Thursday, November 22, 2007

Ketchup technology

I'm really, really looking forward to a day when it doesn't take my computer a good five or so minutes to get to get to this page.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

I guess I should take this opportunity to write some more of my story...

...But want to talk about my weird half awake dream last night instead.

I woke up very early in the morning...I'll hazard a guess and say 3am. It had been raining all night and we had the blinds and window open after the broiling couple of days we've had.

It was very odd because I don't really remember waking up gradually. I woke up suddenly, sat straight up in bed and turned to look at our tallboy-cum-dresser which is dominated by a medium sized ornamental mirror. It's also home to other bibs and bobs like an oil burner, a jewellery box, framed pictures and a vase or two. Lots of crapola ends up there too of course; Like P's crappy train from Preston Market, deodorant, glassess, bits of paper, burned out candles, empty tampon boxes, used condoms...

Just kidding about the tampon boxes.

Yaanyway, amongs these everyday things, I saw about five or so fairies.

Now I'm probably sounding a bit nutso, friend of the faeries, brian froundish maybe? But let me try and explain.

I guess it's a bit like the classic overcoat-thrown-over-the-chair-which-looks-like-someone-sitting-there scenario.

This was a bit more bizarre as the faces and the bodies of these 'wee folk' were extremely detailed although I should mention they were also static. They definitely appeared real and 3 dimensional but they weren't moving about or anything. Now that I am trying to recall them to describe them I'm having real trouble remembering those details. Nonetheless, the one I remember the most had a child's face in profile and was wearing an oversized top hat. Another was sitting on the edge of the tallboy with it's long legs dangling over the side and there was a smiling one leaning its (her?) chin on its hands.

I felt like I was fully awake but I was wondering how they got in so I must have been dreaming to think these cerazy thoughts? I began to realise that, um, I don't think fairies actually exist and that's when they started to vanish, or rather, become the ordinary everyday things they actually were. The smiling fairy turned into a trick of light reflecting off a framed photo. The fairy with the dangling legs became the roll-on deodorant with an end of a scarf hanging down.

The little boy fairy with the oversized hat was the last to go. But little by little his cherubic cheek transformed into a kink in the plaster of the mirror frame. I could still see the top hat for a while, even though I knew it was just the diamond shaped tile.

I wasn't scared at all, just fascinated.

Now, I might as well admit that this isn't the first time this has happened. In fact, it was a bit of a regular occurence when I was little, mainly, although I had one last 'visit' when I was about nineteen when I woke up to see long haired people sitting in the neighbours tree. Again, it was like wow - what are they doing there? Hang on a minute it's 2 in the morning, this mustn't be real - oh, it's not...

Even when I was little I would dismiss it as dreaming or half dreaming. I never really believed that what I saw was real.

There is really one stand out encounter however..

I was about seven or eight and shared a room with my sister. We had bunk beds and I was on the bottom one. I remember feeling very restless and inexplicably frightened and jittery while I was waiting for sleep to come. Around this time I saw a face in a dim spotlight on the wall opposite our beds. It's all a bit hazy but I think I yelled out for mum or dad who were still up watching tv. Dad probably came down and told me 'to think of Peter Pan' which was his stock standard phrase in these incidents. Then I'm pretty sure I went to sleep.

Much later (I'm guessing) I woke up suddenly and saw figures in a semi circle on the other side of the room. There was a main figure in the middle of the circle flanked by two drummers. I remember even hearing the drums. The scariest thing was that the figure in the middle was holding some kind of knife.

I should try and explain what they looked like. They were pretty much completely see-through and looked like they were drawn in the air with a dim, feathery white chalk...I've always found it hard to describe this effect (I've told this story about 100 times I think!).

And they were definitely Aztec. I probably wouldn't have said that at the time as I'm sure I didn't know what an Aztec was, but yeah, they had the large head-dresses and when I see an Aztec drawing I am definitely reminded of the figures I saw.

I was seriously so scared I couldn't scream. I tried to but nothing was coming out. I distinctly remember losing my breath and almost passing out. Then I found my voice and screamed the bloody house down. All of a sudden the room was a blaze of light as Dad came in.

I don't remember bawling but I'm sure I was. I couldn't go back to sleep in the bedroom so Dad made a bed up for me on the couch in the lounge-room. (Meanwhile my mum was just pissed off with another interrupted night's sleep - I can totally empathise now!). My Dad got a mattress and made a bed for himself on the floor next to me and I finally relaxed. My little Mesoamerican friends hadn't left though. They were everywhere around the room. I remember two standing sentinal-like near the front window and one was crouched over the television with a quizzical look like, how does this contraption work?

My father passed away almost four years ago so I can't ring him up and pick his brain about that night. I'm sure I've brought it up but he's never really verified it. In fact my mother says she can't remember the night at all which I find very strange. If it wasn't for my sister and brother then I would be a bit worried that this memory is planted and I'm gonna wake up in a pod with wires hanging out, this post is long and i'm getting tired. Anyway, my sister remembers the night vividly so at least the memory is real...the jury is still very out on whether what I saw was something supernatural or just the result of a very, very active imagination.

Just to finish this off, the reason why I know Brian Fround's name is because I have his 'Fairy Oracle' a tarot card set which I bought on impulse due to the stunning artwork. I've never really used them and had to find them while writing this post so I could spell his name correctly...Guess where they were?

On top of the tallboy...oooeeer! spooky!

I think he should use this as a pick up line in 15 or so years.

This morning P (three and a half) had a little stiffy which he was proudly showing off.

"There's fun in my doodle!"

I'm sure there is son, I'm sure there is.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

Coffee, or should I say Mow-ka

I like Mocha, as in chocolate in my caffe latte. This all started after my first trimester where I went totally off me lattes and cigarettes (which was very handy or I honestly don't think I would have given up).

