Hazywritingbrain

Mmm. I feel good. I've just been sprawled on the couch with a book across my lap, and my efforts to get some notes down for the current Work in Progress were really very rewarded. I've cleared up the ending (I think) and now I can try a second draft.

The first draft, I tried to write in a cafe. Needless to say, it was shit, as all first drafts tend to be. But in writing it, I established exactly what I don't want to do. So it was helpful, anyway.

In other news, I bought a new ink pen and subsequently have ink all over my hands. New York ink, which stains like a bitch. But it's worth it, I feel like I've done some good work tonight.

Plus, What the Sea Wants, the Sea Will Have is a fucking great album. Mmm, Sarah Blasko.

Jealous of Ragingly Awesome People

I just found out that Neil Gaiman (who I adore beyond reason) just got sent a copy of Amanda Palmer's new album Who Killed Amanda Palmer as a present, and it came 'all wrapped up in ancient lace.' Ah! I'm so jealous! But sort of strangely happy that two of my favourite people of all time are like, buddies, and send each other presents, because you know what? That's really, really cool.

I don't know what it is about those two. I guess Neil is pretty much all I want to be as an author (not to mention how ragingly cool he is to his fans) and Amanda is pretty much the idol of everything in me that loves music and performing and wild and crazy art. And they're both so fucking lovely! OK, so I can't say I've met Neil, but I can totally vouch for the coolness of Amanda - and I know everyone is sick of my Amanda-squee, but seriously, she deserves it.

I just want to be like both of them when I'm all growed up!

See, I kind of do this (get all excited about cool people) when it comes to my friends, as well, because... I don't know why, actually. Maybe the writer in me likes decoding and unpicking characters and for some reason, I'm just so utterly exuberant and celebratory when I discover that someone is, in fact, a spectacular person and has amazing qualities. So yes, I am doing the same thing, from afar, in this case.

I can't help it, I just love people. They're what life is all about.

Better!

OK, so that nasty, grumpy, horribly upset Emma has been overpowered and locked in a basement.

Let's forget about her, shall we?

Yes, everything is going OK, and I'm sure I'll find a place (hopefully we get the one we applied for! Pleasepleaseplease!) and everything will be fine and dandy.

Today I had a day off for the first time in a week and a half, and my god, is it good. I got up around 10, did the email thing and then went and sat in a cafe in Yarraville and wrote for a couple of hours while drinking tea. It was brilliant, apart from the fact that they were playing Aretha Franklin (one of the CDs I have, actually) and I kept getting distracted and wanting to sing along. Also, it made me think of Sean, which of course is lovely. *grin*

But I got writing done! It's not really how I want the short story to work, but it's kind of good to bash it out and play with the ideas a little. And I sort of know what I have to fix and change and improve upon, so that's great.

I've also spent rather a lot of today doing washing and lazing around in the sunshine. Ah, it's so nice not to have to do anything. I might even crack open the very delicious bottle of wine I picked up (2005 '80 Acres' Shiraz Viognier) and listen to music and do yet more writing. There's one more thing that I'd really like to get done for Valentine's Day, actually, and it has nothing to do with the actual holiday. OK, so it's something to do with the DWP, if you must know...

I think working at the (awful) cafe is making me realise that I do want to write. And I can, and I will, and I'm going to totally make it. I feel very bold and adventurous, actually. I will get there! Hurrah!

Obviously my better mood is much more preferable to the grumpy one.

Fuck you, rental market

So I'm pretty much fucked, right?

I cannot believe I was served with a notice to vacate (landlord wants to move in) during the middle of February and March when every single uni student in the universe is looking for a cheap place to live. Seriously, this is the most fucked time of year, and it pretty much equals me not having a place to live.

It's awful. Tranny and I spent all day today wandering around to at least five different agents, looking through their lists and immediately discarding them, because there's simply nothing to rent. This time two years ago, we would have been fine. We would have walked into a decent place without any problem, but now? Now we're utterly screwed. It's just so goddamn unfair, especially on Tranny.

So, I spent my one morning/afternoon off this week fucking around with houses, driving myself to bitter angry tears and generally being in the worst mood in the universe. But it gets better, I'm working all weekend. Great. I'll be leaving in a few hours to go and do a job that I hate, because oh, did I mention? Triple M has decided that they don't want panel ops after all.

Well, fuck you too, universe. I'm going to try to get all cried out before I have to go to work.

To Follow an Old Piece

Slip into the machine
Let it fabricate/replicate/originate
A perfect dream