Second confession ...

 ... my beautiful favourite band Augie March have release a cd of songs recorded live, which I have bought both physically and digitally and maddeningly also vinyly - even though I do not possess a record player. 

I also bought the vinyl version of the rerelease of Sunset Studies because it looks like a lolly.

I am an idiot.

I am going out tomorrow to look at record players.

I still kind of want to lick it.

Busy busy busy bee

I wish i was in quarantine!
I've wanted a couple of weeks off for years.
8 years to be exact.
Ever since i started working casual.
I have no self control.
Havent managed to save up enough to have two weeks off.
Sigh.
Probably i could if i would, but i cant so i dont.

I've books and boxes wot need sorting and clothes to be bagged, curtains to wash and gardens to dig.

I am quite jealous of the older patients who are mostly self isolating who are telling me about all the gardening they are doing.
Bastards!

Self isolating is my normal state of being except for going out for breakfast.

I sent a picture of my attempt at making my own breakfast to my favourite closed local cafe and they laughed and laughed.

I know when i must be looking particularly frazzled at work, because some very nice person, who has been very patient, will quietly wait for a momentary pause between phone calls, which are few, to tell me something nice or uplifting, like ... "you're doing a very good job", or giving us a random box of chocolates. People are very nice.

A large number of people are now ending conversations or phone calls with "stay safe".

We ran out of face masks for the receptionists at work a couple of weeks ago, but Townsville doesn't really have many cases and the risks are low, so I'm not worried.

I await with interest to see how long the hand sanitiser lasts.  If it keeps on like it is we may make it too the mid or end of April.  I think the next delivery is May.

However, we are doing lots more phone consults now so maybe it will all even out in the end.

I am somewhat more stressed about peoples inability to read signs.

We have red tape.
We have wet floor signs.
We have additional signs taped to the wet floor signs.
We have signs taped to the counter.
We have signs taped to the doors.
We have a large whiteboard in the middle of the doorway with signs as people come in and signs on the walls.
We have lots of signs everywhere, and social media might even count as signs in the air?

We are a plague strewn version of Dr Seuss, but ... we still cannot stop people from leaning on the counter to get in close to talk to us about how they don't want to have to wait because its not safe to linger long inside medical centres with all the sick people.

Easter weekend and i have two days off in a row and hoping to trick myself into being a domestic goddess by talking about all the things i plan to accomplish ...  as if the only thing stopping me being tidy is circumstances and not some illogical mental kink, or maybe a more plain and simple explanation such as lazy lack of interest.

I moved my bed into the longeroom and only rise to go to kichen or bathroom.  The cats love it.  Much snuggling and cuddling, but i really must clean the front rooms and move the bed back into the bedroom, even if it is just for the exercise the five or more steps would achieve, and the sitting up in a chair to watch television which would probably be gooderer for my digestion.

Your feeble domestic intentions are no match
for the dark side.  Leave the bed where it is.
Go on about your business. 

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!!!!!!  ....

Oopsy

My eldest sister gifted me with desexing for my invading and persistent small fluffy orange cat.

However, it may have come too late for Suki, who is looking plump and bulging.

I can't be cross.
I'd love to have a couple of kittens to inject a little life into my household.

Not at all sensible though, but too late to quibble.

And a good solid reason to encourage myself to clean out the cupboard and mop and dust the bedrrom, which I've been having difficulties making myself do.

Had Friday off.
Had to get up early and have the scooter in for service by 8.
Walked to my sisters and then fell asleep until 11.30.
Picked up scooter and went home and then fell asleep again until 5 or 6.
Then was asleep again by 10.
One would think I were 90 not 40!!!

Will have three whole days off in a row next week and have high hopes of getting stuck into housework, gardening and spending quality time with the Bokkie-cat who has been quite desperate too play tiggy in the backyard.

Unless Suki chooses next weekend to pop.

How nice if they were fluffy too.
Tabby fluffy by preference.

I am a sucker for a plain old tabbycat.

... and also,

... mother has only been here for a day and a half, and its all been fine, but for some reason my eye tick wot i used to get in Sydney  when I was working long hours has started all ready.

I am spending all Monday  (my birthday) with her to expatriate  (sp?) my guilt for forgetting to call on her birthday. So far the plan is to spend all day driving around all the new suburbs I've yet to see.

What if I die before I hear the new album?
I may die of boredom.
Or kill my self.

