basement quashed

I'm hanging out with darkentropy and cluckfuster on my loungeroom floor with fuzzy blankets & big cushions, warm lighting, atmospheric muse sicks and super sweet white wine. Oh, and lots of chocolate. Guppy is curled up between us, and has a preference for deep touch. I agree with her that deep touch is satisfying, but there is something orgasmic about light touch as well. I go both ways.

We've talked about communal parenting, communal relationshipping. Sharing resources, time, and love :)
We've talked about journalling, and LiveJournal, and read each other's journals, and other people's journal entries about me. haha.
We're wondering if it's sex if there are no mouths, no fingers/hands, no undressing.. but grinding and orgasms. My vote is yes, that counts. I don't think that orgasming alone can be counted as sex though; there needs be another person involved. Storm disagrees.

Soon we'll start some editing.. after we go to the bottleshop for moar wines, which we're about to do right now. It's just really cold out there, although.. I can smoke. k I'll deal.

A three day week doesn't mean I HAVE to drink every other night, you know.

Also, I'm moving out. I looked at a place last night and it was pretty swish, although the room was small. It did have a private balcony though. And the apartment had a huge rooftop area in which I could have some pretty awesome parties. I'm just not sure I could live with two professional late-twenties women who go to the gym twice a week. I'll keep looking.

I'd really rather live by myself, but would have to live too far out of town to afford it. I think I would much prefer to live central and deal with housemates. Perhaps. I guess I'm lucky in that I don't have to rush.. although I kind of want to...

"Okay I'm done. How can I end this journal entry on a high note?"
"Um, Marie is here?"
"Okay say something funny Marie."
"Bitches be crazy."

I last updated exactly half a year ago. Facebook has made me lazy.. it requires no thought and minimal consideration. arrr.

I've been making lots of clothes with fabric bought from ebay 'cause Brisbane has no fabric that isn't hideously boring, or just hideous.

Come to see Infected Mushroom with us on February 23rd please.

Today is my only day off for the week and I am spending it nakedly simultaneously watching Samurai Jack and playing laptoppy computer games. and typing here random things I think of throughout. and meeting people later for pounds and pounds of coffee. Yes, pounds.
's working too much :<

I don't tell my livejournal private things like I did 7 years ago, when there was no one I knew personally who read it. Maybe that's why I don't use it anymore. I'm an exhibitionist unless it's at people I have to deal with on a week-to-month basis. You know.. when the world rests on your head/in your bed, and you feel like a deeply loved goldfish.

My fish are deeply loved.. the first half of my day off was spent transferring them out of their slightly leaky tank into a brand new one.

Last night, walking home from work, I passed under a railway bridge (the lights were orange, stared eagerly at suspicious shadows), and smelt sparklers. You know? What is that smell, what are sparklers made of? I heard loud bangs, and vividly imagined the bridge crumbling, plundering my noggin.. or perhaps just as I emerged from under it, spinning around in shocked disbelief, heartbeat, calling triple 0, trembling "there could be people, cars, me, under there..." Then racing home for my camera.

Ah, yeah I am loved... more than I love.

Anyone who reads this, post a comment and hit Ctrl+V, and nothing else. Just paste what's in your clipboard:

62% reported having been raped in prostitution.
73% reported having experienced physical assault in prostitution.
72% were currently or formerly homeless.
92% stated that they wanted to escape prostitution immediately.
Farley, M., Baral, I., Kiremire, M., & Sezgin, U. (1998). Prostitution in five countries: Violence and posttraumatic stress disorder. Feminism & Psychology, 8 (4), 405-426.

haha that was unexpected. SEE? IT'S FUN.

i'm moving in a week, hurrah! to a house in th gabba with a fireplace! fireplace yay!

meanwhile i'm having to let people wander through my current very private personal home to inspect it. not only that, there are pictures of it on th internets.

hey. STOP LOOKING AT MY STUFF. omg everyone can see my dirty dishes and what kind of deoderant I use. :(

also: I have myspace! ohnoes, but I have no friends. does anyone who uses livejournal go all overkill &use myspace too? I do because I sit bored at computers all night at work. if anyone else does tell me so I can add you and pretend I am popular. NOW.

out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
and I eat men like air

so! classes start this week.
...prompting the cessation of thought.

every now and then I become overwhelmed with the desire to cut everyone I know out my life. and everyone I don't. but I think I adore everyone I don't know a little bit more. like when strawberries taste like dust. teeny tiny flakes of skin and dead cockroach.

fairy floss & fairy bread
sulci and gyri
myopic rods and blue cones
prop open my spinal gateway

I am terrified of my own sclera

ain't it funny, that
pale-faced captivation could be
coupled with a bleak mouth, funereal
silence.

like when people on ICQ expect me to answer their black&white "wanna chat?"s

past creations generally have this talent for making me cringe. sometimes I can bring myself to recreate them.



the most adorable thing in the world is a yawning numbat. if you ever see it you'll know instantly why.

