Do My Feet Look Fat In These?

Weeee, new shoes.


Don't think I'm a famewhore, I just wanted to know if I look mannish in my new Birkenstocks.

Verdict?

(Also, now you see my weird toes. *sigh* Why do I put things like this up on the internet? And Jes, before you say anything, my second toes do not normally poke past my big ones. That's just an angle issue. So ner.)

Lakes and Everything Else

So, what have I been doing lately? Apart from writing long posts and having them be somehow deleted? Wow, I'm really annoyed with blogger right now. I shall try to make this post as interesting as the one that just got eaten, shall I? Argh.

Well, yesterday we wandered around Södertälje, not buying the Birkenstocks that I set out to buy (they were rather pricey, and Ash said to check in Stockholm) nor buying the memory card for my camera that I wanted. Never mind, wandering around looking is fun, too. I've decided on the Birkenstocks as it's bloody hot here, and every seasoned traveller needs a pair, or so I've been told. Nice and sturdy and will last a trek around the place. Besides, I can get away with wearing them (can't I?) and they're comfy, so why not?

Of course Mum thinks that I should get a pair. Mums are always in favour of sturdy shoes, I think. Hee. I hope they don't look too mannish. Well, I'll post them when I buy them and you can tell me.

Right! So after wandering, we went for a nice long swim at the lake behind Ash's house. Here's a photo Ash took for me in Spring.



Of course, that's a rather dark photo, we were swimming in the late afternoon, so this next one is slightly more relevant. Mm, pretty lake.



We splashed around happily for about an hour, despite my irrational fear that something would emerge from the depths and eat me. What? The damn lake is all dark and deep! Besides, I've grown up in a country that has nasty things in dams. Like leeches as long as your hand! But this lake had none of those things, thankfully. It did, however, have some puppies jumping in and out and splashing around at another 'beach.'

When we got out, we discovered that our stuff was near a wasps nest. The kind that attack you. One kept landing on my leg, which made me freak out and scream like a girl, to which Ash replied 'Don't antagonise it, or it'll sting you!' Right. Don't be alarmed that the wasp is about to bite me!

Today we went into Stockholm, and walked around Old Town. I love that place. Especially the Science Fiction Bokhandeln. I resisted the new Carey (but it was so shiny!) and watched a couple of guys playing with the lightsabres (that whoosh and crackle when you swing them). I also resisted buying Spidey comics. Good me.

We also picked up some white chocolate Reese's Pieces. God damn those things are tasty. Add that to the huge delicious expensive ($8!) gelati, and you have yourself a sugar high.

Overhauled Again

Thanks to everyone for having a look at that piece that I put up the other day. I got some really good feedback, and have made a couple of changes and polished it up a fair bit. I think it's working much better now, anyway!

If anyone hasn't read the copy I sent them yet and still feels like giving it a go, let me know and I'll send the newer version, if you like!

I'm rather excited about this piece, actually, it's probably the best thing I've written since my Fiction classes last year. For some reason, even though I've only read a modest amount of sci-fi, the ideas for such stories always stay with me for a while. Interesting, eh?

Thanks again for feedback! Let me know if you want to look at the new one!

Here's a bit more of an excerpt:

Had he the sensory upgrade required, William would have been assailed by the stench that flooded the morgue. Vern, the ship’s reluctant mortician, had a cloth clamped tightly to his nose and mouth. His fat cheeks were red from the effort of attempting to survive without breathing in and his floppy blond hair once again escaped the comb-over that he orchestrated each morning with a great deal of ceremony.

‘WIL544, there you are.’ His rusted voice almost made the serial number into a name. ‘Strip the body and begin, hmm?’ Vern slipped aside his cotton mask for as long as it took to sneak a sip out of his dull metal hip-flask. His eyes were bright with the fortification.

‘Order acknowledged,’ said William in a monotone, moving to where the corpse lay on a smooth metal trolley. A crate gone awry, he surmised. The body, a young man in his twenties, perhaps, had been crushed by something unusually heavy, hence the shattered left leg and pelvis. The poor boy had shit his pants before he died. It certainly accounted for the smell. His lower belly, too, had been caught. William saw a tangle of grey guts and blood instead of a navel. The segmented clear-plastic hands that he used for everyday work were soon smeared with offal as he removed the uniform and underwear from the body. A glance at the still face showed that the boy hadn’t shaved this morning, as regulation required. The young ones always did like to dodge the rules.

