Thursday, May 26, 2005

post inquisition chill

big dance party weekend is over... three days and i am drained... think its time for a break, back to the pubs and lounge rooms of unsuspecting friends i think.

saturday 8pm - dinner at emmas, a quick feed to ease our stomachs for the night ahead. Each of us breaking off throughout the night in order to prepare our outfits. Luke was harnessed up, Jorja was tuled up, Rachel was tied up, Will was kilted up, and Emmas bo peep had run away with the sheep, so she settled on a gothed out nurse instead.

My out fit was a rehash of my sleaze apron (take a front and back polygon of material, add buckles, belts & bits of aluminium can and you got it). Together with my kick arse boots it looked good.

saturday 10:30pm - waiting for the girls to arrive, we get a first hand view of the costumes as they enter. Apparently most people chose to go with the theme of 13, proudly displaying their goose bumps for all to see.

sat-ur-sun maybe? - we partied away. Sveta played at the start in the open area. Mike Kelly also on incredibly early in the place with the pillars. Scoping the place out, Not too wide, but many twists and turns. As the night progressed i found my dancing feet. Shaking and rolling, spinning and twirling. the music tells me to drop to the floor and wait till the count of 4... 1, only the base line, 2, felling the presure rise, 3, my ass begins to find a mind of its own, 4, im gone now into the zone.

Sex with Will in the toilets - it seems that few people had realised the luxuries that the top level had to offer - quiet bar, space to dance, and a not so busy toilet.

Hey isnt that that guy from manicle, the one when we were all really trashed off our nut? hes shaking his finger at me with a smile on his face... oh yeah! thats right, guess so, wish i could remember his name.

people, faces, names, not as seamless as id like it to be... theres Will's friends, my friends, new encounters, people to whom you will only ever get that mutual glance, huddling under the huge heaters outside while getting a breath of fresh air.

sunday morning 8am, and we head back to wills palce for a shit shower and a shave. Vodka shots latter and were off again. Ive changed - for better or worse - into something more relaxed. pheonix is dark and dirty, but its too quiet to be of use. THe $10 cover must have scared people away. We decide that manicle will be a alternative. And away we go. Another half and im back up, allittle dance, a little beer and a little love - wills stayed home, but at theres other cute boys to dance with.

sunday again - sleep, work, sleep

monday 7am - emma calls appologetic - she forgot about me, 'meet me at manicle'. Will decides to go to work, draging my sorry ass out of bed - a line or too and manicle in the best bet. The pace is slower, my vision is clearer, and there is new people to meet and old ones to converse with. what fun!

monday 11am? off to new boy davids place, hes fucked, we crash, all is fun still as we relax. I get sick - sleep - work - sleep... its over. finito, zilch. thats it. gone. least till next week ;)

Thursday, May 19, 2005

play up! boot up!

Inquisition is 2 days away! sucess with my shift at Kens being swaped (unfortunately to sunday 10pm but thats an improvement correct). The alcohol, fairy dust and alphabetical apropriations have been made. back has been shaved. the costume is currently under construction, A reworking of my sleaze ball costume - and - as a special gift to myself boots - black leather, cutting a inch from the knees, i am in love with them.

They are my first boots, you never forget your first boots. The heel is raised, my posture shifts in them. I stand differently. 'this must be another me!' - am i biker david? goth david? skinhead? or simply a leather comrade. I am enticed to play in the boots. I want to let the boots make me. Its a masochism without a master. The boots are neither a living subject, nor dead object. Maybe they are one of the desiring machines i have heard so much about. I have been dancing in my bedroom in them, getting their feel, knowing their style. Lifting, spinning, step 1, 2, 3 - its a sweet thing, this love, this strange love...

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

out of the frying pan, into the nostalga

in the past two weeks i have writen approx 10 000 words. A literature review here, thematic analysis there, and a reflectived jounal somewhere in the middle. I always feel so drained of thought after completing assesments. My intellect has earned a well deserved come down - inquisition here i come, or hope... after hours of volly work to get my ticket, i have suddenly found myself rostered on for that night - outrage and anguish - my face is red with indignation. It seems apparent that my future rests on a phonecall tomorrow morning. Here's hoping...

on the brighter side of things i celebrated the end of the bulk of my assesments with obtaining a copy of Mylo (uber cool), hotel costes (uber chill with a slice of fun) and the disasociatives (uber dan & mac). Not being one to listen to the radio, or watch telly, i find it interesting how i fail to percieve music as 'cool' or 'in' at the moment. I am blind to the technicalities of musical taste. For me it is all immediately digested as a future nostalga - music is always a little setimental, a memeory waiting to happen. Perhaps this nostalga limits me from experiencing the new. But is there ever a new, an original? ANd if there was would we know how to interact with it? As Vivian Westwood notes, in fashion what works is the strangely familiar - seeing what we knew in a different way. What today will not be blessed (or condemned) to nostalgia tomorrow? Its a bit like asking what can escape history? Even september 11 is nostalgic - where were you on that day? Watching the reruns i'd imagine.

