... sigh .... 2020

 Really, this is an unspeakable  year.   

My father passed away.  My other sister has cancer and is doing chemo ( thou ovarian cancer caught early, which is actually awesome, because you don't normally get to catch it early - so actually probablly great)

There have been other gastly things which I've obviously blocked from my memory cause I can't remember them off the top of my head.

One of my musician crushes passed away a few days ago and I only found out this afternoon. 

He once passed unnecessarily closely to my chair at a gig in Brisbane and I got to leer at his rear from an inch away, and then proceded to say sexually inappropriate things on line *smacks wrist bad sammy*.  One of a handful of people whom my occasionally unruly hormones and enthusiasms inspired me to fly for to see.  I even went out in Townsville, where I never feel particularly safe to be inebriated on my own.

RIP Mike Noga

Ps. Could all the other people I adore please take very good care of themselves for at least the next six months.  I'm usually pretty resilient,  but this year is testing me.

Farewell 2019 Greetings 2020

Fare thee well year ...
With all your foolish virtual self harming thoughts
Punishing maybes
And
Possibilities

I hear the echos of fucks
That resound from blocks away
Both joyous
And
Not

A new year

A year that was not anything
A year that passed in a heart beat
A year in which the heart seemed to beat too much
Too fast
And sometimes not at all

It all evened out in the end
And counted for nothing

I am not sure the year counted at all
It cetainly didn't really feel like it happened

Some things are more 'more' than they were
But some are less?

Some closer to death
But i feel more distant

Mum had a stroke
Dad has Alzheimers
The house a street away sounds like a jolly domestic
Which is all very confusing

I think i feel more positive?
Determined
Less plastic

Mums is mostly herself
Just tires easily
Dad is sedated

Turning eleven of the clock
and only three or four houses are loud now
Happy louds
Wa heys and woos
Instead of ings

Its amazing how far an ing carries.

Further than embers

I am on the cooking channel
I am reading a childrens book
I am trying not to think about my life

It almost would be a relief to watch the bushfire news
(Which is a silly selfish thought)
(And both true and untrue at the same time)
(I am not so selfabsorbed as to trump tragedy)
(But selfabsorbed enough to fancy it for awhile)

Which makes me flash back to a scene from Grosse Point Blank
What an awesome film that was
... for a while ...

My new years resolution...
... apart from quitting alcohol,
Eating healthy,
Exercising and loosing weight) ...
Is to watch Grosse Point Blank on a regular basis
And attempt to learn the words off by heart!

I don't expect it to make me a more complete being

Probably I'd have to watch Lady Hawke for that, ay?

Edit:  you know it really drives me nuts when I can't work out what people are saying!  I refuse to put on dark clothing and crawl closer to their house just to hear. Why! Why did I not invest in one of them there cheap directional devices!  This happens every year.

Okay Fuckit!!!
That is my new NEW years resolution!
Directional fucking listening devices!

Fucking drives me nuts!

Ing ing ing ing ing

Edit edit:  and now all the neighbour hoood dogs are taking turns to bark.

And i can hear weird crashing fence noises
Close by ...
... but take reassurence in that they reported arresting the man in my neighbourhood this morning responsibe for a violent home invasion and crime spree, not really, argh!

Did i mention i missed most of 'Dinner for one'?
I love that show
I watch it every year
You should google it

Try and drink along with it, ha ha
Its a challenge!

They have been wooing periodically for hours
I just wish they sounded happier about it.

Twenty minutes to go.

Edit edit edit:  did i tell you already?  One of my first employers clients told my boss i sounded like a dead horse on the phone.  He called me into his office and made me practice sounding more cheerful.  He randomly called into the office over the next few weeks and after I'd answered the call would bark "SOUND MORE CHEERFUL".

This is what i want to tell the house a block away.

Twelve minutes too go

Edit efit editititditargh for heavens sake! Its still five mintes to go and they satarted the countdown to early and mucked it up counting down from ten to five.  Far ou brussel sprout.

Okay now they are wooing again.
They got the time right cause they can hear the fireworks going off in the distance...

... HAPPY NEW YEAR CUNTS     WOOO HOOO!!!!!!  ....

But ...

... i was only at work for six hours!
Why am i so tired?

After struggling with hunger, since I'd only snacked a bit since waking, I struggled to organise sustenance after work finished.  I was too hungry to buy food.  The decision was too hard.  I tried to tell myself that maybe I should just drink lots of water instead. (Or perhaps wine? Or a combination thereof!)

Luckily I  played Augie March the other day and had left over tadzike sittting languishing in the fridge.

