Not with a bang but a whimper*
There goes another weekend. Not a bad one, all up, but pretty quiet. Saturday my housemate and I went shopping in Paddington. I tried on many dresses. They all made my look like a blancmange. This, by the way, is much much worse than looking like a christmas pudding. It would have been rather depressing if it didn't make me laugh so much. Some were downright hilarious (if you are having trouble picturing this, understand that the latest fashion is "floaty and frilly" and I am becoming what is generally called "buxom" [if you are still having trouble, just bail now and trust me when I say that even the shopkeepers simply nodded sympathetically when I passed the dress back]).
After that I lost my car for about one hour. I had become a bit disorientated by all those frills, and Jen buggered off to go see a film and left me traipsing around the town getting a bit panicky. Eventually stumbled on the dear little beast and went over to Ian's do, where I spent a fair bit of time trying to track him down. But, it was all worth it in the end to see his glowing yellow form.
Sunday, that is today, has been quite a strange day. I went to bed at 10pm last night (missed out on Mardi Gras due to being "not in the mood" at the last minute). I then proceed to have a terrible nights sleep, finally waking at 5am when my male housemate came stumbling in with two likely looking young girls and commenced drinking wine in the living room. I, happily, joined them for a morning tipple before heading off to Newtown for some coffee and breaky.
Then market shopping, Balmain shopping and Bondi shopping with Jen. Inundated by yet more blancmange dresses, I am thinking I will call it quits for a bit on that front. Even a cinch belt will not save me in this land (this is a term that I only know from reading girly mags and is not an indication of proficiency in the "being a girl" stakes).
This week is a busy one for me, so being healthily tired on a Sunday evening is a good thing.
* This, as many may know, is from the TS Elliot poem The Hollow Men that I rediscovered recently.
I like to rephrase the last section as follows (edit in bold)**;
Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the procrastination
For Thine is the Kingdom
** Erm .. again, this might be one of those little gags that is a heck of alot funnier in ones head. Hmmm.
PS - I have recently discovered Annie Freud who is one of Britain's fine and upcoming young poets. Apparently she is also really good at performing her poems, and if I were in Britain I would very much like to see her. Some of you may be able to spot why I think she is tops.
posted by tangles at 6:34 PM
10 Comments:
As I am too lazy to set up my own corning of Internet space I must rely on others to push my favoured literary works. My current favourite poem is this one.
From The Long Goodbye by Raymond Chandler
"`I grow old... I grow old... I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.` What does that mean, Mr. Marlowe?"
"Not a bloody thing. It just sounds good."
He smiled. "That is from the `Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.` Here's another one. `In the room women come and go/Talking of Michael Angelo.' Does that suggest anything to you, sir?"
Yeah -- it suggests to me that the guy didn't know very much about women."
"My sentiments exactly, sir. Nonetheless I admire T. S. Eliot very much."
"Did you say, 'nonetheless'?"
Oh dear. Just read your Lord Byron poem, ceedy. Nicely bleek. Great for the old Monday morning, "Why the fuck do I bother"s.
(which, by the way, I don't really get these days since I don't really bother much!)
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
His mates called him Ozzie.
Hmm, indeed that poem did appeal this morning however my day has been temporarily brightened by the ever alert employees at Rebel Sport.
Deciding that a new squash racquet would make my life better I decided upon a model reduced from $210 to $140. Still a lot of money for something I use once a week I hear you say? Well, the fine computers at Rebel Sport decided that it was actually reduced to $40. The girl serving me merely said 'Oh, that's a good discount' to which I replied, 'yes, it is.'
The moral of the story; even shit days can get better.
Oh! What a friendly computer!!
I had a hot hot Monday driving around interview dip shits who work in an industry that I now find fiendishly dull. The happy part of the story is that I once again feel like an absolute legion for moving on and have decided, whatever uncertainly and soul searching it may entail, life will be peachy simply because (nearly) anything is better than that shit*.
* Disclaimer - if I end up working for lots of cash at Cisco, please put all of this rambling down to the heat of the car and the amount of traffic on Anzac Bridge.
I have a clinch belt (or more accurately 2) and used to work at Rebel giving people (mainly myself) discounts too... this isn't all about me though.
Just wanted to pipe up with an I'm glad things are looking up, or at least looking, it was great to talk to you, I have a dubious eyebrow raised re: the french dessert/bosom comparison and whatever happens, it better involve your ass and it's proximity to mine at some stage.
Toodles.
xx.
Cinch belts sound funny. I bet they're sleazy bastards.
Good luck with the soul searching tough guy, we are all doing it. Work for cisco, maybe then you can just buy some happiness. Maybe if you went to Rebel they would give you a BONZA discount. Maybe.
Ah, you felt like "an absolute legion"? I have my good days, but FUCK!
I know I know. I was going to do one of those typo disclaimers, but then I though, fuck it. Lets put it all down to freudian slips and be done with it. I felt like a legion, a troup and an entire fucking army of really cool people who know when to quit a job and move on.
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