LJ used to be the bastion of internet based procrastination in my life. Somewhere along the line (roughly a year ago) I felt the need to keep posting here lessen. Even though I barely post, I still care dearly, and read at length EVERY post on my friends page.

I do feel the need to post an update now (for those who don't have to read my blather elsewhere) in light of the few exciting turns life has taken in the past few months...

* Say hello to a bonafide fool. Yes, I am a student AGAIN. Albeit, a Masters student. I have just started a Master of Arts (Creative Writing) by Research at RMIT. What that means is that I get to write a novel and an accompanying research dissertation which pretends to make me sound like I know what I'm doing (do any of us, ever!??!). Not only that, but it means the government pays my tuition, and I get an excuse to be an actual writer professionally, and get regular publication. That ALONE excites me. Is that sad?

* As a result of the Masters, I got to cut my hours at work to Part Time, 3 evenings a week, where I'm being paid almost as much as I was for Full Time. It's more relaxing, friendly, and interesting of a night - and as a bonus, the novelty element of pattern plays a big part in keeping me smiling...
Every 2nd call is for Pizza,
Every 3rd call is for Thai, and...
Every 4th call is for an Adult Service.

We've taken to emulating the noise of a siren after every 'Adult Service' request...

* Chris and I have started a band, and done some recording. You can find our new Myspace here... We are called (just click the link), and we've already had an interesting few days - including interest in one of our songs by a UK indie label... nothing will probably come of it, but it's flattering...

so kurt vonnegut died.
that sucks.
now it's slaughterhouse 4, right?

i'm off to see rowland s howard (ex birthday party, and general bad-arse) at the tote tonight.

and i figure i should post a picture from a couple of months back, because it's funny, it's how i look now, and it's pretty much how i feel!!!

worst birthday ever.
i hate my job, it can go to hell.
i love my neighbourhood.
i love my house.
i love my friends.
i love my family.

but fuck it all, sometimes i feel so damn lonely.

Haven't posted on here in a fair while... again, just not too comfortable with airing dirty laundry on LJ.

I've been hitting the bottle a lot lately. Liquid therapy - liquid retribution. I have to play this game out before my body revolts into the land of the hangover. It's a little sily really.

Did a big tidy of the house earlier today - from underneath the sink I pulled at least 8 empty wine bottles.

I made my room more habitable. I put my candles out. A bedside table. Put up my clothes rack. Shit i've put off doing because i've been too busy of a weekend. My couch comes tomorrow at about 10.30am... so that's when snuggling season begins. I need fresh flowers.

Watch this trail off into a haze of inane shit as i avoid the real issues and continue along with my head in the sand.

I want to see Yann Tierson at the Corner Hotel in November, and seeing as tickets are $28, I think I can even afford it.

Things here are good. Had a biz-zay weekend here with Chris and Nick. Fuelled by MUCH alcohol, especially Friday night :S. On Saturday we did a handful of music stores, and then hit the town with Nick's cousin, only to end up at some too-trendy place in St Kilda where drinks were $8 each. So we left that place and I took them to Pony in the city, and we were more at home, and we drank and I got a harem of 18 year old boys and we got sleepy and went home and then we ate eggs and laughed and fun was had.

On another note - MUUUUSTACHE!


I'm needing a shake up. I know what I want, but now i'm just trying to figure out how to do it.

Note to self: Getting drunk on the rocks at St Kilda beach (I choose Asti) on a Tuesday night is not the best idea when planning for work the next day. It is, on the other hand, a very fun diverson. Hello old self.

Fark.

I've hit the bottle big time this week.

Everything is going brilliantly. Tomorrow hits 30 degrees.
Everything they say is true.
Everything in it's right place.

Oh, and PS:

For those people who think that it's OK to prune the trees out front of your terrace house at 12am...

THINK AGAIN.
I just got the fright of my life when I thought my house was being burgled. I was shaking, I called Meaghan (who was sleeping at the time) and woke her up to only find out that my next door neighbour's landlord thinks that it's OK to prune the shrubs with a noisy handsaw at 12am.

I could fall in love with a pilot
Just for a minute
I’d steal all his badges
And make him burn his bridges
Tie him to the tracks on the wrong side of town
Cut him at the knee and taunt ’now how you gonna get around?’
He’d spit and he’d shake
But then surely I’d know
He’d be there sitting still
With bandaged knees
When I get home

Lose a little in my dreams
half a human when I wake
pull him from the tracks
and pour him a drink
laugh about the times
he knew I was wrong
he knew I was wrong
yet he still played along

Pull his bones from the cupboard
where they can rattle no more
hand him sheets of white
for his paper planes

Where are you going, my love
I fold him back up

A quick update as i'm a bit pressed for time at the moment...

I moved into the new house yesterday evening, and it was a trial getting stuff over there. I did it all by taxi. I went a bit weird last night - i need company. I can't do this living alone thing. I'll send myself nuts. I need a house buddy til Chris gets down here.

Still no job. Bank balance hath dwindled. Will take any offer this week. So poor. Look stupidly thin. Just not me.

Need. Job. Must. Pay. Bills.

Hopefully the gas guy will come and i wont have to spend another night without heat, hot water, or any way to cook.

Who says you have to go to the country to rough it, baby?

It hath come to my attention that I don't much like pants.

GOODBYE CANBERRA.

HELLO MELBOURNE.