It inspired me to get on my bike (scooter) and buy some eye fillet and rice.  (After I'd played Pennywhistle a couple of times.  Probably it should be mandatory listening in psych wards or something.  Prosac for the ears)

Have since consumed something particularly nice based around sauteed garlic in beef juices, wine, tadzeeke (howsoever it is actually spelt) and also fresh tadzeeke.

By golly, Augie March truly are the breath of life, yes?

One of the new doctors at work is both awesome, like the dragon warrior, and beautiful.

 She couldn't bring herself too leave before I , the lowly lackey, whose lot it is to clean up after all others.

The irony is fi-er-ce since I am one of the messiest persons in existence .

One day you will be watching a programme where they are cleaning out a cluttered messy dirty crammed unbelievably unlivable house like wot you see on those special programs they create to make OCD people feel better about themselves, and be able to say "I KNOW THAT PERSON", and yet ... I am the one swearing about people who cannot be bothered to put the donated magazines back on the table they are presumably sitting next to, since tbey have dumped the unclosed magazine UNDER THE TABLE OR THE CHAIR NEXT TO IT!!!!!!

I'm pretty sure its okay to use multiple exclamation marks in this instance.
And capital letters.
I'm pretty sure I'm not insane yet?
Although, I don't hold proof in writing.

I think people deliberately placing free magazines for their convenience under the table they are supposed to reside on is, like, some kind of war crime.
Or mental torture.
Or something.

I really, cannot belueve how cross it makes me.

I leave the cellophane wrapper off my microwave meal on the rug next to my bedroom chair until Tuesday night, when I ruffle tbrough my flat gathering all the rubbish for bin night.

I'm not fussy.

It used to just give me a pleasant glow of superiority , but I'm past that now.
I've been a receptionist too long.

My world view has narrowed down to the specific wavelength of 'have they bothered to actually close the magazine or are they just abandoning it on their vacant chair crunched back on the unfinished crossword puzzle they were half heartedly attempting out of stultifying boredom even though they don't like crossword puzzles".

I spend time trying to convince myself that it is worth the effort to actally close the magazine properly and make a neatish possibly inviting pile for the next person.

I very nealy just took them all away last weekend.
I wanted to put the in the cleaning cupboard where no one could mess them up.





Maybe I should go play some more Augie March?
Something soothing like Vineyard or Heartbeat and Sails?

The cracks are starting to show ...

... first time of mothers visit i called on a sober driver for the evening.  I am not coping with the continued explosure to parental presence.

Mother was in the kitchen sobbing over imagined slights by my eldest sister. Mother has been here since 6 January, but eldest is apparently still supposed to make a fuss of greeting her each time they meet even though they don't get on.

Maybe because they don't get on.
Sigh.

Plus we then played a game she was not participating in and she can't stand not being the centre of attention.

She seemed pretty cranky about watching a video featuring her grand-daughter, probably because she wasn't in it.  We were boring her apparently.   She is such an unnatural grandmother.

Some minor sledging earlier in the evening that I was cruel like my (eldest) sister because I crowed a little over being able to open the jar of garlic with my arthrtic joints when healthy people couldn't. 

My (diseased) sister thinks things are going okay this visit, but thats cause mum is savaging people when she ain't around.

Tipsy mother is now advising me I am the go to person after my (diseased) sister is gone. (She really does not want to be at my mercy. I have none left for her.)

She was weird last night too, like she was tipping me off that others would be elsewhere this morning if I wanted to spend some alone time with my (diseased) sister.  I think shes forgotten I live here?

I can see her Chop anytime I want.

Its not like she is dying in the next three days.
She isn't dying at all.
Barring unforseen complications.

Things are just going to be rather unpleasant for the next six/twelve months or so, with the possibility of recurrents down the track.

My spellcheck has disappeared.

I may have just indicated a repeat attack of dehydrated grapes.
I'm pretty sure I can take out a few wisened grapes if they get stropy.
I've already killed a grapevine without even trying.
I sup the juice of the grape like it be water.
I have got the grapes totally covered, be they wrathful or not.

Just not up to coping with my mother.

Don't know when she is going home.
She may be waiting for Choppys next set of tests.
PETscan and CT scan of brain, just to make sure is primary and not secondary.
Hopefully they happen next week.

Please let her go home soon.
Please!

Edit:  funnily she never counts her boy children. If I had to chose someone other then Choppy, I'd chose my not so little, little brother.  He is handsome, sucessful, thoughtful, organised and considerate.  Mum only obsesses about the girls.  Maybe, in her mind, the boys don't belong to her. Maybe she thinks of them as belonging to dad?  But really, she has always been very dismissive of males in general.