After the 12 weeks were up I gradually began to crave coffee again. I think I even began to crave the cigarettes too but had the will power to pretend they still totally grossed me out.

I still couldn't face a normal coffee so began ordering mochas. It's been over four years and I think I've still only had a couple of coffees without chocolate...and, honestly, they were mistakes where the waiter/waitress misheard or misunderstood me. I just can't go back and have become a bit of a mocha connoisseur.

I generally have a mocha every day and it's really funny to see how different cafe staff react. I must admit, when I first started to have mocha it honestly seemed a bit different and there were more than a few occasions I had to kind of describe what a mocha was! Now it seems like it's become really popular. I think I started a trend, actually. It was all me.

Erherm, well anyway, I've had some really, really fantastic ones. Birdman Eating springs instantly to mind as making one of the best mochas I've had for a while. Dark chocolate, really strong coffee yet I only had to use half a sugar. Really appreciated it. Appetite in North Melbourne served a particularly nice one too. I've had really shit ones of course. Weak, tepid coffee with chocolate syrup.

This week I found myself in Degraves Street. I used to frequent this too cool for school cafe spot, well, frequently a few years ago and thought I'd go to one of my ol' haunts Degraves Espresso. As soon as I walked in and was greeted with an icily cool stare from the staff I realised why I hadn't been there for a good seven or so years. The staff are rude.

I hate that! As well as just the simple reason that it is pretty unpleasant when someone is rude to you, I also hate it because I end up overcompensating. Like the incredible Hulk but in reverse, my Bruce Banner always wins and I end up seething inside but come over all kow-towery on the outside.

So this is what happens. I walk into Degraves and ask to get a coffee (which is the way I remember ordering before - also I was a bit tired and vague too so wasn't thinking much). The waiter who looked a bit like an amalgamation of these dickheads

(we'll call him Dude) just stares rudely back at me and says in a monotone American accent,

'We do table service'.

So what do I do?

'Oh right!' guffaw a bit and go obediently to a table.

Then, I guess because Dude's hipness and coolness is proven to be vastly superior to mine now, he waits a minute or so to come out and take my order. Not only that, he approaches another girl who has just sat down. She tells him she needs a minute so he's got no choice but to come and take my order. When I tell him I'd like a mocha, he sneers 'Mooowka' as he writes it down.

It takes a while. Infact I don't know how long he's been but I decide to give him five more minutes and if I don't get my coffee, I'm walking. I actually don't want it to come but just as I start to put my book away, A girl brings out my mocha and she smiles at me! She's friendly but the coffee is gross. Strong bitter coffee with clumps of undissolved powdered chocolate. Of course I can't take it back. I'm a wuss and intimidated. They did it on purpose. The Dude and his mate making the coffee think I'm a dork and they have conspired to make this hideous Mowka!

Then something amazing happens.

I stir in the chocolate and it's a bit nicer. Actually, I don't have to add sugar. Actually, I'm sorry to say Birdman but I think it's superceded yours.

I will write indepth about my paronoid delusions in a future post, I promise!

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

I've started my story!

Nice and early, I've still got a full three and a bit months to finish it.

Oh, I haven't mentioned it yet, but I am now entering the Women's Weekly Writing Competition which is due around the middle or end of February. I'm actually using the 'b story' of my novel idea so we'll see how it goes. It's a bit of a ghost story and not sure how it's going to hold up by itself.

I'm definitely one of those writers who really has no idea where something is going til it's pretty much finished. Maybe that's why I've found it so hard to call myself a writer and why procrastination comes so easily. Anyway, I'm really glad that I've pushed myself as I realise how bloody easy it is to fall into a slump of the just can't be fuckeds.

I found myself thinking all sorts of negative things when I was off doing my errands today. For instance I went down that very well worn neural highway that likes to tell me I've left it all too late. That this procrastinating, unfulfilled LAZY person is me, I'll never change. Everyone else who has ever made it is a great go-getter. Everything just comes so easily to 'them'.

Oh, and yeah, just to rub the ol' salt in I started pondering on the idea that maybe something happens neuralogically after, say the age 35, where your creative drive - if you haven't been exercising it (like moi hasn't) - just dies and that's it...sorry you missed your chance. by two years.

Of course I can back this up scientifically

Alls good now though mate!

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Entertaining a three year old does yer 'ead in

Oh, yes indeedy...

Today at breakfast.

P: Mummy?

Actually for some reason, even though we are Australian, Pascal says "Mommy", so lets start that again...

P: Mommy?

Me: Yes Pascal.

P: Mom?

Me: Yes, what is it?

P: Moooommmmy!

Shows me a sinister little parcel of chewed up raisin toast.

Me: Mmm, that looks good.


Me: Yes what is it Pascal.

P: What happened?

Me: I don't know. You tell me what happened.

P: What happened?

Me: Turning back to my paper.
I didn't see, how about you tell me what happened.

Pascal puts both hands on either side of my face and gently but firmly turns it so I am looking directly into his eyes.

P: Mommy...what happened?

Pascal, Oh master of repetative questioning, you and only you can tell me what happened.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

Tired out of my brain

I've been working on a post for the last half hour - it got a bit complicated. It's about religion.

All of a sudden I was hurtled back to my uni days of 13 or so years ago. Typing late into the night the day before the 3,000 word essay was due. After the deadline was extended. Twice.

Anyway, it started off pretty well but it was all gobbly gook towards the end. I hate it when my brain becomes befuddled. I know what I want to say but can't quite get it out.

It's status is 'Draft'. I hope it will one day see the light.

Religion - Light. get it? get it?

I can't believe I've impinged on my Heroes viewing pleasure...