Or kill my mother.

What was I thinking?

I was thinking i am a bad daughter who is counting down the years left based on when my grandmother's died.

Considering the effusive language being used by my parent in recent phone calls, so is she.

I am going to be very nice to my mother this year.
I am going to be very nice to my  mother this year.
I am going etc.

I am chanting to myself
A positive affirmation.

I can totaly do this.
Only it is so  much easier to do drunk than sober.
I can be quite chaty when tipsy.

My eye is still twitching.

Concept - reducing clutter ...

... funnily enough this has been something I have been trying the last few years.

I reasoned, that if everything had a place, it would be easier to put them in their place.  I have gotten rid of more books then I ever conceived possible.

Lately, i have boxed up all my bric-a-brac with the intent of what is not missed can be disposed of.

Oddly enough, i find this has made me even more messy.

As if the possesions are the barrier that holds my mess in check.

I think I need a certain kind of clutter around me to make me feel like I am present and securely occupying my space, but it is only a theory so far, as i haven't managed to get to a vacant enough state to be able to start from scratch.

I was in the mind set last night to just throw everything out and start again. It is still tickling at my mind as an interesting idea.  What would it be like to start again. What would the new posessions I chose show me to be, uncluttered by things given by others to muddy the view. All a bit nacasistic says my inner self.

When boxing bric-a-brac it turned out to be mostly stuff given to me. Probably most of what I own has been given or inherited or gifted as presents at obligatory occasions when someone has to give you something, not nessecarily because it solely spoke to them as something I just had to have, so they bought it without a need to buy something

I am getting convoluted and squiggly.

My head is like this on an ordinary day.
I don't even want to revisit it on a bad day.
They happen on their own and don't need to be reaffirmed in a light hearted blog.

Stuff isnt important anyway.
Oh look, a kitty!

Even my cat seems to think this is a silly post!

Shoulds are on my mind

Mary-cat and Blossom are both trying to fit on the chair behind me.
I appreciate their dedication and effort, even though it means I cant lean back.

Its not a very good chair at the moment anyway. The cushions had an unfortunate encounter with an incontinent Bubba-cat (may he rest in peace). I keep meaning to measure things up and get myself some new ones, but I never quite get round to it.

I shouldnt be sitting around anyway.

I can't help myself ...

... I just can not resist putting a flower in my hair.

Books

Am up to the third book in series writ by Holly Black and Cassandra Clare. About the Magisterium.

Individually they are nice but not all consuming for me.

Holly is good and interesting, but not exciting.

Cassandra is exciting but angsty and for gods sake can we have a break and just interact without shaking the earth, bloody heck but you make me tired. Can we just stop for some tea or cake, or something.

Far out.

Magisterium series is excellent, thou angsty and teenagerey, which is fair enough because it is for young readers, but i miss Anne McCafferys touch which could have been for young readers still, but without the characters having to be stoopid, or overly angsty, or specifically teenagerary.

Probably that doesnt make sense, but I've started a few books for young readers lately and although the story has been good, they have shit-me-to-tears, and I havent been able to finish.

I hate not finishing.

Admittedly i didnt finish Harry Potter.  I came in early and really liked the first two books when he was getting shut in cupboards alot. After that it was all a bit 'meh' for me.

Probably its good i never wanted to have children.

I would totally have shut them in cupboards.
At least for short periods when I was trying to read.

Maybe I could have set them up with lamps so they could have read about being shut in cupboards whilst being shut in cupboards.

Probably its good I never read Flowers in the attic, though I cant say for sure, because I never read Flowers in the attic.

If you write it it will happen

Slightly closer to being online again.
Well, more than slightly.
Perhaps more just slightly off being online again?
Best friend gave me her old computer.
Windows drivers downloaded (whatever they are)
Just need to go get a new sim for the donglethingywhatever since it has been so long since I used it.

Cutest little black cat lurking around my flat.  Massive testicles for such a little kitty.  Belongs to someone, cause has a collar.  Vague teasing thoughts of accidentally on purpose letting my unfixed girl cat out so I could have lots of little black kittens like in the nightmare I had on Monday are kicking about in the back of my mind, but I assure you I am resisting!  It is my goal to get Wombat-cat desexed before Christmas.

