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, February 16, 2002

It's not that I don't have anything to say, because lots of amusing and interesting things are currently happening around college, like the fact that there is no MTT (Mystery Twelfth Tutor) in college, and they seem to expect me to take up the pastoral side of it. Buh?

But in any case, the reason I'm not saying anything these days is sudden Advent of Boyfriend. Yes, the Male suddenly arrived. On Valentine's Day. Is the boy good or is the boy good?

So, until my time stops being divided almost exclusively between work and him, I'm afraid I won't be saying much here. In the meantime, listen to Rob Zombie. I will be. Rah.

9:44 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Thursday, February 14, 2002

Yanno, sometimes I feel like a bit of an unnecessary blogger. I don't really give lots of interesting/unusual links. Or many at all, actually. I don't write a journal, dredging the dregs of my soul onto the page. I haven't suffered, nor am I currently suffering, any sort of soul-destroying, life-altering, enlightenment-granting crisis from which I can bestow wisdom. I don't create infectious memes, nor even continue most of them. I don't have a cam, nor to I really belong to a blogger circle of any sort. I don't even display my interesting musical taste, like Melantha.

All I've got is random oddity, useless navel-gazing and the occasional swearword-riddled political rant. And hayfever.

12:39 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Wednesday, February 13, 2002

Dee ranteth politically. Take cover.

All right, so there's this stupid bint in The Australian today, writing about the prisoners in Camp X-Ray. (For those with their heads under rocks - I wish I was with you - Camp X-Ray is in Cuba, and is where the US is stashing their Afghani prisoners, in conditions that don't quite measure up to the Geneva Convention.) Now, this is an issue about which simply opening your mouth is a good way to get me to argue with you. The right-wing vigilante hardliners annoy me. The bleeding-heart humanitarians annoy me. But this silly woman practically made me froth with wrath right into my cornflakes. I simply can't believe she's missed the point so entirely.

To details. She was arguing that, from a legal and occasionally logical standpoint, these terrorist prisoners don't have any rights in general or under the Geneva convention. She trots out a lot of evidence (and even some 'evidence' - quotation marks indicating dubious nature) and she might even be right. I really don't give a shit. That's not the point.

The point is not whether they should be classed as true POWs because of the methods they use and intentions they have. The point is about laying any sort of claim to superiority, to the right to persecute anyone in some other part of the world. The United States makes those claims. It claims to be superior, to have the right to be the world's watchdog, its big brother, its protector. If it wants it, it bloody well has to act like it deserves it. That means not pouting, saying "They would have done it", hiding behind legalistic nitpickings of wording or trying to wangle their way out of their fucking responsibilities. Jesus. Grow up!

(Note, here, that I really don't give a flying fuck about human rights, about "building a better world" or any of that tripe. But on that note, the hypocrisy is mind-boggling. Listen, American wankers: when you start bleating about "human rights", you don't get to redefine 'human' to suit your purposes. After all, in mid-20th-century Germany, Jews weren't human, so who really gave a damn about their rights. Are we getting the fucking point yet??)

To round off this uber-rant, I'd like to pick on a few more of the twit's points. Specifically, her problems with sections 17 (under which prisoners are not allowed to be interrogated) and 118 (under which they are repatriated) of the Convention. Her issues with sections are precisely the same as the issues with them in any normal conflict. In any conflict, you'd like to interrogate your prisoners to find out what the enemy's intending. In any conflict, you don't want to let the soldiers go back to the armies they came from. But it's the rules of engagement and that's why there's a fucking Geneva Convention in the first place. You start violating it for "special cases" and pretty soon everything's a "special case" and why bother having the stupid document anyway.

Return to refrain: Grow up, America. Reconcile your role. You can't do precisely as you please and try to be the leader of the world. Either you accept your responsibilities, or you waive your rights. Every teenager in the world realises this eventually. It's time you did too.

4:57 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Tuesday, February 12, 2002

I have connection. In fact, I have full and complete connection. I have AIM, and FTP, and telnet, and a million and one other interesting things. I can download music at more than 1.5k/sec. I feel all-powerful. And "Spank My Booty" is playing. This is a sign. Oh yes it is.

It's a sign I need Meghan to come online so we can do a fanfic writing session, is what it is. Plus, it's a sign that you should message me right now. Yes, right now.

7:51 PM - link to this - (0) comments

When I grow up, I want to be a cam girl. This will require getting a webcam and having enough money to have it connected. Hah!

Plus, in other news, there are way too many attractive, interesting males out there. (Don't let this go to your head.)

7:01 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Most of the day spent writing "BC" on things, marking them as Burgmann property, resisting the impulse to start writing things like "Help! Help!" and "This pillow protector is the plaything of Satan".

I did this amidst piles of linen so tall they loomed. If they made a movie called "Dark Laundromat", it would look like that. And probably be directed by David Lynch, or maybe Terry Gilliam.

I blame the fumes from the permanent marker for all this. But ask yourself: How have I made the lives of others more random today?

1:43 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Monday, February 11, 2002

They're changing all the single beds, so after dinner, led by Ugg, we took to the common room, and built the world's biggest cubby, like a great big mattress house of cards. It had a tunnel leading from the cubby to the bar. There was a pile of mattresses for flipping onto. After many discussions on 'structural integrity' and a couple of cave-ins, we all giggled a lot, and settled down to watch Tank Girl. (We certainly built the television into the cubby. What do you think we are?) The staff showed up half-way through, and instead of telling us off like we thought they might, they came in and joined us.

I love living at college.

9:28 PM - link to this - (0) comments

The page was called How to write Darkly Gothic Poetry, but I think "Grab that thesaurus and rape it" is good advise for just about anything, really. Live by it.

PS: I wrote a darkly gothic poem. I think I could do better with five minutes violating a thesaurus, but I'm a sucker for these online thingy generators.

Alone in Darkness

the night falls without a sound, lost are we.
the salvation for which you sacrifice yourself
flares once, then dies,
smothered by a velvet ebon nothingness.
all hope must sicken and die.

your soul thrives no more.
how could you tear us asunder?
lost souls surround us, crying,
save us from ourselves.

5:05 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Sunday, February 10, 2002

You'd think that instead of saying, "Connection has timed out", my computer could try saying something more useful and accurate like: "Hey, nitwit, you've unplugged the network cable."

3:46 PM - link to this - (0) comments

See, what I need is total nippular awareness. (It's early in the morning, I'm high on I Eat Cannibal bouncy goodness, yes, I'm making up words. But back to the nipples...) See, that way I'd always know where the buggers were, and I could tell if I was flashing something I really shouldn't be. This is what comes of not having enough cleavage to confidently hold up your dress.

Tonight: conversation in Coles overheard by random guy who now thinks I'm insane - yes, the legend spreads; first decent cup of coffee since New Years; garlic bread and pasta; hysterical giggling and elf eyes; Amadeus well and truly rocking me. Goth nights are like no girl's night out Gina Jeffreys ever imagined.

I could handle a guy who wore skin-tight mesh shirts. Oh boy, could I handle him.

2:30 AM - link to this - (0) comments