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, May 26, 2001

The joy of a restaurant that covers the table with butchers' paper is that you can play Mr Squiggle's Doodle and Hangman while waiting for your meal.

I discovered the only way to get thrown out of a game of Mr Squiggle. Turn the Union Jack into the Australian Flag. But I got allowed back in because I turned a random doodle into the Bat Signal.

And the perfect word for Hangman is "quaff". Try it.

11:53 PM - link to this - (0) comments

See, the dear delightful Rob talking about smoking and computers makes me think about a story A tells about one of the stars of his early college years. Perhaps it was Sevo. Perhaps another character of whom I have heard so much that to actually meet him would be an anti-climax. This character, however, smoked cigarettes he rolled himself. He also played Mechwarrior. Anyone who has performed either of these two functions will know that they are both activities which require use of all ten digits. Somehow, however, this tremendously gifted individual managed to do both at once. He rolled his cigarette while playing Mechwarrior.

When asked how, he replied: "Too much practice at both."

I love college.

11:41 PM - link to this - (0) comments

This is one of the funniest things I've seen in a while. Go on, let Our Lady of the Internet read your mind. You won't believe how accurate she is! (I'm a little ashamed that it took me two tries to figure this out. Then again, I was doing stuff in other windows at the same time.)

12:18 PM - link to this - (0) comments

If you were going to start a webring, what would your criteria for acceptance/inclusion/interest be?

I got thinking about this because I've been vaguely wandering the net for the past two days, looking for a ring (or two, or three) to join. I don't just join willy-nilly, though. I need it to be something that I feel a connection with. Something that defines me. Something that makes me... well, makes me want to join. And not just the requirements and theme and things, but the name as well. I hate these poncy, flouncy, airy-fairy names. At the same time, I'm very picky about the technical details. I want to be able to surf the ring easily, for all the pages to have the code up and working. For all the pages to be good; sites I want to be linked to.

I mean, there are some rings you just join. Like the dotcom ring. Like the webloggers ring. But for the rest, I'm the pickiest eater alive.

Of course, the temptation when you can't find a ring exactly right is to make one. But then it's exactly right for you, and no one else. So now I am pondering the ultimate challenge. To make a ring that is exactly right for those you want it to be exactly right for.

This bears thinking about. I am long past the age where I rushed into anything and everything. (As a side note, the first webring I ever created in a fit of pique - Bared - is still running very strong. This gives me something of a nice, warm feeling.) Maybe I will begin something. But it needs to simmer a little first.

12:02 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Friday, May 25, 2001

While I'm at this ranting and raving in a random fashion (like I ever do anything in a non-random fashion)...

Damn. J2 just rang me (the fourth external phone call I've had today, not including birthday ones - why is everyone suddenly seized by the desire to telephonically communicate with me? I hate phones, people!) and completely derailed my train of thought.

Or maybe I should blame Zack de la Rocha, who's screaming about American dreams again. That boy really has a one-track mind.

3:29 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Why do people think removing the vowels from swearwords makes them more acceptable? I don't get it. How is "b!tch" supposed to be less offensive (to those who find it so) than "bitch". If you want to say it, come out and say it. Swear, dammit. Don't just play pretend.

3:12 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday dear Dee-eee...
Happy Birthday to me.

Maybe that's narcissistic and crap, but I'm feeling all little-kid-bouncy today, and I felt like doing it anyway. And now I can drink in the United States as well.

7:21 AM - link to this - (0) comments

Thursday, May 24, 2001

Der-brain quote of the day: "What does your coffee-maker do?"

10:23 PM - link to this - (0) comments

I finally made a concerted effort to pin Dr Mac down, worried that if I left it any longer he would forget about me and I would no longer have an Honours supervisor for next year. So I rang and left a message that I would be there between 3 and 4. Upon reaching his office, I found a note to myself, advising that he would be back at 3:45. I wandered out to Union Court and sat, buffetted by the wind, my fingers freezing as I wrote in my journal and thought the sort of random thoughts one thinks on a cold, quiet autumn afternoon.