My beautiful Bubba-cat, who would have been 17 come January as far as I am aware, disappeared never to be found mid-July and I have been very sad.  I have at least stopped crying every time I come home because he isn't running down the driveway to herd me into the carport.  He was looking very frail and was deaf and senile and it would have been his time soon, but I so wanted a body.  I had intended to have him cremated and carry his remains around it a little pottery jar whenever I moved house. (I inherited the ashes of one of the family cats "Russell".  Mum used to have them, but then she moved and was downsizing belongings and ditched him on my older sister, who had originally owned him until mum stole him.  Marianne didn't really want them, but didn't want to chuck them out, so I took them.  He was a great cat)

So ... i am down to five cats now.

The ever beautiful, wonderful and delightful Augie March have at last put together a new album which should be out soon and I am waiting with bated breath to hear.  October October October come soon :)

Have failed dismally to save up, argh, it is karma that I have no travel money and shall have to slap myself about until I get my brain functioning again.

Have mostly been sleeping for the last year or so, so it will be good for me to blog again.  I do more when I have interests.  Am doing up the atrium at work and will post photos when I finish.  Not that it will be anything earthshatteringly interesting, but have vague intentions of making some little monsters/creatures out of modeling clay, weatherproofing them with boat sealant and having them peek out from under plants. A project for next year.  Have never made anything before and will probably be terrible at at.  I have never been good with my hands.

ciao

move along people - nothing to see here

oh ah ... I am  begging my cats forgiveness for my slackness concerning their kitty litter whilst at same time cursing them ( or in this case her ) for leaping up onto my little notebookieishcomputerthingy when I was amidst online testing for a recruitment company, causing me to grab and chuck in a precipitice (sp?) manner, and thus her claw which had delicately and lightly landed and latched, snicked and lifted the letter "t" away, making my blogging life just that little bit more difficult, which indeed has nothing to do with my slack poopyscoping - i merely lack the will

my scooter blew a fuse at an inconvenient moment this week and I spent too much in that first initial first flush of money and now I am screwed, fuse or no - I really don't want to beg money from my mother, but may yet need to

my oldest and best beloved cat vomits if he is fed anything other than fancyfeast which is distributed in tiny little cans at a dollarish a pop which at twice a day, fourteen days, comes to twenty-eight dollars - if I am lucky

indeed the four yorkshireman sketch is close to my thoughts as I attempt to work out my fortnighly budget - pffft!

really I can't  help but thing I should just blow the whole thing and just buy champagne instead

I almost wish I smoked so that I could futilely puff away a weeks worth of food in an hour via a long cigarette holder

but would you not be offended if someone said I don't thing you'll have a problem fitting in, I think it is more of an issue of you focussing on the work - after pointed and laboured questions like, have you ever worked in an open plan office before?

apparently I talked too much at the interview, but isn't one supposed to talk at an interview?  Particularly if the person doing the interview doesn't actually ask you any questions?  What was I supposed to do?  I think it is because I've turned forty.  I am less nice than I used to be.  I wouldn't normally take offence, but in my last job I was working six and seven day weeks unpaid and ten hour days and even when I came back to work casual, after having resigned, had to point out to the person replacing me that it doesn't really work when updating the database if the person has written the wrong month down and hadn't she noticed?  because it doesn't really work if it is only september and you are dating stuff off as having been done in November.

still ... that is all behind me now and I need to get a grip (but still it seems like a very rude thing to say at an interview - it was just ordinary chitchat for heavensake - the ol' I like to be busy and daytime television is aweful - Xena is my high point of the day blah blah blah).

(I promise not to mention Xena at an interview ever again - cross my heart)

(fuck me, what would have happened if I'd mentione Dr Phil?!)

hands over ears la la la la la

I am sooo bad.  Have spent last few days mostly in bed reading. 

Bought the second Autobiography by Russell Brand, which was as funny as the first one.  And shocking.  And had those few times that I have to slam the book down and close my eyes and scream no no no don't do that, before he recounted the embarassing thing and the belly laugh out loud moment, which in the first one was the stripper he'd spat on in retalation for the slap she gave him and then had to beg the use of her phone cause he'd shut himself out of the appartment, possibly naked - can't quite remember now.  In this one it involved a dog.  Laughed so hard I started coughing and had to go have a glass of water.

Re-read some Lois McMaster Bujold books. 
Re-read some Tamora Pierce books.

My sloth reaching new heights or depths considering how you look at it.