I made my nanna a website. get married. it is fun.

I can't pay my rent. I should be slightly concerned. instead I sway and giggle.
modest mouse make me smile.

edit: when Felon stalks geckos and sparrows and houseflies she does this very weird vibratey thing with her mouth. i've never seen any other cat do it (and i've seen lots of stalky cats). I call it rattling. well I shriek it rattling. I mean it fills me with so much glee to see her do it because it's so cute that I scream "she's rattling!!"

anyway? I just learned it has a name, and an evolutionary explanation! I am slightly thrilled.

k, it's 4am, if i'm not asleep within the hour i'll suffocate myself to get there, dammit.

I really, really need to _____. I am horribly frustrated.
HORRIBLY. and miserable. I wish I could be ragingly furious instead. ooo.

well I just got off the phone with Dennis.
I talk to him at least twice, thrice per day. if, for some reason, I don't answer my phone(s), he rings and rings them both until I do, leaving 10-20 messages. and SMSs. and emails. and comments on my livejournal. and messages on my friends' phones asking if they know where I am. and messages on my mumm's phone asking if she's spoken to me recently. etc.
okay he's only done those last few once or twice.

see, i'm his best friend. the only one who understands etc. the only one to whom he's completely opened up and poured etc. the love of his etc.
I broke up with him three+ months ago. sat cross legged, straight faced, empty chested, closed mouthed while he cried his fluttering, splattering heart all over the hardwood floor about his life now having no etc. thinking it'll be over soon. all this pandering. all this gentle petting. all this him.

but, but, but.

I was due to go to Cairns tomorrow, as I do 2-4 times per year. he lives in Cairns, now. he had all kinds of marvellous, best-friendly adventures planned for us, i'm sure. because when I tentatively informed him i'd had to push my flight back to next Monday for various uni-involved reasons, we had a minor repeat of the fluttering, splattering heart incident over the phone. but, see, it wasn't just that i'd be a week late. it was that I was annoyed at him for transferring $120 into my bank account so I could change the flight, again, to four days earlier. it was that, for some apparently insane and selfish reason, I just refused to do it.

"why would I?" I say. "you're not even my partner. you're just a friend. why should I move my flight ahead four measly days for you? there's no reason to. it's unnecessarily absurd. etc."

surely that is a sound argument, i'm thinking. surely it is reasonable.

because, although surely it is enough, it is not all!
the thing is... I do have selfish reasons for not doing it. selfish reasons i'm not telling him about. because what he doesn't know won't hurt him. and because i've promised him I won't <quote>see</unquote> anybody until after my trip to Cairns.

Friday night a semi-friend (as friendly as they get, to me) is having a costume housewarming rave, rave, rave.
and the crush of my life (read: crush of my present) will be there.
I have diabolical plans to spirit him to some dark corner and make him my night-long prey. either that or I have plans to gaze and mutely blush, etc.

sigh sigh.
I am evil. just so everyone knows.

now. I have 1,500 words to write by tomorrow.
and $20 worth of junk food to consume while doing so.
excuse me.

still waking up with permanence at 4am or earlier, despite th time AT WHICH I go to bed. but it's gorgeous, earliest morning, when even witches are dead to th world. i've coffee, crunchynut cornflakes, wrapped in a blanket under a heater with ren&stimpy, my house glowing from every eye. I feel lucky. I feel i've promise.

4hours later: I feel an idiot. I vaguely recalled one of my thesis group mentioning we were meeting at 9am rather than 11. so am at uni, on time, except that was LAST WEEK. we DID meet at 9. and this week we are meeting as usual at 11. sigh.