When I came back I was loitering at the top of the stairs when one of my other lecturers came past and hailed me. We chatted a little, and I mentioned why I was loitering. At which point Dr Mac came up the stairs. He was carrying one of those square boxes of wired geraniums. Or rather, he was holding it at arms' length as if he was afraid it would bite him.

"This is what you get when you give a presentation to a bunch of admirals' wives," he says with his usual bluntness. You either love Dr Mac or hate him.

"It's very pretty," my lecturer comments.

Dr Mac grunts, and we all laugh. I feel briefly as if I'm in a sitcom. We meander along to Mac's office and I cut to the chase, saying that I'm basically there to let him know that I'm still interested in being Honoured, if he's still interested in supervising. He says he is, puts my name on the official card that is held to his filing cabinet (extensive) with magnets. I cheer inwardly.

We move on. What I'm studying. Whether I should do International Law even if I was allowed to (which I'm not). He bags out the law faculty in an amusing fashion. (His bluntness is his most defining personality trait. He has a sticker on his filing cabinet that reads: "Fuck Authority". I like this man.) We move on to talking about Thirteen Days, which he also though represented the themes well, though he is not a big fan of anything that glorifies the Kennedies.

We end laughing about Kevin Costner, and I trip lightly out of there. I have an Honours supervisor. WooHOO!

7:42 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Philosophical question of the day: if a slut wears pale pink and pretty little-girl bows and looks all innocent, is she still a slut?

(Oh dear, and the exam period is still two weeks away. I'm going to be barking at parked cars by the end of this semester.)

11:50 AM - link to this - (0) comments

Canonisation is like a little gold star next to your name in the roll-call of God.

10:46 AM - link to this - (0) comments

Wednesday, May 23, 2001

Listening to Alanis Morissette (yes, I am up to M in my alphabetical CD-listening) regresses me. Well, not really regression. I never was an angry teen. I was an angry pre-teen, but I got over it by the time I hit 13. But yowling along to Alanis makes me feel like I was, and I still am. The sort of music that makes you mosh around the room, shake your hair, bounce on your bed, throw your stuffed animals. This is, no doubt, why almost every girl of a certain age owns it. It calls to us. Even if we were never there.

9:32 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Today, to plain sight, I accomplished nothing.

I role-played all day. All glorious, imaginative day. You can't understand it unless you do it. It was like living free. Like flying. (And every time the damn make-shift connection I'm forced to use due to the IT staff's incompetence went down, it was like being yanked back to earth. It made me scream like a harpy.)

It really is the crack cocaine of writing. It's the immediate hit. The fast and sure thing. Like caffeine straight into the vein. I'm still popping.

The RP logs section has been redesigned and updated, if you care.

9:12 PM - link to this - (0) comments

If there is one thing above all others that annoys me in a netball game, it's people questioning my team placement. Right, there are these rules, and only having one guy in each third of the court. I know these rules. I've been working with these rules for the past two seasons. They're damn annoying.

But there's always someone who thinks they know better. Like the stupid girl playing opposite me last night. It was an ADFA team, so I don't expect too much in the way of mental faculties. But honestly. When I load up my monster defense team (A in GD and KL in WD, if you care), she goes and complains to the umpire. Who tells her no, it's fine, they can do that. So she comes sulking back, and has a whinge.

So I explain it to her. He is in this third, he is in that third, it is legal. She declares it isn't. I explain it using smaller words. She declares it isn't. So, finally, I simply say: "Look, sweetheart, I've been doing this for two year. I think I know what I'm doing, all right?"

She didn't speak to me for the rest of the game. What a loss.

10:51 AM - link to this - (0) comments

Monday, May 21, 2001

On top of my monitor crouches a soft-toy frog. It has unnaturally long and bendy legs. It is currently up on its toes. His name is Jeremiah. Because Jeremiah was, as you may or may not know, a bull-frog. And he was a good friend of mine. When L gave me this particular incarnation of Jeremiah, he was wrapped around a small bottle of mighty fine wine, which we helped him drink. Actually, he wasn't very good at the drinking part, being a stuffed animal and all, so we drank it ourselves.