Her loss, ay?

The bits ....

... i am fond of from my beloved band's first single are 'the tree of love is sappy' and 'i fornicate with the moon'.

I had a bedroom in a highset house wot looked out onto the sunrise which I would wake briefly to, before going back to sleep during my teenage years.

Sometimes I would wake earlier to only the moon and stars and fornicating with the moon is the unromantic version of where my thoughts drifted.

I  blame it on the greek myths I used to read .  I think many go through that phase.

Only bestie Michelle ever tried to draft a family tree of the greek gods.

It got very complicated.

After she'd had to tape together four sheets of foolscap paper because Zeus kept raping/fornicating with sisters/daughters/grand children, not to mention Venus and her children and other varous gods leaking semen about the place she gave up and moved on to designing Flash Gordon style outfits onto outlines of Betty and Veronica from Archie comics.

I can't see myself making it to any shows in the near future.

I am going to hang around home like a bad smell and attempt to be useful.

WARNING - Sad post alert - Last saturday ...

... my beautiful Pease Blossom ...
  (a boy, just to clarify)
((my main cat, just to be more clarifcific)) ...
passed away, convulsing in my arms.
He had renal failure and was not robust in his illnesss. Many times choosing not to eat.

If i were rich he would have spent weeks on drips and bi-weekly blood tests and over $100 monthly pills.

Such was not possible.

He would hide if a car pulled up in front of a neighbours house.
When at the vets he would need to be force fed unless i could visit, for he would not eat or defect if i were not present.

He always slept on my hip, or back or stomach.
He would be on my lap if i were still.
Or on my back if i so much as leant slightly forward.
He liked back-surfing.
I would take him on trips around the house like so.

He waged a war with the Tablet, where he won if he sat closer to my face than the screen.

I had to work last Saturday.
I work every Saturday now because no one else wants to work saturdays, even though they know i would like to have two days off in a row at least once a month. Even though i cover all their shifts whenever they don't want to work them.

The manager was on leave, so i didn't feel able to not work.

Blossom waited until i came home.

I rinsed his mouth out under the tap and bundled him in a blanket, stroking his poor head.

He seemed to give me a purr, though that could well have been my overstrained imagination.

I cradled his corpse for far longer than was probably necessary because i couldn't differentiate between the blood pulsing in my ears and a heartbeat.

He is currently in my freezer pending a decision on burial.

Its been raining alot.
The irony is fierce.
It rarely rains here.
We have been on level three water restrictions for months.
The radio station personalities are calling Townsville "the Dome".

My yard is underwater, so burial with commerative garden is unfeasible at present.

I am very sad.
He was a very nice cat.
He was only nine.

Nevermore

Springbok is never ever ever ever being allowed outside ever again. Dissappeared and did not come when called, from 3 ish until just now at nearly 10 pm.

Think maybe he got lost in the stormwater drains.

I was wandering about outside making loud chicken noises (herrrreeee bokkie bokkie bok, bok bok bokkie). My neighbours probably think I 'm mad.

Not helpful when I am supposed to be getting ready for my next rental inspection.

I was singing the stoopid cat song.

'Stoopid cat, stoopid cat. Where fore art thou, stoopid cat? Stoopid cat, stoopid cat. You are such a stoopid cat', to the tune of smelly cat from Friends,

Argh

... and of course the blood tests say there is nothing wrong with me, regardless of the fact my hands tremour with tiredness and i feel like i am on the verge of passing out half the time, bah!

I am going to drink some wine and ruminate on the injustices of science!

(I'm maybe a little bit anemica, but nothing much and doc betrayed surprise that my cholesteral was fine - ha!)

Odd

It is not a good year, so far, for people i know. One dead due to head injuries from a fall down stairs; another just diagnosed with breast cancer, and at the moment i am hoping nieces broken toe counts as something cause everything else seems to be fairly extreme.

Was covering someone elses shift at work Friday. She is an ex-hairdresser and always wears lots of makeup and good hair, so dressed up and did my hair and makeup, to be funny.

Startled at the reaction engendered by both public and workmates.
Can only conclude I must look a bit rough sometimes.

Believe there is speculation that perhaps I now have a boyfriend, lol.

I will post soon.

The trainee wot I am fond of is moving in a couple of weeks.
And the other temp wot I am fond of is finishing next friday, sadly when she thought she was listted against the other permanent staff wot is on maternity leave till next May and thus a nasty surlprise and I am snookered as to h-wh-hat I shall do for their respective last days.

