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, April 20, 2002

Happily I stagger out of bed at whatever hour I damn well feel like on this, the first holiday morn. Lazily, yea verily, and apathetically too, I turn on the computer.

And great is my wrath when I discover I have only 2MB of transfer credit left. What the fuck can one do with 2MB? And what does one do when one has to wait until sodding Monday to get into the office and put more money on internet account?

One comes downstairs and uses the computer lab, that's what one does.

Last night was a pint of stout and catching up with old friends. For various reasons, we have our J1 back again, though he was never physically away. I still missed him. I really did. It was hard, living last year more or less without one of my Brute Squad. Catching up will be fun. But I might do it with a bottle of schnapps and some Kool Mints, because he didn't seem to truly appreciate the stout. Not as much as me, anyway.

6:15 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Thursday, April 18, 2002

Me: Shakespeare while drunk! Much more interesting.
H: methinkest definitely improves comprehension of all his random analogies
Me: More serious chemical assistance might be necessary for some of his work.
H: or a big gun
H: all those words would wither in sight of gargantuan cannon
Me: "Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him- uh, actually, it's not important..."
H: Mmm. Hamlet with less rambling by Hamlet
Me: Edited at gunpoint.
H: the invention of the dot point form

10:20 PM - link to this - (0) comments

It was breathtakingly beautiful, a sky to make you pause, and gasp, and stare until your eyes water and you have to blink despite not wanting to miss a second. Deep, rich blue above my head, fading into the darkness of night in one direction, and brightening to the last whispered remembrance of the sun disappeared over the hill in the other. Heavy clouds hung just above the horizon, rendered malevolently grey by the lighting, save underneath where they were hilded faintly, a counterpoint to the intense blueness of the sky. To the right, in a cerulean space free of cloud, a perfect crescent moon hung, magical.

It was a sky that made me wish for a camera, knowing that I had not the words to do it justice, that memory would never capture it, that - and this with the certainty that colours all such incidents - that I would never see a sky like that ever again.

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

Wednesday, April 17, 2002

What I need, what I really need, is a wading pool full of hundreds and thousands. Yeah. That's what I need.

8:47 PM - link to this - (0) comments

"...so I nuked all six of his major cities, and then Transcended."
"How zen."

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

Come the revolution, fucking "letter size" paper will be first against the wall. Enough of this hippy crap. A4 all the way. Comform, bitches!

10:52 AM - link to this - (0) comments

In Adelaide, a man dressed in a bikini and toting a whip tried to steal a taxi. He was taken to a psychiatric hospital. Sounds to me like he should have just been taken back to his college.

9:14 AM - link to this - (0) comments

Tuesday, April 16, 2002

The class: Superpower Interventionism. Specifically, Vietnam.

The line: "They didn't want the nationalist ho to come to power."

The thought process: "Yeah, damn that slut spreading her filthy lies and STDs. Oh, Ho. Ho Chi Minh. Yeah. Right."

7:07 PM - link to this - (0) comments

To what extent should we be allowed to do what we want?

This is getting dangerously close to arguments about rights and the protection thereof, and that's a rant for another day when I don't have reading I should be doing and can type for an hour about it. What I'm talking about is certain lifestyle choices.

Let's start with my bitching about the goth night the other day. So we all dressed up goff-like, and we got stared at, glared at, flinched away from. Why? What prompts that sort of knee-jerk recoil? Fear of the unknown? It seems to be the accepted answer, but... well, it doesn't seem to be enough to me. Need to conform, I dunno. They think we're 'weird', but do they ever stop to think how, or whether it's necessarily a bad thing?

Probably not.

I'm witnessing an on-list discussion regarding sexuality, appearances and responses. It's interesting. While I am, and appear to all the world to be, practically an old married woman, I am of the opinion that everyone is bisexual. Kinsey scale, and all that. I mean, we love people, not equipment.

(I don't think I'm going anywhere with this. Maybe I should just end it here, and go back to the Vietnam War.)

Should anyone else be bothered by any choice I make about how to live my life? Should I be bothered by anyone else's decision? Shouldn't we just be a conglomeration of people and their individual choices? The beautiful diversity of life in all its glory.

I tell you, a cynic is just a frustrated optimist.

2:22 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Monday, April 15, 2002

Due to the myriad little mistakes, cock-ups, accidents, slips, things forgotten, naps taken, time wasted, knocks, bumps, and general lack of cornflakes, I would like to suggest that today has just been a rough draft, and I can try again, this time with spell-check enabled.

Please?

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

Sunday, April 14, 2002

The Super Mario remix of Nine Inch Nails' "Closer" is the funniest thing I've heard in a long time.

7:37 PM - link to this - (0) comments

I had such a good night out last night. My outfit worked first time (which never happens). There were two extremely good sets of music, and lots of little bits in between, and I spent lots of time on the dance floor. And then the walk home brought me to sad, lost hatred of mankind.

So, to the whole bloody mass of boundless human stupidity, but specifically to those who think it's OK, or a good idea, or fucking expected to spit on my friend just because he's wearing make-up, and you're drunk, and a sodding wanker:

Fuck you.

Oh so sincerely,
- Dee

8:37 AM - link to this - (0) comments