Should be gardening and tending to my tomatos which appear to be dying. damnit.

Gosh darn well cleaning all the kitty litter trays out thoroughly tonight for my poor neglected kitties.  I am neglecting them too, though they appear to be loving the whole day snuggling on the bed opportunity.

My delightfuly 90 year old neighbour watched the show about alien abduction.  He's had instances where he has woken from sleep unable to move and I had previously mentioned to him about the sleep paryalsis (sp?) but he never really pays attention to what I say and was delighted to tell me all about it after watching the sceptic lady on the show explaining about it. lol

Monday

And as I slump my way through the day I ponder is there an actual god of sloth and should I be setting up a shrine that I don't make offerings too?

Yesterday was good, actually the day before yesterday was good.  I was sort of productive.  I mopped my kitchen floor.  I scoopped poop.  I contemplated all the good things I would do the next day.

And then I, I kind of obsesessed about the prospect of no further Terry Pratchett books, and ... I couldn't bring myself to finish the book I was reading.  I read three quarters of the way through and now I wonder if I should set up a bookcase for books I really like and am saving to finish or when I really need them.

It is silly.
I will probably finish it tomorrow.

The first time I read a Terry Pratchett book was when I as feeling very very bad.  I was in a job I hated for an extended period of time, that I felt I had no way out of.  I was on a trip that was terrible.  I was reading a book that made certain death funny.  I was gobsmacked.  It changed my life.  Or if not, it gave me something to hold onto.  I wasn't going to off myself yet because I hadn't read the next Terry Pratchett book.

It is silly, but I am finding it hard to reorganise my sole reason for existance now that he is no longer writing books.

Not that I haven't been unfaithful since.  There are lots of authors I have been devoted to since.  Lots.  Lots and lots.

I have a warm purring cat waiting for me in my bed.  He likes to sleep in the back of my knees.  I shall cut short this contemplation of existential angst and mention that Marieke Hardy has book out for those of a brave disposition.   Called, I think, "You will miss me when I'm dead" or I could be wrong.  I think it is probabably worth being wrong :)  She is a funny chick.

Brisbane pre-gig

So here I am enscounced in my hotel room.
Shoe shod feet resting on bag on bed so as not to dirty the sheets.
I have supped and sipped and now await the long slightly uphill walk to the venue.

Did not give in to the urge to pretend I slept in and missed my plane, which was my initial waking urge.  I hate travelling.

I survived the day with mother and worry at the sudden knife-sharp, only a bit deserved, snarls directed at my step-father.  Their relationship always seemed to work better with a third person in the house to water down the direct interaction and to distract from all the little habits that get to one after a while.

Neither the television nor the bedside lamp appear to be functioning but perhaps I am pressing the wrong buttons?  Perhaps there is another button that needs to be pressed before they will work?  Though they are plugged in and switched on.  Maybe the bathroom light needs to be turned on for them to work?

...
nope
...
Oh well.  Half an hour till I mosey and I have wine and a new (new to me that is since they are both deceased)  Constance & Gwenyth Little novel.  Black Corridors.  They continue to delight me.

Free internet is pretty darned good too :)
ciao

I am feeling better for my days off.
Close to sleeping properly again.

Today I went out.
Went to Willows Shopping Centre.
Which is about the only shopping centre left in Townsville with a book store.

I bought my sick niece a book.
(its getting on nearly three months now, I think - poor spotty tummy)
I bought my brother-in-law a book.
I bought myself a book.
(hardcover too - slaps wrist - bad wasteful sammy)
And, bought my twenty? month nieces a book too.
Called "whose bottom is this"
and it has flaps to open within
to find out whose bottom it is
lol

My kitchen floor has not enjoyed mopping, cause I haven't done it.
The computer game still domeniates my life.
Thus I credit what sleep I have experienced.
I have reached "Glorious" level and am reluctant to move on.
I rather like be classified as gorious :)

Yo

As a joke present, I bought a family member a book about cat painting.  Not painting cats, which is another book, but a book about cats painting.  It outlined a number of ways that you could test to see if your cat was artistic.

One of the ways to test if your cat was artistic was to place said feline in a relatively empty room with a few different coloured cushions to see which one they choose to sit on.  If they picked a compliementry colour they weren't terribly artistic, but if they picked a contrasting colour you were in and could start mixing a little bit of their urine or armonia (sp?) with some paint to see what would happen.

