate.

List_Addict               Irene
There hasn't been a great chance to explore the pla…

Day 149: Lost in a Sea of Glass and Tin

'Step up and play, each machine seemed to say, as I walked round and round the penny arcade.' Ahhhhhhh! Cannot get it out of my head. Is it karma because I dobbed it in, as ammunition against the boy, to a friend at work who he was harassing with 'Motor Finance Wizard says yes' and 'My little red quote' and 'Boojay, Boojay ... Budget love, Budget'? Probably. These things have the potential to not end well. In order to try and loosen its hold on your brain, you need to come up with more and more nocuous options as usurpers. Until you end up with the theme some to Gilligan's Island or Eidelweiss in there instead, along with the wish that you never started trying to stop the original song in the first place. 'Just ring the bell on the big bagatelle, and you'll make all the coloured lights cascade.' Thanks Roy!

Irene               List_Addict
I finished reading DH Lawrence's Aaron's Rod last night. Once the stalwart of academia, …

Day 148: Mad Cow

My dad just asked me if I was going to bring him home a tie from Thailand. It's a dad thing, isn't it? But I did, in my post twenty-minutes-sleep-since-yesterday stupor, think he meant a Thai. It didn't make sense that he didn't work any more and so didn't need one. Now I understand, and maybe a tie with a polo shirt isn't that good a look.

The blood bank try quite hard to guilt you/scare you into donating blood. I am happy to hand it over (and was even amused to read the other day that donating is a good way to reduce excess iron in your blood--just give it to someone else to dilute with theirs), but they have all these fussy rules about tattoos and communicable diseases and having lived in the United Kingdom for more than a week and a half in the early nineties. I don't have a communicable disease. Surely, after all this time, they would have found a way to find out if you have mad cow disease from living in the UK. One of the most ironic moments of …

Day 147: They're Listening ...

My Blogger account won't let me into itself on one of the computers at work. My partly paranoid mind thinks that is because I stated on here the other day that I had started reading a book called Play to Kill. That book is about hackers. You see where I am going? They think I am in cahoots. They think I am a hacker. They have no idea that I have no idea what I am doing on a computer—which is probably why I can't make the other computer work. Let me really jeopardise all my computer access opportunities by saying I always did wish I could be a covert operative. For the other side. A good other side. Like the French Foreign Legion perhaps. If you are a covert operative for the same side it seems too much like spying. And plus, here in Oz, it means you have to live in Canberra. And Canberra is a too cold, too hot, hole in the ground, too far from the sea. Is that too harsh? And now I see on the news that the building plans for the corporation of covert operative's new headqu…

Day 146: Exuberance is Beauty—William Blake, Poet

Most eyelashes are better than mine. I'm okay with it. That is just the way it is. I envy amazing ones; I'm only human. I got extentions once—in Mexico City; I don't think they were the best and I really should try it here at home (although I know it will cost a whole lot more). Three times (last week) I wore falsies. One day in particular I wore them for about twelve hours and they made me want to rub my eyelids off. But today I saw what is arguably the best set of eyelashes I have ever seen in my entire life. Ever. On a secretary bird (Sagittarius Serpentarius). Have a look here—sensational. And here. And that hair-do is quite enviable too. Before today I had never heard of a secretary bird. They're bizarre. Basically a bird-of-prey on stilts. And their weapon of choice is a fast and furious stomping motion. Until you are dead beyond a doubt. And then a couple of more stomps. When you see this in action (it would be on You-Tube somewhere) it is hard to discern …

Day 145: Maybe We Can Eventually Make Language a Complete Impediment to Understanding

For my Mother ....

After a conversation regarding an unfortunate bicycle accident and its consequential twelve point solution to a contraceptive issue, my mother verbed her noun, and then dared me to use it here. This is the dare. This is the word: vasectomise. We brainstormed other ways to use it beside the obvious. For example, can you vasectomise the streets around you in order to have a street party? My theory is that if you can't do the real thing for a party (in your pants), only to open everything up again the next day to normal traffic, then you can't do it for the street party either. The 'street' analogy only works for the sort of street they close permanently, like, for example, when they build a freeway and the street that used to go that way doesn't make it to being an exit. It gets vasectomised.

Irene               List_Addict
'Ways of thinking' have a great potential to be vasectomised as well. As an example: 'I used to think tha…

Day 144: Eat Like a Caveman; Run Like a Caveman

Most people will be glad to hear that I finished Primal Body, Primal Mind today—all about a further stretching of, and scientific look at, the Paleo Diet. S—— will be happy because she (finally) gets her book back. If I can give you one piece of advice, it would be this: do not lend me a book. I just randomly picked up a book at work today and started reading it. It's not like I don't already have a million books on the go (see here and then take away Primal Body, Primal Mind, and add Play to Kill by PJ Tracy (a mother and daughter writing team?)). So lending me a book means your book is one of many and will not come back to you in the normal time it takes to read a book. I even made an exception with this one and prioritised reading of it above others. It was still a slow return. Everyone else will be relieved because, hopefully, conversations with me will no longer have wildly disconnected references to this book. No more conversations about cricket (coz I have lots of thos…

Day 143: A Smaller Suitcase

A beautiful electric blue Samsonite B'Lite Fresh found its way into my life today, courtesy of the seemingly bottom-less pocketed boy (I do know those pockets do have bottoms, despite all evidence against). In the past I have restricted the size of my bags in order to control the amount of stuff I take away with me. You know how it is—have bag, will fill. I am a little nervous of what I will take with me. For example, there is now no excuse as to taking my very large and voluminous kaftan to Thailand, just because I can. I could probably take the skates I wore with them here too! Don't get me wrong. I love it. And it will mean I can go to the States later in the year with an empty bag and come back with a full one, with only another three parcels sent back with newly thrifted items instead of four. What is does seem to highlight for me though, is a lack of naturally occuring self-control.

List_Addict               Irene
I have more shoes than fit on a shelf, more clothes t…

Day 142: On The Selfie and Its Influence

I often see bloggers lamenting, praising, cursing or extolling the selfie. More on the negative though? No? I myself am a little over the selfie. If I have to be honest with myself. But instead of taking that cavelier and calm approach to this fact, I used a very broken night of sleep (Lollii has re-discovered the winter joy of being under the blankets, but insists on going in and out about three million times a night; she is incapable of doing that herself though and so face-stares me from a millimeter away until I wake up and let her in—if puppy-murder didn't leave you bereft without your puppy, I may have looked into it last night (not really)) as an excuse to completely melt down at my poor photographer-de-jour (good one, meltdown about selfies on a day when you don't have to do one) about how depressed I am about selfies and taking them in the kitchen with its horrible black wire (I took three in there!). Okay, it wasn't my most rational moment. The poor boy ended u…

Day 141: My Name is Charlie, And I Am a Book Addict

Today was meant to be my first participation in the Literary Junkies Book Club Twitter party to discuss this month's book Diamond in the Rough: A Memoir, by Shawn Colvin. I don't know what happened. It was a combination of coming off night shift, time-differences and the lack of energy to work them out, and, most importantly, two little things about the book itself. One: I didn't finish it in time. Two: I wasn't sure I had anything to say about it. Confession: I'm not a fan of memoirs. Confession: I was thinking book club would be like being at Uni, when really, I imagine, it's simply a chance for people to get to know each other and have a chat about a book that they may not normally have read. It doesn't have to be backed by theorists and foot-noted—even though there is nothing I like more than taking theorists out for a run to see what they can do. I tried to have a look at what happened on the Twitter party, but as usual I am a Twitter twit and can&…