got back from newcastle yesterday… i love that place. best atmosphere.
found a great second hand book store on hunter street; didnt want to leave. FINALLY got my seven pillars of wisdom, $10, i was so excited.
also got this book called “feminist graffiti” its…. wait for it… a book of found graffiti of feminist sayings. it is amazing.
“whats an orgasm mummy?”
“i don’t know dear, ask your father.”
of course adam came first. men always come first.
this makes me smile, growing up, my dad used to always get angry if i used the word ‘chick’, as its demaning to women according to him. he also, when i was like 10, gave me this book called like women who run with wolves… it was like a ‘you are the beautiful womyn species, the best, moon goddess, blah blah blah blah’.
so if/ when i go through a feminist stage (if i’m not already a bit), blame my father.
i also got this book on salvadore dali, and found this in it
i assume it was deliberate… it was a nice little find, it made me smile.
oooooh, i got a patrick wolf cd, wind in the wires. i havent actually listened to it yet, just pored over the leaflet and drooled over the cover. gosh i love that man.
fotsun “officially” started today but the weather has been so bad, seriously. its lying around and snuggling up weather, not camping weather. oh the irony, festival of the sun, and it’ll probably be miserable tomorrow.
at the moment i feel like i am in limbo. i don’t know how i feel, how others feel, what i’m doing, where i’m going. i feel like i should be happy; i’m not particularly, but nor am i sad.
i’m just kinda… floating, drifting. i feel so aimless. i miss having a purpose, i.e. school.
i feel like i should be heading towards some grand venture and i suppose i am, university, sydney, but somehow that doesnt feel enough? i don’t know anymore.
i’ve started packing for syndey. its so surreal, even as i buy all the things i need, as i sort my jewellery, pack up the books i’m going to take.
i get these moments where it scares the shit out of me, leaving the comfort, the security, the certainty. most of all i’m leaving some people i love so fucking much, and i don’t know about life without them. but its exciting, it is. i’m going to get to meet people like me, with similar interests, and we’ll have debates about the death of the counter culture movement, the validity of postmodernism; history, art.
i guess my current apathy is largely derived from this feeling that i’m going to be waiting perpetually, forever, for everything to happen. for something to happen.
fuck i love this poem. i always get the last line in my head. like just now.
kumrads die because they’re told)
kumrads die before they’re old
(kumrads aren’t afraid to die
and kumrads won’t
believe in life)and death knows whie
(all good kumrads you can tell
by their altruistic smell
moscow pipes good kumrads dance)
s.freud knows whoy
the hope that you may mess your pance
every kumrad is a bit
of quite unmitigated hate
(travelling in a futile groove
god knows why)
and so do i
(because they are afraid to love
e.e. cummings, i love you. “because they are afraid to love”. perfect.