I like to think that Wooliff's dedication to sleeping, sitting, curling up on any strewn Augie March shoulder bag is because they are black (as is he) and not because his owner is an Augie March nut.

Twelve days until I get to hear Glenn Richards do his thing at the Old Museum in Brisbane and I've yet to book a place to stay nearby cause I don't got no money.

Galling that the lady at work that I offered to stay for two extra weeks because the first ladies declined their offer of employment and we had to advertise for resumes, doesn't remember that I did so and thought I was finishing this week and sent a lovely email ...

And I think my tendence towards marytrdom is due to my catholic upbringing and guilt that I didn't become a teaching nun like previous generations, but I never was religious and I never liked kneeling (and couldn't for the life of me understand booze tinged irish accents at that age - I was only ten but - probably it takes practice, ey?).

but .. but ... where did it go?

And what did I do,
with my weekend of liberty?
but lay slugabug in bed with book and computer
Misusing myself and my time ineffectually
when really I wanted to be in the sun
Playing with my niece or maybe gardening
But it took sooo long to save up for the elven sword
and I had to earn another couple of strength points
so I could pick the darn thing up
I yearned for the 'special' one at the gamblers shop
but couldn't afford it
he kept putting the price up as soon as I'd met the old one
so I bought the ordinary old one and had it ensorcialled
with sockets
though one doesn't get to choose
one has to get lucky to get sockets
and by then it was 7:30 sunday night and I was feeling a bit peckish

I think my arse has grown two sizes in two days
Maybe I should have been shopping for a virtual caftan
instead of a virttual elven sword

Forget my own head if it were not screwed on

Aha!  I was going to fess that since I have committed to an extra fornight, I have decided I need a special present for my fortitude and have bought flights to Brisbane to see the ever so wonderful Glenn Richards and Dan Luscombe and Mike Noga *sigh* I shall say his name again, Mike Noga, play at The Old Museum on Saturday 10 September.

I just have to hope that I can pay 8 weeks ahead of my rent and be ultra frugal so that I can also pay for some sort of accommodation instead of having to wander the street after till the early hours when perhaps I could find a quiet corner of the casino to snooze in until it is time to fly home.

I have no self control.
Obviously.
But darn, they are all so pretty and lovely and talented.
How can one resist?

If I won lotto I would finance recordings for them all for like totally ages.  Yet more reason why other people should write to Golden Casket to plead my case.

And now that I think of it ... what the hell is Dan Kelly doing?  Has he got a new recording out yet?  Fcukign pull your finger out dan.

Butter fingers

Impulse and frivolity hath won out over sensible financial management and I shall be popping to Melbourne in June to catch up with at least one friend, potentially more.  Just when I'd gotten my credit card paid off, d'oh.

My mood heavily influenced my backgammon game and I just had to see how many times my step-father could throw a two and hit my uncovered piece coming back into the game from the bar.  I ended up with ten pieces in his end and was soundly backgammoned.

There was potential for an exciting turn around, but I failed to throw a one when needed.  Unlike my step-father who appears to have the ability to call the numbers from the dice like magic.  Give me a seven, any seven sayth he, and lo, he throws a four and a three.  And hits another of my uncovered pieces.

And always, always at least two doubles or more as he is moving his pieces off the board.

Eight to one.

Hotels are next on my unthrifty list.  Shall I take a mystery wotif hotel deal?  I've always been tempted.  One says it is a five star with bathrobes.  I don't think I've ever stayed at a hotel that provided bathrobes yet.  I stayed at one as a child that had a bidet.  My fellow nine year old female friend found it more pleasurable than is proper and much giggling was heard from the bathroom.

Smacks self in head

Five cats managed to keep my legs and feet warm (and immovable), but the throw blanket doesn't reach to my shoulders and it was a chilly ol' morning from 2:45 am onwards.  I should have gotten up and grabbed a jumper or something, but my legs and my underside were warm and I am very lazy.

Made vegetable soup in slow cooker.
Ate soup for breakfast.
Feel sick.

Probably adding the Green Ginger Wine  was a mistake.

Also I probably should have checked to see that the jar of coriander leaves had a sprinkler lid thingy before up-ending it over the pot.

And really, I should try and remember that sometimes less is more and not just put every loose thing in the fridge in.

It tastes both spicy and sweet.