Friday, May 13, 2005

unexpected tidings

picture it...
approximately two weekends ago, walking through the pedestrian tunnel at central with Will (my boyfriend). the tunnel opening up to the night sky. Our destination is the hippo lounge, it sits across the street. Inside animal skins stuck to the wall. Casual attire to a casual event. An engagement in this case, for Heidi - good friend, ex room mate of several years, ex politcal co-conspirer. Good food, good vibes. Heidi playing hostess. Not a chance to get any more than a couple of words in before someone else arrived. The usual faces. The closeted friend, the crazy party girl, quiet one in the conner whos name i cant quite remember. The person i want to talk to but cant because of heidi's annoying brother... just an ordinary party, or so it seemed...

then matt and heidi drop the bomb. This is no engagement, they have gotten married! I stand a little agasp. Who would have guessed, then again who could i not have? At least it has put an end to the faux humour of the speeches. Mainly derived from their romantic first meeting in a gay bar. Thats right she met him in a... gayyy bar, gayyyy bar, gay bar (gitar strumming). The engagement took place only hours earlier @ parramatta park. Its quickly a flurry of emotion. Not all good. Bet they wish they stayed in a park as opposed to this zoo. Some people leave in anger, others realise how beautiful the moment is. I personally am a little deprived of emotion - i dont really see any change. But i guess that was their point, marriage is a thing to do, not a thing to be. A means to an end not an end in itself.

'im sorry this marriage is not valid, its not how its supposed to be'

I wonder what lurks beneath the word marriage that would make significant people to heidi walk out in anger. (Although i suspect that for the ones who did, it was just an excuse). Why is marriage such a fantastic thing? Maybe it is a fantasy. One of the few fantasies you can live. Marriage that does not fit the fantasy would become aboresent - disgusting. Think a deformed birth, a intollerable moment, People personally offended at noting more that cutlural assumptions.

Im sure Slavoj Zizek (or his wife who has a different twist on this theory) would site this as an instance where 'ones fantasy structure becomes threatened by the other who finds plesure in what the self deems unpleasurable, or undesirable'.

if people cannnot see that an understatement of their marriage is an amplification of their concious acknowledgement of mutal love, then they can not be as happy as i am for them, or see what it means to do that in a crazy world.

brought to you from the state library which has wireless internet connection - making study and social life easier!

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

take your monthly medicine

I have been sitting on the train for the past hour or so. Completing my readings for a similar period of time. My mind distracted by the very words which require my attention. The articles are on party drugs. My mind is already begining to float with just the thought of intoxication. I love the night life, i got to boogie, preferably on the high, yeah. How long has it been since i have had a good dance, a good high? scince anzac weekend - too long to be separated from good friends.

Discoveries abound in my readings. While working through the literature, i have come up across a few facts of interest. In the short run it appears that extacy cause insomnia, headaches and irregular mood. It appears science has discovered come downs, E has shown a weak positive correlation to cognitive and memory impairment and depression in the long run. I cant help but wonder if a study of absent minded professors would show that excessive use of knowledge also leads to 'cognitive impairment'.

While i am open to the possibility of real negative side effects of E i find it alarming that the scientific community so easily panders to the present day morality. Results are printed that give no definite answers, only alarm people. Alarming people makes it a social concern. Social concerns require research. Research reinforces the moral imperitive of repressing illigitimate pleasures. it is a circuit of conservatism - building on the status quo, with more status quo. The fact that other social issues may require the research; the fact that extacy may be taken safely (in respect to a generaly unsafe society filled with pollution and chemicals); the fact that i demand the right choose my pleasure - all remain out of scope. On the brighter side of things at least E is not physically adictive.

Another interesting fact: GBH causes people to sleep for short periods (1 to 3 hours). People then awake to find themselves in a period of insomnia for the several hours. On occasion people will take more GBH to move from insomia back to sleep. People on occasion will use this technique to move 'around-the-clock'. Partying in a perpetual state of intoxication for several days straight. The little devil on my shoulder is salivating. Think crystal but without the mental giberish on the second day. It seems that the poison is the cure. GBH picks you up, GBH drops you down, over and over again. We may not be allowed gay marriage, but we can still replicate the experience on the black market. My little angel has slapped me in the face - the risk of passing out in unsafe places, the real risk of addiction (with ironically similar symptoms to alcoholism) and risk of overdosing is more than enough to keep me at bay. No GBH for davey. lets hope for a new and improved 'designer version' without the negatives to transpire in the near future.

Drug safely, look both ways before making your decision!