3hours later: what is wrong with me today? I feel so dissatisfied. I feel wrong. I feel lonely. I want desperately to bump into someone I know. I want to gorge. I want to drink. I want to smoke. I want to fuck. I want to run. I don't know what I want.. but it's something. and right now. I want it.

ugh! i'm so frustrated. dissatisfied. wrong.
I could leap out my skin.
I could scream out my lungs.
I feel like I need to be saved.

p.s. waking up in the early hours unable to go back to sleep is a SYMPTOM OF DEPRESSION.

4hours later: I must think of him more than he thinks of me.
perhaps.

I don't know! because, well.. he couldn't guess how often I think of him. so.. I can't.. guess...

on the surface, uh, from an alien point of view, it would seem he thinks of me. more. most of our contact is him-initiated.
but that's true of my contact with anyone!
it's just so often..

but I can't guess how often he thinks of me.
I hope it's heaps.

this isn't healthy.
I seem to have a habit for unhealthy relationships.

but this one!.. confuses me.
I have to stop thinking about it.

livejournal addendum: if you're one of the many! who could be reading this thinking it may be about you: i'll never te-ell.

I just realised how many! of you could have thought. wow. i'm in a lot of unhealthy relationships at the moment! yay! and I love you all. :D

lol I suck.

I get spams with subjects like "they're light-minded," "his closed eyelids," "the moonlight melted," "his confidence will ooze out if this situation does not olden," "satisfy blackburn denotative as any necrotic a nobody," "It's a fine aggregation, I assure you" and "skip the solid earth, and land lower down than I intended."

well, I did make them slightly prettier.

eyes perpetually squinted shut against the blast of sight
oh &! mouth perpetually open, just in case. well closing it may mean preventing the escape of some lovely utterance.
just in case I blow out.

I am studying. I am.

livejournal. I haven't had anything to say to you, lately. I find you strange & despicable. maybe 'cause i'm sick, but you know, I doubt it. probably because I haven't had anything to say (fullstop). you know! went to the doctor again & she said I either have a virus or a brain tumour. I wonder if I get to choose. here is something I wrote down weeks & weeks ago:

people who are constantly sick are usually sad, generally sad. all the invalid mothers who die young aren't loved by their husbands; all the sickly, weak & undersized children aren't loved by their mothers. people who die from cancer have repressed negativity, probably throughout their entire lives! if I could step into the day & heave a giant breath of sunsparkling air, throw my shoulders back & everything off them!

I never finished the thought. the current one is that I probably won't be updating. indefinitely.

it really wasn't supposed to be attacking her at all.. but embracing! that's what dozens of arms are for!
if I start to go mad.. I hope someone will tell me.

1. supercilious. far away from you. for a reason.
2. indifferent. any one will only knock at my door so many times before giving up & going a way to knock on some one else's.
3. purposely distracted. novels, movies, restaurants, vodka, reruns, study, sleep, a million kinds of pills.

won't taunt people with each other.
[will not cry in public//less chance of illness]

instead of writing my essay I drank a bottle of vodka & woke up to this in my notepad, minus about 99% because geez, the stuff you write when drunk:
first thoughts
trying to think of names
florence, venice, rome
I would go to Alexandria of all places if I had to choose right now
but I haven't been to enough to choose where i'd retire

about ten years/days ago i'd been crying. I can't remember why. but I was all alone, and cats don't know when you're sad even if stuffed spiders do, because stuffed spiders can't move or speak but they can blink once in a black & blue moon, just to let you know that if you happen to cry one day they'll know, and you're free to smother & drown them. when he knocked at the door everything that'd been on his face a second ago fell off it and the first thing he said was "are you okay?" but he didn't ask what was wrong, even when I didn't answer, he just kissed my face a million times, & all that was in my head was "sorry." ten minutes later, travelling behind two beams of light slower than they were every time i'd go to speak all that'd come out was a breath, & then a whole heap of them at once so I couldn't breathe at all

by the way. i'm sick of shampoo. want real poo.
[the universe is shaped exactly like the earth]

& it rather pisses me off when stupid australians & americans say "i'm never going to have a baby, 'cause the world's overpopulated anyway," & then use starving ethiopians as an example. but you stupid twits don't know what you're talking about, 'cause your population is declining. DECLINING. not having a baby isn't going to mean some starving ethiopian baby is going to get your nonexistent baby's share of overly artificially sweetened & gruesomely coloured cereal. so unless you're going to adopt a starving ethiopian baby, shut up.
if I was sober i'm sure i'd have a worthwhile argument. or no argument at all. I don't recall ever having arguments while sober.

this is an afterthought: