Tuesday, 31 October 1995 12:42pm God S, It’s been forever since I last wrote! I’ve been so busy with the book, I just haven’t had time for lunch-breaks or anything. But, yesterday I got Volume 2 (which we did first for some reason) off to the printers and now I’m keying corrections from the proof of Volume 1. Sooo, I can take ten minutes off … Continue reading The intricacies of office bitching and backstabbing.
Tuesday, 14 Feb 1995, 9:13am St Valentine’s Day. Where’s my fuckin’ cards? I haven’t got one damn message of desire, and it’s already quarter past nine. I haven’t got any faxes, letters, cards, taped messages – not even a nudey photo of someone I’ve never met but glanced at briefly on Parliament Train Station, Platform Four. What’s the deal here? There was only one Valentine’s … Continue reading Maybe I should get a dog. Dogs have no self esteem, that’s why they’ll do anything for you.
10 January 1995 Dear Sis, Hi, it’s me. It’s Tuesday. It’s dull. It stinks in here. It really does stink in here you know. Remember in my last letter how I told you about the roof leaking? Well, the carpet is still wet, and it’s 33˚, it’s beginning to smell like Jeffrey Dahmer’s flat in here. Donovan called me Friday afternoon and invited himself around. Don’t … Continue reading Most Journalists end up being alcoholics, it’s all part of the machismo culture of cynicism and superiority.
December 1994 Dear Nana and Pop, Merry Christmas. Sorry about typing this letter, it seems a little impersonal, but I’m so used to typing at work that my hand writing is almost unreadable these days. I’m sorry I can’t be there with everyone for Christmas, I’ve got this camping trip planned with some friends up near the Murray River. There’s this festival sort of thing … Continue reading J’s Get out of Christmas letter to Grandparents.
6 December 1994 Dear S, This may be the last letter you receive from me. The expedition is not going well. My compatriots are fading badly, it’s the heat you see. Today the mercury has risen to 38˚, yesterday it peaked at 40˚. There is no respite for any of us. I fear we shall all perish. We’ve already eaten three of the camels, and the … Continue reading We sat around listening to CD’s drinking Kahlua, being urbane and bitchy.