I just want to feel less disfigured by knowing there’s someone else out there wearing the same badges of aberration.

J Diary Entries

Thur 19 Jan 1995

Sat diagonally opposite this guy on the tram who had the DT’s real bad. He had that alcoholic look about him; the seventies shirt, grubby slacks, sneakers. His worldly goods in a plastic supermarket bag. I could pick the DT’s, firstly because his eyes would open briefly under his beetling brows and then he’d frown harder and clench his eyes shut tight. And then there were his hands – they wouldn’t sit still, he was constantly trying not to brush imaginary things off his thighs. I’ll bet he was seeing bugs. Oddly though, he didn’t have an alcoholic’s complexion, his face wasn’t ruddy and aged, his skin was OK, his face looked distracted, but there was an underlying clarity to it. It was good because I could stare at him as closely as I liked, examining him – he was too self-absorbed to notice.


Fri 20 Jan 1995

Another dull day at work, did some crosswords, but spend most of my time chatting.  Simon was feeling poorly – he got too pissed last night at “The Grand”, his usual watering hole.

Dad called me at work. He’s been at Flinders Island for the last two weeks. He called on his mobile phone which kept dropping out. He said the fishing was good – sharks, stingrays and 3 foot flat-heads. I lied to him about going to ConFest, it was pretty easy, he didn’t ask many questions. He also said Nana’s arthritis was playing up (guilt, guilt, guilt – nice try Dad!) but that Pop was fitter than he’d been in five years. Dad got a letter from S too. That sucks, why does she write to him, who she hates so fiercely, and not to me, who she claims to love? I mean, I know it’s not a contest, and love cannot be measured, but it’s still a bit galling. Do I have to fuck up her life before she’ll write to me? Christ, I’m sounding almost jealous. Scratch the almost.

Rang Josh, he had a rendezvous with his ex-girlfriend Marni. He said it was “unpleasant”, that was the phrase he had designated for it.  He said that at the beginning he was thinking that he could fall for her again (she’s looking fabulous), but she’s too messed up. She’s been addicted to various prescription drugs, been in and out of psych hospital with scarred arms to show for it and been anorexic into the bargain. After he told me about the scars, I felt a really strong desire to meet her and show her my scars.  I suppose I want to commiserate, to make myself feel less alone, less freakish. On one hand, I can see that she’s a morass of problems and that she could complicate my life, but I feel so alone, that even someone who bears a passing resemblance to me in terms of the problems, I’m experiencing and have experienced that I grasp at them as a life line.  There is nothing, absolutely nothing sexual about this. I just want to feel less disfigured by knowing there’s someone else out there wearing the same badges of aberration. I guess I’m making gross generalizations here – her experience may be, probably are, vastly different to mine. Perhaps the meeting of two kooks is not a good idea, I don’t know. As you, dear reader may be able to tell I am a little the worse for wear through drinking. I went shopping and bought some mixer and decided to have one or two “soothing drinks”. Unfortunately I am not easily soothed.


Sat 21 Jan 

I rang Leah last night when I was drunk, sniffing for sympathy I guess. She knew I was pissed and was concerned for my welfare. She asked me to got to Midian Nightclub but I declined on account of my drunkenness. I shouldn’t have called her, I always call her when I’m sloshed. I can’t remember too much of the conversation.

I made a friend today. The fluffy tabby cat that hangs around the alley behind my house snuck into my backyard while I was hanging out some washing and it let me pat it. It’s a gorgeous cat. I sat on the warm concrete and stroked it for an hour or so I guess. It was so nice, to my embarrassment, I almost cried. I must be pretty lonely.


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