Singing: "Joy to the world, all the boys and girls. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. Joy to you and me."

8:07 PM - link to this - (0) comments

All right! New carp design up and coming atcha. Probably looks bad in Netscape. I don't care. I really don't. I love this redesign, and intend to keep it for a goodly long while. Let me know what you think (even if it's just to confirm that it looks like a cat's breakfast in Netscape). Please? I'll love you forever, or something. Yeah.

9:50 AM - link to this - (0) comments

Oh wow. I can FTP again. Blinding, overwhelming, comprehensive redesigns of absolutely everything coming up. But for now, the fanfic section has been redesigned and updated. Finally. Spiffy new design, even if I do say so myself. Wait until you see the rest of everything.

(Incidentally, I can FTP via this insanely brilliant application. I might just bow down and worship both the people who made this and the absolutely brilliant person who sent me a link to it.)

8:46 AM - link to this - (0) comments

Sunday, May 20, 2001

The other day I was reading the newspaper at breakfast when I came across a man whose surname was Beretta. "Oh my god!" I exclaimed. "I have to find this man and marry him. Immediately!"

Everyone else failed to understand.

11:34 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Have you ever before come across a file that simply will not download? I search, find the same file in a dozen different locations, but the download dialogue box simply sits there, flipping its little bit of paper, and going nowhere at the speed of light.

Bloody annoying.

Meanwhile, I like this place. Lots of fun fonts. Including what I am assuming is the original home of the ever-loved-by-J2 'Creepy Girl'.

10:31 PM - link to this - (0) comments

So many things boiling inside me. So many tracks ahead of me.

I have a pile of books that is now the height of my bed. The Plague (Camus, and current), The Proof House (KJ Parker), Lost Souls (Poppy Z Brite), Dune (Frank Herbert), Makers of Modern Strategy (various, and work, and yet not), and Foucault's Pendulum (Umberto Eco, and yes, a re-read, but lately I have found myself plagued with references, with hints, with half-remembered glimpses of the shrouded truth, and I want to recapture the throat-tightening beauty of the faint despair and intricate tragedy that was this book).

I have a novel, lurking around my room in densely-typed pages and scribbled notes on the back of desk-calendar pages. Around my mind in the tilt of a chin and a line curtly delivered. I have the urge to write, to get it all out, to shape the words like raw clay into a vessel that can hold my imagination in tangible form.

I have idleness, pulling at me with sticky fingers, offering a horde of delights. Roleplay, the crack-cocaine of writing, computer games, long, luxuriant coffee and Friday-conversations in Cafe Je.

And I have university. Demanding with its financial justification my attention, my time, my efforts. And yet still interesting. Fascinating. Ready to suck me into a whirlpool of academia. Spending the rest of my life balancing in the compator shelves, fuelled by university-cafe coffee and this inexplicable curiosity about things no one else cares about. An office, lined with the books picked up on my travels (three more garnered today at the Co-op book sales, where everything was two dollars - one on prophecy, one on eastern European post-war communism, one on the trial of Queen Caroline). As you can see, I have thought overmuch about this possibility.

I want... I want... I want...

I don't know what I want. And in six months I finish my degree. I never wanted to think about this day because it was four (three... two... one...) years away and honestly, things would sort themselves out by that time, right? You'd think I knew myself better. But here I am, five days short of 21, and wallowing in indecision.

You know what? I wouldn't have it any other way.

10:05 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Has anyone else noticed that when you finish FreeCell, that King looks really, really smug?

Just me? Ah.

I just went to see The Breakfast Club. Yes, for the first time. It was really quite a good movie. Very stage. Not really what I was expecting at all. As I remarked to Je, it was like a teenage version of a hostage situation. Let's get five different personalities and twist until they go snap. And then watch. For the record, that could have been my high school, and I fit somewhere between the nerd and the weird girl. I so empathised with Johnson when he was talking about getting an F. Been there. Felt it. Sooooo happy to be out of it.

I could have lived without the folks two rows behind us psycho-analysing everything, though.

12:47 AM - link to this - (0) comments