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4月7日
- I've never had much exposure to highly genderfucked people, but when I watched Chris Crocker's video about Codependency I had a pause for thought. While its no secret to myself that I crave validation and that I can feel very weak without it, I didn't consider whether this was indicative of anything more than a little negligible personality trait. But do I fail to love myself? Probably, and its very much my custom when i'm feeling down to bolster myself with unrealistic and narcissistic fantasies of being famous, or revered, or powerful- rather than just being myself. Which is why today, when I walked away from work after a day involving an altercation with my colleagues and no less than a heated argument with one in particular, I was shocked that I walked away, not embarassed, not regretful, but embolded by some sense of solidity or identity. Today was the first time I thought that I was all needed to be happy.
- Do you want to know what the altercation with my colleagues was about? A drunk man came into my work, he ordered some coffee and sat down, and then couldn't hear us when we called it out for him, and when he did he staggered up and took it, offering to pay for it although he already had, and seeming not to hear our responses. He lurched around his table and looked like he was going to fall, but he didn't. Anyway, the police rocked up- some customers had called it. I was furious- this man wasn't bothering anyone, he didn't smell, he wasn't doing anything unlawful or even offensive. However, what he did serve as was an ugly blot of poverty on a consumer heaven horizon, which obviously offended against the ettiquette protocol ettiquette of some idiot, whose sense of social justice is so far up their ass it's broiling with their latte. It ended with me arguing my case, no one really being convinced by it but arguing back all the same, and me feeling only a little bit proud for not backing down on my opinions. I got on with the workers after that, so I guess I've got away with not suffering for my opinions.
- Right now I'm not academic. But for magical intervals during the day my mind is livewired.
- My favourite symbol of the moment is a medicross. I'd love it tattooed somewhere on my body where you can see it- somehow, deep down, there's a medibot in me, who was engineered with the duty to heal.
4月2日
- Money makes the world go round. Does it make your head go round too? I'm sure that the cashed-up middle class soccer mums who come in to me for coffee don't think money drives their existence, but when I look in their eyes, one after another, each of them breaking a $50 dollar note to pay for a $3.60 cup of coffee, I see differently. These people stroll round the city in a state of respectable, fashionable cleanliness, daydreaming of yachts and horse races. They chat about their mortgages and credit ratings with their best friends on their glittering mobile phones, and see the world in utter technicolour grandeur: pink and orange cosmetics, gold and silver Guess bags, green and blue AMEX cards. They mutter a coffee order, get pissed off with you for asking them to repeat it, and then won't look at you when they're handing over their money. You hand their coffee to them, and fifteen minutes later they will come back, complaining that the coffee is warm. We'll make it again, but drink it immediately this time, you plastic slab of filth. If you spend your time harassing hospitality workers for contributing to a momentary dip in the state of absolute fabulousness that is your life, then I can tell you're not thinking about Sudan, China, or Cambodia. And every time one of you rich sluts pays out a passing Aborigine I would love to remind you that its in their place that you're living the good life, and at their expense that you are rich.
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