Life was so fleeting for these frail human bodies, he thought. Just a slip here and a nudge there and a crate could destroy all. Worse still was living to witness one’s own slow decay, to outgrow life and love as if it were a layer of skin to be shed. Humans should live no longer than butterflies, given no time to form families or to watch the breakdown of their own bodies, given nothing but a short, happy life and then oblivion. This one had been swatted early, had tasted life and then had it cruelly knocked aside. But was it better to be fused from cold metal and endlessly maintained? William would have upgrades indefinitely, as long as they weren’t too expensive and he functioned as he should.

Hadn’t he seen this boy at breakfast a few times? Not that William ate, no. He was often pressed into serving, though. Two days ago, or perhaps three, the boy had asked for an extra helping of bacon. But he hadn’t made the request a command. No, the boy had allowed William a rare privilege, a chance to exercise his judgement. Of course, William had acceded, thankful for the attention. And now the boy was crushed like a bug on a cold steel bed, wings of blood unfurled for all to see.

My Illegal Trip to Finland

So, Finland ended up being pretty cool. I even learned how to spell 'Jyväskylä' which makes me feel speshel. (And now I'm hoping to bob that I actually did spell it right...) It's pronounced 'Ya-vas-ky-lah' for the curious. We actually didn't stay there, but we went through it on the way to Turvo, which is a little tiny village in the country, way way way way north. I was the most north I'd ever been.

The ferry ride over there was fairly good, we got on the boat, dumped our stuff, had a look around, played some roulette, (I won 90 Euro, or $150AU) and ate a meal that was priced by weight. Then we slept and got up disgustingly early to meet Ash's father after a 6 hour bus ride. I think it was six, anyway. It's all a nasty blur. I've discovered that it's really difficult to use a bathroom in a moving bus.

All that aside, the cabin was all rustic and cool. It smelled a bit funny as nobody actually lives there, but we almost made it normal by the time we got home. Actually, it smelled very strongly of mosquito repellant. Snail was right, Finnish mosquitos are little fuckers, and apparently they weren't as bad as they usually are. Here's the outside, anyway.



Most of the time was spent reading or playing on the laptop (there was no running water, but was power, so laptop came to play too) or wandering around randomly eating the chocolate we got on the ship. It was all very relaxing and nice, really. We'd go into the little village every day for supplies (and ice cream) and even braved the lake for a swim. It was bloody freezing with a wind, so I chickened out and went and sunbathed instead. Ash was being all tough and actually did swim. Good for her.

Here's a picture of the modern bathroom. It was pretty stinky, and filled with mozzies. The again, it was better than some facilities I've found in nightclubs, so there you go.



There you are then. What amused me most was the fact that there were two little places to sit, just in case you felt like doing yout business with a friend. Which is something I would never wish to do, ever.

And now that I've written about the least pleasant part of our stay, I shall counter it with telling of the most pleasant, which was the sauna. Oh, the sauna. It was even better on days that were cold. It was built in the 1930s we think, and is rather large.



Sure, you had to duck to get into the door, but mmm, the heat. It took hours to build up, but Ash's Dad did all the work. Mwaha. Thankfully, he had a go and then went off so Ash and I could use it. So this is what you do in the sauna:

• Get nekkid and splash water all over yourself.
• Sit around in the heat and chuck water onto the coals, making fantastic sizzling noises.
• Get too hot and wander outside for fresh air.
• Go back in, splash more water and whack yourself with birch leaves to help blood circulation.
  
• Wash hair and the rest of you.
• Come outside and splash each other with freezing water from the pump.
  

It gets you amazingly clean, though.

And then we'd cook kransky sausages over the camp fire on sticks. All very tasty, actually.

So, the ferry back was way less fun. We drove all night to get to the dock at 8am. *shudder* That was horrible, of course. We ended up sleeping most of the morning and then getting up to play roulette again (I lost, and got grumpy, but Ash did quite well) and then purchased Jäger from duty-free. Num. Made me feel ill when I mixed it with coke in our cabin, though. Maybe it was just the motion of the ship?

Oh, and this:



Mm! Drink's!

Thus ends the report from Finland.