The trainee is awesome and pierced and tatooed and tall and lovely.
And the other temp is pierced and cool and fab and has awesome hair and I wish both of themwould be with me for ages. 

I am contemplating working on a little cartoon of trainee telling someone on the phone to have a good day, whilst simultationously contemplating how much she woudl like to come around and punch them, which is one of the opinons she voices so often ... that the persons calling in should be punched.

And the temp ... I have offered to make her bacon and onion dip.  I can't help but feel like I am short changing someone.  But which one?

well fuck.
I completely missed earth hour.
And I was so impressed by one of the ads I saw.

What the heck day was it anyway?

Work is kind of sucking. 

Four days off WOOT!I am going to clean and sort and weed and make my home beautiful for myself and then perhaps save up for a four hundred and something dollar fibreglass sheep (bugger the chest of drawers) to make myself feel beter.

oh shit i hope dr who hasn't started yet

So ... a change of government.
hum
interesting?
maybe

it does however mean that I may be unemployed again very soon, since I am a mere temp and that is usually one of the first things that is cut (although not for very long - couple months down the track we all come back - such number fakery - although not necessarily the same people)

which is a pity cause I saw this gorgeous dressing table at a second hand store on saturday which I would adore to own - along with the indian glory box which was the size of a dining room table - so awesome.  I wished I'd had camera with me.  They will probably be sold by the I get back there next week - even though getting back there next week will make no difference because I really shouldn't be buying stuff.  I should be culling so that all my belongings fit into one suitcase.

Apart from the cats, of course.

By golly ... I think I feel a breeze

Ominous rumblings foreshadow an aproaching storm.  Last nights interrupted power supply.  I baked, slow roast, in my ceiling fan deprived state and wondered why of the six candles I had in a line on a low bookcase, only two were flickering - the rest steady as torchlight.  I contemplated my radioless state and the silence and decided to drink the rest of the bottle of wine I had bought to add to the spagboll since the candlelight was insufficient for easy reading.

Tonight the sprinkler has been made redundant and I have braved fat cold raindrops to switch it off.

The thunder, which yesterday I didn't even realise was thunder, is back in long low rolling grumbles reminiscent of a train running past or an extended and rather impressive fart.

My little solar led lights are charged up and ready, just in case and I have finished all the Katherine Kerr books my friend sent me.  I am back to re-reading Lois McMaster Bujold books.  Wil Anderson is performing but I've not the will-power to drag myself into town.  It's hot and I'm stinky and I failed to win powerball.

I shall try and make something of myself tomorrow.  It is still Saturday, isn't it?

It's Friday and I've offerred to go in Monday, cause I want things to go nicely for Office Manager,  but can't see how it will be maintained after I am gone. 

Area Manager finishes Friday and I WANT to do something nice for him as a present. 

In my mind, I believe that hand made presents are more meaningfuly, but in my actual brain I understand that nobody really wants crap handmade stuff.  I am battling with my instincts. 

Probably a bottle of rum would be more appreciated. 

I think I shall paint a picture and a bottle of rum and then the picture can be something that they might like after they have consumed the rum. 
The entire bottle of rum. 
I am no dab hand at painting.
Never have been.
Yet I persist.

Maybe one day I shall paint something other people will like.

I have liked stuff I've painted for myself.  One was inspired by my sister and her first baby.  But she never liked it and seemed rather embarrassed by it. 

I kept it for years but in this last year have chucked it along with a couple of the others I was fond of. 










I have become frustrated with the amount of junk I cart about. 

Particularly in comparison with my 90 year old neighbour.  I don't think he could be messy or cluttered if he tried.

His lounge room has one chair.  One television on a cart and one cupboard.  No rugs.  No dirty cups.  Nada.  Nothing.  Just all clean empty floor. He doesn't even use the ceiling fans because he has a theory that they do more harm than good and he only uses floor fans.

He is a rental agents dream.

But then again, most of his chat is of times gone past - which I don't mind at all - I quite like the idea of being the person that he can revive his memories with.  He talks about his deceased wife and of their trips together.  Of how it was for them when they lived in Western Australia.  Of their life in Victoria.  About how awesome she was at making lamingtons.  Of her love of pot plants and how often he whacked his head on the ferns.  They were the first things to go when his wife died.  Apparently they had lots of garden beds and vegetables when she was alive, but now the yard is all just lawn and things that don't interfere with the mowing.

He talks about when he was stationed in Darwin during the war, and of how he lived on his poker winnings and sent all his money to his wife.  He talks of how some of them men would ferment their own booze in coconuts and the various troubles that ensued.

But it would really be easier to keep things clean if I didn't have as much stuff.

