It’s not how much you’ve had – it’s how bad you feel.

Saturday, 4 May 1996  12:30pm

Yeah, yeah… in on a Saturday.  I don’t feel that I put in too good a performance this week, so I’m in here now trying to boost the week’s tally.  I’m keying the questionnaires the companies fill in and send back.  It’s not such bad work, each one’s a bit different.  You do have to use your brain a little.

Friday Drinks: sailed through with dignity intact.  I stayed on the light beers all night and once again, I dig being sober.  Just watching others get drunk, it’s a cack.  Henry the Brit got really pissed last night, kept updating me on how much he’d had, and how much he was feeling it.  I hope I don’t do that.  I’ve always drank by the motto of ‘It’s not how much you’ve had – it’s how bad you feel.’ But maybe that’s just an excuse for being a two pot screamer.

We drank in the “News Bar” first, then eight of us moved off to the Italian Waiters Club.  It’s this tiny place in Meyer Place.  I was allergic to something in there and felt like crap as soon as I sat down.  One eye (only one) wouldn’t stop watering, and I got this terrible headache.  I ate my food and left, around 11pm.  It felt good to be home early, and only having spent $40. I feel all pure, Sis.  The tiny thrill of behaving – righteousness with a touch of superiority – it’s grand.

Sitting here in my new beanie.  It’s a Kangol. Black with a slate grey trim.  It feels weird, I’m not used to wearing hats.

I’m supposed to be going out tonight as well, but I don’t really feel like it.  Spoke to Scottish Lisa who invited me out to dinner or something.  There’s a bunch of people going, some from work, some friends of Lisa’s, most of whom I’ve already met.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Lisa phones and pikes out.  Then again, I wouldn’t be crushed if it didn’t come together anyway. Can’t think of a decent excuse though, so I’ll probably go.  You know, I do believe I’m finally out of excuses to feed to people. Help me Sis. You must hear stacks of excellent excuses in your job. People saying ‘Sorry I couldn’t come in to work, I got stuck in the chimney or something. You know, you ought to write them all down and sell it as a book.  I bet it would sell. I’d sure buy a copy.

 

Monday, 6 May 1996  8:40am

A drowsy Monday, my buffalo head drooping on to the desk.  It’s the hangover of a lazy weekend.  Saturday I did come in to work, but only stayed for three hours or so.  Sunday I spent machetteing through the jungle of chocolate wrappers in my front room.  I’ve been eating so much crap lately Sis.  It’s getting out of control.  Maybe I’ll walk half-way home tonight.  Yeah. Like that’s gonna erase the results of six months of pure indulgence.

Saturday night I had dinner in some Chinatown Malaysian polished floorboards restaurant and then saw Jim Jarmuch’s new film, “Dead Man”.  It’s got Johnny Depp in it, but the whole cast is really good.  Loads and loads of no-quite-cameo appearances.  Robert Mitchum was in it.  John Hurt was in it.  So was Lance Erikksen (he was in Alien).  Gabriel Byrne was in it too.  You ought to go see it, if you haven’t already.  It’s not really a Western, it just happens to be set in the Wild West.  And check out the gun play in the film.  It’s quite funny.  Everyone shoots really slowly, and clumsily.  There’s no fancy-shmancy gun-slingin’ in this flick.  I enjoyed it, and I might go see it again.  I was thinking the other day how I don’t go and see films twice anymore.  I used to do that, to understand them better.  The second time you see a film, there are stacks of things that you find you missed the first time ’round.

Spent Sunday listening to CD’s, the TV is definitely on the blink.  And it’s driving me nuts. I dreamt about TV last night.  I remember the thrill of seeing the LED channel display light up as I sprung back from it, rapt in the ghostly flicker.  Sigh.  TV, why has thou forsaken me? (sob).  I’ll have to get it fixed, but I bet it’s gonna cost.  Maybe I should leave it like that, see what TV-deprivation does to me.  Perhaps it’ll be a new age of Screen-Free Me.  Too much junk-food, and too much junk-entertainment. Ho-hum.

Later.

J

 

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