dee - viscerate.com

GIRL
Diana Evans
called Dee
since May 25th, 1980
terrorising inner-city Melbourne
consuming flat whites
producing words, hers and other people's
contact dee [at] viscerate [dot] com

SITE
viscerate.com
consisting of personal reflections
photography by Amy Q
archives here

Saturday, August 19, 2000

I was wondering why everyone likes blaming their parents so much. (As in: I wasn't hugged/was hugged too much/wasn't changed enough/was burped too often/was forced to watch the Teletubbies hence I am now gay/repressed/anti-social/a Lee-Ann Rimes fan/serving fifteen years in a maximum security institution.) Then the answer occured to me (hit me out of the blue, must be a part of the Plan). If we blame our parents for poor parenting, then they must have stuffed up because of their own problems. Which must, in turn, be blamed on their parents. Onwards it goes, and ever upwards, until you end up blaming God (or creationist entity of your choice, yea verily even unto evolutionism). And that's what everyone wanted to do all along, isn't it?

7:14 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Dee's Heartfelt Plea to the Blogging World:
Please, please, please if you're going to use permalinks, put in the A NAME code, since without it, your permalinks are just so much HTML flotsam on the rising tide of my wrath DON'T WORK!!

And while you're at it, please keep your blog page to a reasonable length. Depending on how much and how long you blog, of course, this may vary, but keep it reasonable.

Just, please, trust me on the permalinks.

6:41 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Sitting around all afternoon attempting to finish Foucault's Pendulum (DAMN, it's getting good!) and listening to the pathetically crap band playing at the after-Ball recovery at the college next door, I have formulated the following edict:

Come the RevolutionTM:
  1. Bands will need a Certificate of Competance before being permitted to even attempt to play Beastie Boys.
  2. Males attempting to sing the female parts in dance songs (ala Bust a Move) or any song by the Bangles will have their testicles removed in an effort to improve their performance. (Yes, this goes for you too, Human Nature.)
  3. The Constitution will state firmly that the lead guitar must always be turned up louder than the bass.
  4. Fuckwits in utes will be shot on sight. (For Americans and other non-Australians, a ute is a 'utility vehicle' corresponding roughly to an American truck, I think. Basically, it is what Aussie farmers (usually of sheep) use to get around their properties. It has a cabin, usually seating two, occasionall (and pretentiously) seating four or five and a tray on the back, in which you usually put hay and your compliant children. People driving them anywhere with a population of more than 20 are redneck hicks and have an annoying tendency to perform donuts on any available grassed area, especially in the middle of the night.)

6:25 PM - link to this - (0) comments

I'd like everyone to take a moment to ponder the sheer lucridity of using a remote control in a room that is barely two metres by three.

PS: And yet I use it. Admittedly only when I'm in bed and want to turn the stereo off, but still... Do you think I can possibly stretch this point from a glaring indication of my own laziness to a vituperous denunciation of today's society?

Nah, probably not.

5:01 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Just for Shauna:
There was a young sailor named Bates
Who danced the fandango on skates.
But a fall on his cutlass
Has rendered him nutless
And practically useless on dates.

11:26 AM - link to this - (0) comments

Friday, August 18, 2000

Feminists make my teeth ache. The whinging, the refusal to take responsibility for themselves and their actions. Fuck Andrea Dworkin, because I have rarely heard of anyone with a more narrow-minded and, frankly, insane point of view. I could rant for ages about this, but I'll confine myself to one small piece alone. Starting with a question:

Situation A: You enjoy having sex and you need money, so you prostitute yourself. Situation B: You hate practicing law, but you need the money, so you work as a lawyer. Which is worse, A or B?

The argument is that prostitution is abuse and/or oppression of women because it's forcing them into a submissive role, and forcing them to do so against their will. But honestly, women (and men too) work every day in millions of jobs that they hate simply because they need the money. Are rabid feminists planning on eliminating all of this? No one has to work if they don't want to! Uh-huh, and as R would say: "Due to improvements in the pressurisation of airline baggage compartments, pigs can and do fly."

Women are oppressed everyday. So are men. Everything is not an example of the patriachy. Feminists are merely conspiracy theorists who have garnered far too much popular legitimacy. And as with all conspiracies, if you think you will see signs of Them, then you will, anywhere and everywhere you go.

Conclusion: IASBM

5:38 PM - link to this - (0) comments

More fun with dictionaries: While searching for the correct spelling of "conscion" (which I couldn't find anywhere, and in fact everyone bar Je denied having ever heard before - it was eventually found as part of the much more commonly used "unconscionable") I came across the delightfully saucy "concupiscence", which apparently means ardent or illicit sexual desire. Ooooh-errr!
Search: concupiscence
Results: What the Catholic Encyclopedia has to say on the matter: "But the lower appetite is of itself unrestrained, so as to pursue sensuous gratifications independently of the understanding and without regard to the good of the higher faculties." Sounds like fun to me!

5:21 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Thursday, August 17, 2000

I awoke this morning and stumbled forth to greet the world with a tired mumble. Great was my confusion, yea, and loud also, as I entered an almost pitch-black corridor and shouted: "What the fuck is going on??" For lo, the lights had been covered with cellophane of vermillion and azure hue. I was now residing in my floor's "Red Light District"! As I wended my merry way to the conveniences, I nearly concussed myself on a cardboard star dangling gaily from the ceiling. Long and inventive was my swearing.