New York, New York and Other Places

I've booked my hostel for my Night Alone in New York. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm arriving a day before everyone else, and am staying in a hostel before I move into the apartment that we've organised. I'm looking forward to the apartment, because I'm sure it will involve a lot of laughing, drinking and probably watching certain television shows.

Anyway, the hostel I've booked seems to have some mixed reviews. It was renovated in 2006, and it seems that it has gotten better since then... And how bad can it be for just a single night? I'm sure it'll be more than fine. Thanks to Heather, I sussed out the neighbourhood. It's near Columbia University, which means lots of cheap places to eat and things like that. I'm sure I'll have fun wandering around looking at things.

That's the kind of traveller I am. I much prefer to look around a city at ground level and establish myself as a part of it. Attractions are all well and good, but I can be utterly entertained by strolling the streets and having a bite to eat here and a drink there. I suppose it comes from living for a time in a city that doesn't really have any proper attractions. But such a vibrant and interesting city to explore! And such wonderful company in which to do so.

Of course, before I go, there's tomorrow's trip to Finland. After that, Ash and I are heading over to England once again to hang out with Sky. Hooray! I hope we can fit in a little meet or something while we're there. It's always excellent to catch up with the Brits.

So, this will be my last entry for a while, for I'm off to the Finnish wilds! Not to worry, I might be able to sneak onto the ferry's internet connection to let you all know that I'm alive and kicking.

Rough Draft

So, for lack of anything interesting to blog about, here's some of the draft I was working on today. I've finished the first one, and hope to make it spectacular, and enter it in a comp.

If you'd like to see the full piece, email me and it shall be yours.

The church roof was swallowed in darkness, defying the light that streamed in through the stained-glass windows. This was an old place, a sacred place, and William could feel the sanctity oozing out of the old stone walls. He stopped for a moment at one of the worn wooded pews and ran a hand over the carvings that decorated the edges. It was simple, beautiful, and utterly beyond his skill. The windows were equally masterful. The saints stood in humble poses, their faces pious and their hands clasped. It was amazing, he thought, what man could accomplish when inspired by the divine.

The rich, carved confession boxes were made from the same dark wood as the pews. Perhaps they had even been fashioned by the same patient hand, William could not be certain. His slow footsteps rang as he walked to the confessional booths, all at once in awe of the quiet and aware of his disruption to it. There was something, he pondered, about church-quiet that was different to normal quiet. The air seemed to carry a certain dignity, as if it hung around a learned man on the verge of dispensing incalculable wisdom. It was a sober hush, a peace that had not been broken by anything more violent than Mrs Simmon’s straining soprano.

A soft cough sounded from the confession booth, confirming the existence of a priest inside. Perhaps today, William thought. Today might be the day when his confession was properly heard, and not dismissed out of hand. William swung open the door, and sat in the comforting, still darkness. I, who cannot remember a womb am at home here. Safe. He pulled in one long breath and once more reminded himself to speak carefully. He would not allow a slip-up. He could not. The priest shifted on his hard wooden bench.

‘Bless me father, for I have…’

‘Enough.’

There it was, done before it had even begun. William was aware of a pressure in his chest. He felt like howling, but he was certain that it wasn’t allowed.

‘You know you are not welcome here,’ said the priest, gently chiding. ‘How could you have sinned if you have not the weight of a soul?’

‘I…’ William could not speak. It had been his voice, he decided. The electronic hum was far too obvious, even when he made a conscious effort to control it. ‘I am burdened, father.’

‘No,’ said the priest sadly. ‘You are not. Now go.’ And with that, he stepped out of his side of the booth and disappeared into the church. William heard him leave, but lingered all the same, watching the dim patterns of light slide over his synthetic skin.

‘Order acknowledged,’ He said to himself in a very sad, small voice that buzzed like a cheap answering machine. With that, he gathered himself up and left.

Failure. The church melted away to be replaced by an orderly Buddhist temple, presumably at the request of the crewmember who had booked the space next. What now? O’Leary might be off duty; maybe he’d have that new program that stimulated carnal pleasure. William took a savage delight in infecting himself with illegal programs. They took plenty of processing power and left his joining cables numb for hours at a time. He was half-way back to his small room and still pondering when he heard the bleeping of a crewman’s request on the inside of his metal skull. He tapped a finger thrice against his temple, to allow the memo to be cleared for reading.

Something Inside Just Died

...at the thought of this.

Oh, if only I had discovered it before my Year 12 Literature class!

