dee - viscerate.com

GIRL
Diana Evans
called Dee
since May 25th, 1980
terrorising inner-city Melbourne
consuming flat whites
producing words, hers and other people's
contact dee [at] viscerate [dot] com

SITE
viscerate.com
consisting of personal reflections
photography by Amy Q
archives here

Thursday, March 28, 2002

I couldn't pass it up.

The Male's lovely father picked me up from the station, and informed me that unfortunately I would have to chill for a bit at his place of employment since he still had a few things to do. No problem, I say, as we pull up in front of the most impressive building I've ever seen in downtown Melbourne. And if you've ever seen downtown Melbourne, you'll know that topping the plethora of churches and gorgeous old sandstone buildings is really quite an achievement. Since he's the biggest cheese, he gets to park right out the front. Right out the front. We swan inside, and I exchange much giggling with his two secretaries (yes, women's most primeval form of communication is the giggle, even I recognise this fact) before one of them shows me up to the library where I will do my aforementioned chilling.

There's a computer. "Feel free to surf the net!" she says.

Like I said, I couldn't pass it up. I'm sitting in a room in the Australian College of Surgeons which contains things like "Operative Surgery" journals, the cutest red armchairs I've ever seen, and some hideously expensive and random pieces of art. I just had to blog.

Meanwhile, notes on the trip down:
  • Bacon and egg mcmuffin worth selling my soul for, but the boy on the register just wanted $2.45.
  • Skanky teenage deliquents of both genders. What is the point of this one trouser leg rolled up thing? Maybe he's just a teenaged Mason.
  • Some very nice manflesh around, though.
PS: If you're not already reading Je's blog, you really should be. The girl has class, wit and intelligence. Of course she does, or she wouldn't be my best friend.

5:02 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Wednesday, March 27, 2002

So anyway, I'm going to Melbourne for Easter. For no reason in particular. Have fun, eat chocolate. I'll be back in a week.

(PS: Why do they call it the drying room when nothing ever seems to get dry in there? Why not call it the Staying Slightly Damp room instead? Truth in advertising, people!)

11:44 PM - link to this - (0) comments

My lecturer is the most elegant, well-dressed anarchist in the world. He wears a button-down shirt with matching waistcoat (albeit with the sleeves rolled up). He wears a fob watch on a chain, tucked into his pocket. His hair is short, combed, parted on the right. He's a conservative mother's slightly damp dream.

"As an anarchist, I have a problem with the notion that states are necessary," he says with a tailored shrug. "Oh well."

12:22 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Tuesday, March 26, 2002

Hey, I have a blogger code: B6 d t k s u- f+ i o++ x- e+ l c+. And here's me who's always avoided getting codes of any sort (AFE, goth...). Get one too so I don't feel so conspicuous.

9:22 AM - link to this - (0) comments

Monday, March 25, 2002

My DOUG, I come up fifth on a Google search for guts? Surely there are more pertinent sites about guts out there.

11:00 PM - link to this - (0) comments

People will join a clique called Restricted to Black that has nothing to do with restrictions, or black, for that matter. Has nothing to do with anything. Is, in fact, completely fucking pointless. But they'll join it in droves.

Definitely going through a heavy-duty sarcasm/apathy 'I hate people' kick. Happy Easter.

10:51 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Dinnertime conversations involving Zen Constructs of Doom (and Somalia), because There Is No Spoon (tm). Furthermore, a gentleman is not a pot, because you use a frying pan to hit people over the head. Or a bottle. Or a chair, but only if it's wooden. And if you're female and over retiring age, you can use your handbag.

10:25 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Dude, I'm totally Ferris Bueller!


Who's Your 80s Movie Icon Alter-Ego? Find out @ She's Crafty

And all before breakfast, too.

8:47 AM - link to this - (0) comments

Sunday, March 24, 2002

You know how you're supposed to take the name of your first pet and then the name of the first street you ever lived in, and hey presto get your porn name? Well it doesn't work for me. Because I end up with P.C. Walters, and it sounds like I write gritty crime novels.

2:54 PM - link to this - (0) comments

More on the dream front; apparently last night everyone was having weird dreams. Must have been the interesting Herb Chicken for dinner. Gv had a dream that involved me, Matrix-style, whipping an uzi out of my coat and strafing the crowd. In the process of wrestling the gun off me, the spotlights above us were shot out, just to add the falling glass to the overall coolth factor.

Please note: if you are going to have dreams involving me, this sort are highly approved. Other good scenarios involve explosives, fighting the forces of evil in suitable attire, and conquering the world using only my toothbrush. Thank you.

1:57 PM - link to this - (0) comments

Fever dreams, involving my old primary school being taken over by occult forces or something, and then going to Japan, which looked suspiciously like Paris, and being felt up by some radical anti-paper activist in a fluffy restaurant.

It's quite a relief to get up and go and have breakfast, really. No one ever tries to feel me up in the Burgmann dining room.

9:32 AM - link to this - (0) comments