writing as therapy.

ya ya. so now rather than just compulsively ranting on the blog, i am putting things just on my harddrive. it has been a really long time since i wrote 'properly' and i really want to get back into some sort of writing practice. i ... prefer is the wrong word... suit? yeah, suit it more than i do art. i know i am better at it. that is not saying a great deal, because i am a relatively shit artist.

there is a feminist discussion group in brisbane i have been mulling over going to for the last 4 months. i never get the guts up to do it, because there are both strangers and people i know there, and i am frightened of both of those things. in some ways, i like my discussions online. in more ways, if i have to talk about, or argue about porn Ever Again, i am going to start throwing things. so i abstain. that, and the lack of the car means i take my life into my own hands travelling around brisbane at night unacompanied. thanks, rapidly rising female sexual assult rate. it's all good and well to encourage us to use public transport, but it is sort of hard when you are not even suppose to exercise alone at the moment due to the number of rapes around. see, That is a more pressing feminist issue to me - this lack of publication of information about rape in brisbane. fuck, the reality of rape and sexual assalt in brisbane - regardless if it is a prostitute or a sales assistant raped. blablabla. anyhow, maybe, if i feel Gutsy, i'll go along to the next one. depending if it is another porn related thing.

i've just noticed a completely smooth spot on my space bar. it's where i hit the most when typing - i seem to use the space bar with my right thumb much more than with my left. actually, now i am trying to remain aware of what i am doing, i notice that i only use my right thumb for spaces. this is a completely unconcious reaction i have never noticed before. that is facinating. i type every day, and yet i have never noticed that i only use my right thumb.

as one might have noticed, i use this thing entirely for myself. i don't care if i never get a comment. i like using blogs, because of the space the internet provides. this huge, cavern. it's like screaming into a hole in the ground, that goes to the centre of the earth. or sticking your head out in space and yelling your name. it's completely meaningless in a randomly poetic way.

it's really, really windy here tonight.

my dinner was divine. i had tofu at the himalayan, which was the beautiful soft tofu that gently absorbs the flavour around it, while maintaining a texture and taste of its own. the coriander stuck to the pieces of tofu, and would give a really sharp touch to the pillowy texture of the tofu. i stared out the window and thought about the fragments of memories that remained the most solid of all the people i have ever been in love with, or as close as i could consider love to be at the time.

i have a few fragments for b - my big highschool crush whom i am now buddies with. i have started collecting paragraphs on h - the first person i consider myself to have fallen in love with. i touched on m, but realised that there is an acidic rawness that rises when i try to put it into words. i got one instant down, and want to leave it at that for now.

lachlan, well, there is all the time in the world to play with the memories and current fragments. and that makes me smile just typing it.