Lecture Mode

Okay, so.  Unless you are selling something you probably shouldn't have your 'whole name' on your internet id.  You MOST CERTAINLY SHOULDN'T have your actual name on your internet id.  Come up with some kind of alias before you get any older!!!!!

End of Lecture
Auntily duties closed

*thoughtful silence*

damned if I can remember what the heck I was going to waffle about now

One of the reasons I wish I were a hermit

A person I work with is talking about, and probably would/will, killing their neighbours cat that is taking a dump in his backyard.

This is Townsville folks.  This is the place where men are happy to kill other peoples pets and put their corpses in the wheelie bin, if they stray too close to their yard.

Why can't they just piss all round the perimeter of the yard like wot animals do?

Their mother-in-law suggested they leave out some milk with an aspirin dissolved in it.

How lovely.

Sooky Rant

trauma and strife
work transitioning from laid back private business style to big business
still allowed to check your stuff on the net

but being stricter about times

I usually work through my lunch and do my banking when I think of it
curses
I have no sense of timing
I shall have to set a timer and reminder notes for myself
as we have been requested to keep it to between 12 and 1 pm

i generally come in early and read my private emails and the exploding dog cartoon whilst sorting through all the work stuff that takes so long to print since we got the new printer that isn't properly connected up to the network yet - one can read and file at the same time - damnit 

Well, I suppose on the plus side I may as well sleep in, ey?

one always gets a few extra hour of work from the field guys who never see office staff under usual circumstances because they are gone by the time we arrive anyway - one day I timed it and I gained three hours of extra work just because I turned up early (i was trying to get ahead of my backlog hahahahahahaha)


it's really just that I hate other people scheduling me

DON'T SCHEDULE ME MAN

I'm, like, a free spirit, yeah?
like, totally
and I like to eat my lunch at 11 o'clock too
SO THERE!!!!
*blows raspberry*

 you're not the boss of me

(well actually you are and you should give me a payrise)
these are not the droids you are looking for and give madcatlady a payrise
*waves hands mysteriously significantly like a mystical alien Delvene Delaney*



(Delvene Delaney was an australian gameshow wavey/gesturey lady)
(wiki says she was co-host!?!?)

Do you suppose asking to look at the internet outside of 12 and 1 because of personal inadequacies would be acceptable?

wanders away muttering I really really have to get my internet connected at home again

My attempt at a mystical alien Delvene Delaney

P.S.  Essentially what I am saying is I  guess I am back to blogging once a week on a Saturday *sigh*

I'm not really here

Young people today
they always have the television up sooo loooud

I have decided I rather like wholemeal spaghetti
I feel like I am betraying my hedonistic slacker lazy inner self
and outer self
but it was quite toothsome
does this mean I am a grown up?

I wish I owned this dog.

Fuck yes!!!!!

(my niece has just announced she feels like making biscuits for dessert)

She is complaining about how much her sister talks and enjoying her absence.

I am going to look up to see if I won lotto on saturday now.
I wish I were retired.
Work is emotionally draining and it seems silly and wimpy to say so of a business that does not involve the mental wellbeing of ones fellow human beings or stray animals or something.

I have an electric blanket now.  I just want to stay home with my electric blanket all the time.

Flappy hand wave

It having been so long since I have interacted with anybody, I find it hard to start again.  Rather like the few times I saw my dad after the family broke up.  Nothing to talk about - and as it turned out, no real shared history to base anything on.  He'd always been off working the farm or watching television or talking to other adults.  Being thrown up into the air and caught again when I was a toddler, though thrilling at the time, doesn't leave one with much to converse about.

I am getting a lot of reading done.

I bought a quill and some ink on Thursday.  Perhaps I shall inflict some handwritten letters onto friends next week :) 

In progress ...

I have a line from a Decemberist's song running through my head on endless repeat "and I will hang my head, hang my head low" and it's a great song, but I would prefer more of it.

Had the booklet out to sing the darn thing of an evening - trying to remember the words by repetition -but it is not sticking.  Went to play the CD, but then remembered I can't sing along with Colin and saved myself the pain of sounding like a strangled chicken.  That is always so disheartening.

http://syn.org.au/program/hoist/episode/audio/2010/05/10/dan-kelly/908
Just popping this here temporarily, to remind myself to check back.  There was something mentioned about an interview upload on the way.

I've realised that it's not so much that I am obsessed with these musicians, I just like finding stuff on the net.  It's a hobby.  I am willing to acknowledge that it is a weird hobby.

Edit:  That damn $69 fare is still there, curses *shakes fist at screen*
(of course the flight to Brisbane is now up to $210 from its previous $199)