In between the four things i'm doing at once, the three with my left hand and the one with my right (ah! the perils of being ambidextrous!) i've managed to begin reading about 4 books at once. The best of these is "The Wasp Factory", which is very very awesome, and much kudos goes to the lovely boy who bestowed it on me. I'm also devouring an old favourite called "All The Little Animals", which is only a novella, but packs a brilliant amount if content into its deceptively small and generically packaged volume.

"I'm ravenous at the moment Fran. I seem to be devouring books whole..."

Did the post office thing and got my address changed so that as of Tuesday, i'll officially be a Victorian. Again, that makes me part happy, part nauseous.

Got a brain-fuck in the post office when i looked up and saw dumbfuck new manager of bookshop lining up. I pretended (very maturely - i might add) to be so set upon by paperwork so he wouldn't/couldn't dare distract me.

Four nights left in this city.
I ask what it hold for me.

Can I get a "HELL YEAH" from anyone else who feels like arse after last night.

Not that I mind at all.

The customers, on the other hand, have been giving me crazy filthy dirty looks all morning.

It must be my refreshing musk smell. :/

shell shock (~noun):

1. Trauma based mental episode, usually set off by bomb-like loud noises.

Stop it with the motherfucking firecrackers in my front yard.

Just because you need to feel all powerful and explode-y for a few days, doesn't mean i need to catch your gunpowder ejaculation.

All the pets you love, and pretend to love, are scared out of their souls.

What for? To celebrate a fat old inbred English woman, born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and a crowbar up her arse.

So, the awesome job that I applied for in Melbourne called me at about 9am this morning, just as we were opening the shop. They offered me a job - and asked if I could come in this week to meet some people and do some interviews with them. Having to tell these people (and this job was amazingly good - a small bookshop in Melbourne CBD - 7 hours a day) that I couldn't because i'm still captive in Canberra until the 26th was HARD to say the least.

I'm not sure if it's a positive or a negative. On the one hand, it was the first job i applied for down there, and on the other hand, it might have just been a fluke. The latter is definitely most likely.

I miss everyone. I don't like being all alone in a shell of work and nothing.much.else. Give me the pleasure of your company.

So, i'm massively (supermassively?) disappointed in Muse. They're right up there in my favourite bands list, i've seen them live 2 times, and now, they reward me with THIS FILTH of a single.

It's like Britney Spears raping Darren Hayes, while he's being taken up the arse by Prince.

It's so bad. It makes my insides hurt.

And all the time i'm remembering the excitement I felt when they finally released Stockholm Syndrome, which was the opposite to this complete piece of shit.

It's called 'Supermassive Balck Hole'.

I think it's because that's where it belongs.

I just got a cheque in the mail for $85.

Apparently it was the last money owed to me from Collins.

What the hell is happening? Why is everybody throwing money at me?

not feeling particularly zen today - anzac day, as it is here.

the story gets more screwy every year: are we commemorating the landing at gallipoli, soldiers dying, the end of conscription, the intoxication of factions of young suburban boys and girls "oh people died on a turkish peninsula, so let's play 2-up and eat some anzac biscuits and pretend to wave the flag about while we simultaneously wipe our arses on it by behaving like f**kwits..."???

maybe there is something zen in there, i mean, john howard waves the flag he never fought for while the people who really fought for their lives, the people who were conscripted by the government to give over their soul, sit and laugh playing 2-up in the German club.

in the end, the ones who lived - and the ones who died all got their bits of metal.

some got bullets, some got medals.

i watched at least twenty young men scamper past me, coats-a-buttoned and medals shining, and not for a second did i feel any better in the knowledge that some poor f**ker half a world over got his equivalent displayed on his chest too.

Dear all -

Things are going alright. I am back home in Schmanberra, the plane was OK, except (of course!) for the incident on the plane where I dangled a noisy little brat over the toilet and threatened to flush him from the plane if he didn't shutthafuckup.
For the record, he did not heed my warning, and his parents are currently picking his splattered remains off the snowy mountains, mixed with various amounts of faeces and the light snow that has been falling there...

I found a couple of gorgeous little places in Melbourne, and i'm yet again having a lusty love affair with Carlton. Each day, Meaghan, (or Sarah) and I would walk past numerous old terrace houses with ornate front's and i'd whine about how i'd love one for myself.
I found a perfect two bedroom-er that is available in a month, and if anyone wants to share it with me for 6 months or so until Chris moves down... well, i'd be delighted and do a jig right here on the spot. It's $280 a week (about $80 out of my price range...) and i'd be happy to pay more than half of it.

Of course that means that I need a job down there, but I knew that, and you and your semantics are not wanted here. Hermph!

My last impression of Melbourne was provided by a rather ill old man, who stumbled into the path of my tram as i alighted it at Spencer Street station. After dropping his backpack and pulling the doors back open, the tram slowly slank away, and two police men sniffed about me. I bit:

"Are you looking for the guy who just got on the tram?"

They nodded, and one of them picked up his (obviously soiled!!!) orphaned backpack.

"He wasn't looking too well, I think he was pretty messed up..."

They looked up at me, and then at each other...

"Thanks for that, Miss. I think we'll follow that tram."

They ran towards the tram which was slowly pressing down Spencer Street, and my last impression before getting onto the Skybus was of the poor old man being *forcefully* ejected and *roughed up* a bit.

First impressions may be fleeting, but last impressions do take some beating...

Take care,
<3 Love from
Sarah

so, looks like i'll be at dylan moran in melbourne.

maybe again with chris in sydney.

things are looking up, alriiiight.