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, December 01, 2001

[Warning: the following post contains vitriol, swearing and academic, philosophical drivel. It's not too late to turn away.]

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the gene pool, the Illuminati show up. Not The, just the. They're not really anyone special, they just like to think they are. (Or maybe that's just what they want you to think.)

In any case, I was only amused until I read Prime Directive #6, which states: "No human may hold a superior position unless he or she has obtained degrees in physics and biology. This is because those whom are educated in these fields, posses a higher understanding of reality, and thus posses an advanced/developed mind. Education breeds education and enlightenment."

Fucking bigoted rationalist narrow-minded wankers! Maybe - in fact, definitely - I'm influenced by having just studied at some length the breakdown of the positivist rationalist (ie: scientific) frame of reference as a workable model, but that's a load of tripe. Let's go through a couple of basic points here. One: the Enlightenment Project - science making the world so much better, solving all our problems and making the world into a utopia - fucked up. It created the machine gun, the nuclear bomb, anthrax, etc. The Scientific Dream is a nightmare. Two: Anyone possessing sufficiently advanced studies in Physics would know that objectivity and certainty don't count for diddly-shit in Quantum Physics. In which field there are eight (last time I looked) proven, certain statements of reality, and none of them agree with each other. Three: Oh, just read Nietzsche, you ignorant sods. Or rather, read about Nietzsche. I wouldn't want your heads to explode before you'd learned the point.

Just as a brief concluding, gleeful dance: Maybe if you looked outside your tiny, rationalist box you'd learn how to use English properly. Good fucking grief. The language in this and the rest of the 'Prime Directives' is sodding awful. Grammar is obviously of no use to the Master Bloody Race.

Finally: No human may, hmm? So aliens are exempt? (Yes indeed, there it is, down at #17.) What about carrots then? I have a very intelligent stuffed tiger.

12:03 PM - link to this - (0) comments

"If I were a character in The Lord of the Rings, I would be Eowyn, Woman of Rohan, niece of King Theoden and sister of Eomer."

Hey, I could have told them that before I took the survey. Eowyn might just be my favourite. If I have a favourite. She's an excellent character, the original warrior chick. And she's in some of the best scenes in the books. The scenes that make me pause and think: Well, maybe Tolkien can write after all, if he puts his mind to it.

Take the test yourself. Link courtesy of Mallory.

7:15 AM - link to this - (0) comments

Friday, November 30, 2001

Dude. Couples. The practically married kind. Fucking scary.

People who are never seen one without the other. Who live together, or so close that you just know his shirt, her bra and a pair of shoes they both wear on occasions are all tangled up together. Who have some sort of alien domestic bliss. Who have conversations driving along about shopping and family bureaucratic problems and the road conditions. People who are going to end up in the suburbs in normalcy.

A person who used to be a friend, maybe not a terribly good one, but something unique and apart, and probably still is one, but I'm friends with him, not with both of them.

I can't quite put my finger on it.

Fucking scary.

10:00 PM - link to this - (0) comments

In my next life, I'd like to come back as the Funk Soul Reindeer. All it does is sit on top of my stereo. Mostly looking at me. Sometimes looking somewhere else. Its head is suspended on a little hook inside its neck, so that its head can bob slightly in the breeze, or a lot when someone gives it a donk on the nose. It has big, liquid brown eyes and a dent in its nose where someone tried to shove its head through a cardboard box. It's going a little threadbare in patches, and it only belongs to me by right of possession, since I nicked it from the rubbish stash after last year's summer cleanout. It's cheap, tacky, almost kitsch, but it doesn't have to do anything but sit on top of my stereo, nod, and occasionally get terrorised by the entirety of the Croquet Club on a cheap Scotch bender.

I could handle a life like that.

("Do you believe in reincarnation?"
"I'm not sure I believe in incarnation."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"How the fuck should I know? Go away, you're ruining my inscrutable vibe.")

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

bleh
i dont even have the energy to capitalise or punctuate
arent i a bad dee

4:46 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Thursday, November 29, 2001

Fear me, you lord and lady preachers;
I descend upon your earth from the skies.
I command your very souls, you unbelievers.
Bring before me what is mine!
(Queen, "Seven Seas of Rhye")

Because one can't quote too many song lyrics, yanno. Especially good ones, random ones, ones that aren't about love and getting it or losing it or wanting it or hating it. Why aren't there more random songs? And I don't mean random in that pretentious At The Drive-In way, where they just dribble random crap in an attempt to sound meaningful and symbolic and bollocks. We need more random lyrics. More fun lyrics. More songs like Faith No More's "We Care A Lot". And there needs to be good music stapled to the good words. Nice bass and some complicated melodies that just make intrinsic sense. Everything should be a little bit more like Muse.

And while you're at in, can you get me a Mars Bar? I'm having a craving.

8:39 PM - link to this - (0) comments

How to have fun with eavesdropping sales assistants:
"Is this bag big enough?"
"I don't know. Think it'll fit my purse and a handgun?"

Meanwhile, current cleaning 'gratuities' fund at $4.95 (enough for a Happy Meal with extra Happy), a pen and a coconut. There was briefly a copy of Alan Ball's "Politics and Government", but it seems to have been unhappy with this world, and ended it all by jumping out the window.

I used my own weight in tissues today. Just call me Sneezy.

5:00 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Wednesday, November 28, 2001

So they tell me I get a free standard drink as staff drinks at the bar. (Just they, not They, because why would the CIA/NSA/Illuminati or other shadowy figure of your paranoid delusional choice want to inform me that I could imbibe alcohol without monetary outlay? Actually, don't answer that. No... do.)

In any case, free drink. One. Per night. But only after I'm finished, because we're not allowed to drink while working. I'm contemplating working my way through the beers one at a time, just so that I can become some sort of connoisseur. A connoisseur of something I don't drink, but hey, it'll impress guys. Or something. Right? I'll be able to tell them beer's awful with real authority. As opposed to the mock-authority I clothe myself in presently.

11:14 PM - link to this - (0) comments

As I look out my window towards the college next door, there is one light on in the entire building. It is in the kitchen on the second floor. There is a naked man in there.

Well, this is a first.

8:54 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Typical room-cleaning schedule:
1. Enter room, replete with cleaning gear - vacuum, duster, bucket, etc.
2. Wander vaguely around room, sort of not quite poking around the edges of your cleaning job.
3. Comment on the messiness/cleanliness of the room. Ask whose room it is.
4. Argue about whose room it is. Look for graffiti to verify. Check phone messages. Laugh at them.
4a. Would you believe someone has five videos that are 50 days overdue? 50 days! And one of them's Notting Hill. How embarrassing is that?
5. Upon deciding the room belonged to X, proceed to bitch about X for ten minutes. It doesn't have to be true, either; libel is our middle name.
6. Boss walks past. Actually get on with cleaning.

4:37 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Today lunch was tacos (blerk) and the milk was strawberry (double blerk). We are not amused.

And work was long and the legs are sore.

4:09 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Tuesday, November 27, 2001

"I was talking to preachy-preach about kissy-kiss.
You buy me a soda.
You buy me a soda.
You buy me a soda and try to molest me in the parking lot;
Yep. Yep, yep, yep."

(The Pixies are weird.)

8:04 PM - link to this - (0) comments

The maintenance boys are working across the hall, and their radio is playing one of those songs by Powderfinger that sounds exactly like all of those other songs by Powderfinger. It might not even be Powderfinger, just some band playing a song that sounds like all those Powderfinger songs that sound alike. You know the ones; mellow, sugared crap.

2:41 PM - link to this - (0) comments

I think I'm allergic to getting up. Shortly after I get up, I always seem to sneeze at least fourteen times. I thought it was just hayfever, because the other day I was working outside first thing in the morning, but I haven't really gone outside today. Then I thought I was allergic to mornings; not a bad surmise, I thought. However, I went back to bed this morning, and when I got up at lunch time, I did the same thing. So it must be an allergy to getting up. Either I'm never going back to bed, or I'm never going to get up ever again. Or maybe I should sleep standing up.

I just love days off, don't you?

1:53 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Monday, November 26, 2001

Oooh, Kittie's got a new album. Even though I missed them in concert, and am still kicking myself for it, there is yet more Canadian-teeny-screaming-angst-rawk goodness for me! I crave!

6:51 PM - link to this - (0) comments

We're eating at the college two doors down for the week, while they manhandle the floor in our dining hall. Personally I don't see why we can't just go through the servery, and eat outside. Most people do in summer anyway. However, gaily - yea verily and saucily also - we saunter down the street (or rather, we cut through the college in between, making rude gestures at the rosebushes) and enter, wide-eyed, the foreign domain.

Of course, we're all desperate to find something, anything, everything wrong with the food, just to reassure ourselves of our own superiority. Food looks beautiful, tastes adequate, but there isn't much variety, and aren't the serving staff unpleasant. We miss Jo. Jo's lovely. Jo mothers everyone. But there's chocolate milk here, on tap, and it's really good if you get a coffee from their machine (weak and watery, even more so than ours) and add it. The toasters look like alien contraptions. But the real killer is that breakfast only goes from 7:45 until 8:45 sharp. Unlike our own long haul of 7 til 9:30. I imagine that's a real bitch if you've got an 8 o'clock lecture.

But the chocolate milk's nice.

6:39 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Sunday, November 25, 2001

Sometimes antisocial is just so much easier.

10:38 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Experiments with answering machine messages #1: The Passive Machine

"Apologies are offered; this phone is unable to be answered at the present time. Messages detailing caller, time and return number may be left, and at a later date they will be returned. The beep should be waited for."

3:23 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Last night I considered 'Zen Blogging'. This means that I would blog what feels right. I would get in touch with my inner blogger, and let the spirit guide me. The blog content would be mystical, spiritual and probably smell nice too. And have good Feng Shui.

There would probably not be much of a discernible difference. However, I could claim that anyone who complained just wasn't enlightened enough to understand. And order them to go align their chakras, or something.

Besides, isn't everything better when it's Zen? Everything we do should be Zen. Zen typing, and Zen coffee-drinking, and Zen nappy-changing. I'm going to go and have a Zen shower.

1:53 PM - link to this - (0) comments