Upon completing my business, however, I was in greater cheer, for I had remembered that tonight was the 3B SIGN, that most hallowed and venerable of floor parties (not like the sodding upstart contraptions of the other floors), and 'twas for this reason that the corridors were thusly bespangled.

So that's where I'm going to be tonight. Cheers!

7:25 PM - link to this - (0) comments

And here was me going to write a long entry to make up for my overwhelming silence, but I have just been reminded that I have drinkies to attend now, so you will all have to possess your souls in patience, won't you? Mwah, ciao.

5:02 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Tuesday, August 15, 2000

Excuse me while I am ebulliant. WE WON NETBALL! (for the first time ever... and it's the last game of the season... but anyway...)

10:04 PM - link to this - (0) comments

But not tonight, boys and girls. Not tonight...

6:29 PM - link to this - (0) comments

I spent some time today reading my archives. I need more extraneous and insane bumpf. I've become so staid. *gasp*

5:34 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Every day friends send me those amusing little jokes that are perpetually floating about the internet. They all go into a folder called "Wossnames" (1 point). Occasionally one of them genuinely amuses me (usually when I can't see the punchline coming from a mile away). Here is one such:

Two nuns, Sister Marilyn and Sister Helen, are travelling through Europe in their car. They get to Transylvania and are stopped at a traffic light. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a diminutive Dracula jumps onto the hood of the car and hisses at them, through the windscreen.
"Quick, quick!" shouts Sister Marilyn. "What shall we do?"
"Turn the windscreen wipers on. That will get rid of the abomination," says Sister Helen.
Sister Marilyn switches them on, knocking Dracula about, but he clings on and continues hissing at the nuns. "What shall I do now?" she shouts.
"Switch on the windscreen washer. I filled it up with Holy Water in the Vatican," says Sister Helen.
Sister Marilyn turns on the windscreen washer. Dracula screams as the water burns his skin, but he clings on and continues
hissing at the nuns.
"Now what?" shouts Sister Marilyn, as Dracula hangs on.
"Show him your cross," says Sister Helen.
"Now you're talking," says Sister Marilyn as she opens the window and shouts: "Get the fuck off the car!!"

5:22 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Monday, August 14, 2000

Oh yes, you may have noticed that little link over there on the left. The one that says "goodbye". It is the project of a friend of mine who I admire, and who expressed a desire to have an anonymous journal project. Having gone for six months on the internet by the pseud of "x", I can perfectly understand the need for travelling incognito. This has been an announcement from the Ministry of Public Information.

6:30 PM - link to this - (0) comments

All dictionaries suck. Just thought I'd mention that. Usually I like mine - Merriam-Webster, funnily enough - but it doesn't have the word I want to know how to spell and that's just not on. Stupid book.

6:20 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Screamingly funny term of the day just overheard outside my door: "Der-brain"

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Thought for the day: Never underestimate the power of very stupid people in large groups.

(Received in one of those random collections of amusing little business lines like: "If you can stay calm, while all around you is chaos...then you probably haven't completely understood the seriousness of the situation." But this one is indeed so true.)

5:14 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Sunday, August 13, 2000

Aren't we very theosophical all of a sudden? It's the Eco that does it, of course. Once you start questioning the time-space continuum, it's only a matter of time before you start building a computer out of kettle and vacuum parts.

6:46 PM - link to this - (0) comments

3B thought of the day: Nothing is sacred to nihilists?

6:34 PM - link to this - (0) comments

"Maybe you were a Catholic in a past life." ~ Dee

6:09 PM - link to this - (0) comments

So it appears What's-her-face at alkalineshock is making another bid for Power Bloggers #1-dom. Only problem being her site isn't showing up. Not at all. For me, anyway. This is where I should be responsible and email her about it, right? Except, I can't see anything, even her email, and I don't feel like being responsible tonight. So there.

Oh wait, it's working now. ANOTHER redesign? That's two in the last two days, isn't it? Ye gods and little fishes...

PS: And there isn't enough room in her sidebar for her links. Damn I'm a bitch. :-)

5:47 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Happy birthday, Drew!

5:35 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Speaking of maternal instinct: About a year ago, in my search for the Conan the Barbarian game (of which I still haven't made it past the second quest - someone help me!) we came across something called Princess Maker. The point: raise the girl the gods have bestowed upon you from the age of 10 until 18. Send her to school, make her work, send her out adventuring, schmooze up to politicians... you can do it all. And then you see what sort of adult she becomes. It being an anime game and all, you can even make her work in a sleazy bar or strip joint, and she can become a concubine, or crime boss... or even an S&M queen!

My girls always turn into artsy types - writers, artists, dancers - usually get married but never have children. They have no maternal instinct, you see. Hah!

5:27 PM - link to this - (0) comments

People talk to babies the same way they talk to pets. And no, I didn't mean that the other way around.

I suppose it's just the similarity between beings that are intelligent, but probably aren't thinking on your wavelength, and definitely can't respond in an entirely intelligible fashion. At least cats can mostly look after themselves.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am the proud owner of 0% Maternal InstinctTM. Frankly, children just puzzle me. And people's responses to them puzzle me even more.

5:14 PM - link to this - (0) comments