Mum’s moving to Vegas!

Wednesday, 8 November 1995  10:49 AM

Goddamn I’m hungry Sis. Roll on 11 o’clock so I can sneak over to Collins Place and get some food. Starving. ..

Spent yesterday (Melbourne Cup) on the couch.  Didn’t get out of bed ’til 1:30.  Caught half of Ingmar Bergman’s “Wild Strawberries” on SBS.  I didn’t realize what film it was until the end.  I’ve been trying to hire that film for ages, none of the video libraries seem to have it.  I stood up J Nott and Henry.  I feel a bit bad about it really.  Still, J Nott was telling me they went to the Esplanade and the Prince of Wales Hotels and that they were packed, and I’m sure I would have freaked out and run off screaming (I hate crowded pubs).  I really needed that sleep though.  It’s funny how you can miss out on sleep three days ago and catch up all that time later.  I’m not sure if I really want to make any new friends, it seems like a liability.  I’m so horrible, it’s like I don’t want to obligate myself to spending time with someone unless they’re absolutely perfect and there’s nothing wrong with them at all.  The tiniest fault will turn me off someone entirely, and it’s not like I’m perfect by any means.  I’m just thin-skinned I guess.

Mum called me this morning before I left for work, She sounds just as sick of work as I do.  I don’t think she likes the five days a week slog, and why should she?  Mum’s got boxes of money, she ought to be leading the high life, sticking money in Tom Jones’ knickers at Las Vegas shows with diamonds dripping from every finger.  Can you see it?


Thursday, 9 November 1995  9:25 AM

Only 27 days ’til you arrive Sis.  Only 8 days ’til I’m on HOLIDAYS!  Wheeeee!!  Whoop whoop whoop!! Can’t wait to see you, can’t wait to escape, I need some time to uncoil, a week or two to just slither around the house in my jimmy jams, devouring lamingtons whole, with you.

Apart from when you head back here to Australia, what do you do with your holidays?  Do you and Jack pack up the young ‘un and motor down for a picnic on the cliffs of Dover?  I can see that, like a scene from a movie, an aerial shot, you and Jack propping up Brady on a tartan blanket, pointing to the camera whizzing away its countdown ’til the sulphur flash saying “Smile Brady, Brady smile!”  as the helicopter winds its slow motion way around to the other side of the cliffs.  (I think this scene is lifted from “The Krays”.  In fact, I’m sure it is.  That’s a bit worrying, when scenes from movies start popping up in your imaginings like that, like some pre-prepared, just-add-faces memory.  Oh well, I guess it’s just the death throes of imagination.  ‘Bout time really, I am turning 23 in a few days.)  Or do you scoot down to Blackpool for the fairgrounds?  I saw a movie called “Funny Bones” a few weeks ago that was set in Blackpool.  Not a bad film really. Oh God, I forgot, you and Jack head over to Spain right?  Is Spain to England what Bali is to Australia?  That’s the impression I get from English TV.  Though I guess Spain would be nicer than Bali, there’s so much more of it that it would be harder to commercialise completely like Bali.  Did I tell you I might be going to Sydney with Josh after New Year?  Yeah, we’re heading up, he knows some people up there whose lounge room we could sleep in (though secretly I think I’d rather pay Josh’s share of a hotel bill than crash in some flea-bitten Sydney hovel). J Nott is heading up to Byron Bay around the same time, I said that maybe we could meet up there.  We’ll see.  I’d like to go up to Byron Bay and pick on all the hippies.  Just get one in the street and give him a push and say “Hey hippie!” Hey dirty stinkin’ junkie hippie!  You can’t do anything about me pushing you ‘coz you’re too fucked up on heroin to even tie your shoes hippie!” (That’s why they wear sandals you know.)  I’m just a closet bully.  Tee hee.

27 days!




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