My teacher would never have recovered, I guarantee it.

I Want...

The Absolution tour DVD. I've seen a bit of it online, and it looks absolutely magnificent.

I'll probably buy it when I wander over to America, where DVDs and such are slightly cheaper than here.

And I'm only posting my wants because I can't think of anything interesting to blog about. Ash and I took a trip into Södertälje today. Interesting? I saw a guy bottle fountain water (ick) and then mix it with vodka in the park.

See, posting about my wants is much more interesting.

Another Trip to Oldtown

The tourists flock to Oldtown, probably because it is the only place in which you can both purchase Reese's Pieces and take in a 13th century church in the space of five minutes. I felt slightly out of place as I ambled down the bright street, as I wasn't playing the part of a tourist, nor am I yet a local. So, I dodged out of the way of camera flashes and smiled at exclamations of the amazingly beautiful architecture. The street teems with languages, here French, there German, and always a few words here and there in a language I couldn't place. No doubt there were many Estonian tourists there, as both countries seems to exchange hostages at a furious rate.

My true delight, however, sprung not only from that fact that I was on my way to collect the new Hobb, but at the snatches of English that I overheard along the way. There are many American tourists, of course, mostly older couples who walk wary and always hold hands, but whom are quick to smile and point out little oddities in the street. I fancy I even heard a family of Australians, and although there is nothing in the least melodic or enchanting about our accent (despite what Rian may think) the very sound of a few words here and there made me grin like a maniac. It was the sound of home, or at the very least, a reminder of everything that waits for me back home. I've been here four months, at least, and have had only a handful of conversations with Australians, certainly none outside those between myself and family or friends.

I've been in Sweden too long to approach random strangers. Where I could have seized upon something as trivial as a shared football team before and made casual conversation in the street or upon a tram, I now smile to myself and blush a little at the thought of being so brazen. I don't imaging that any Australian far from home would mind me talking to them, but still, I can't work up the courage.

I've turned piss weak, obviously.

Still, I feel as if I could haunt Oldtown and all of its visitors just for the colour, the beautiful buildings, the bookstore and the lingering snatches of English conversation.

And, of course, the Reese's Pieces.

The podcast containing a reading from the new Hobb can be found here.

OK, If You're Drugging Me, Own Up Now.

For some reason, I'm positively euphoric today. It could be the very odd but thrilling dreams I had last night (yes, Veronica Mars was involved, but not in a smutty way, thank you very much) or maybe even waking up next to Ash and going all cutesy over her squishy morning face. It may, in fact, be due to the Muse CD waiting at the post office (but not available until 3) and all the excitement therein. Perhaps I can put it down to the email I got from Erika, or the messenger conversations I've had of late, I really don't know.

But I feel as if I've been whacked over the head with sunshine and happiness. I'm brimming with it. I feel as good as I did way back in Melbourne when Ash was there and life was crazy and fantastic.

It's not that I've felt terrible lately, I've been feeling just fine. (Aside from the chaos yesterday morning, of course.) But now? Exuberance is rolling off me in waves.

Something is different. Something good.

Lyrics and Such

Look at that, I haven't posted for ages, have I? It's hardly because I've been busy. I have, however, been listening eagerly to the new Muse album, of course. I'm yet to get my copy (being sent through an online store, much cheaper) but I've heard the whole thing a number of times while I was on their website. Now, I remember Skits saying to me that she's not all that impressed with the lyrics that they churn out. I can agree with that, some of them are rather teenage and angsty, but most of the lyrics are fairly cool.

Anyway, the reason I'm thinking about lyrics is because I've realised that, while they do make good songs much better, with Muse they're not the thing that I'm attracted to. Rather, it's Matt's voice. Seriously, that man could sing about flying pigs for all I care, and I'd still sit there and melt. Also, the music is just plain cool, or rocks out, or is amazingly tender and sweet. So, I suppose with The Voice, and The Music, the poor little lyrics are in danger of being trampled.

Of course, there are plenty of songs with brilliant lyrics like Unintended or Blackout or even Bliss and Space Dementia. Yes, some are a little bit off (like the line 'stretch it like a butt squeeze' in New Born) but overall... Not too bad.

I hope my free t-shirt fits. It had bloody better, or I'll hack off the interesting bits and sew them onto a plain black one. Who knows, it might even turn out looking all alternative and hot.