some pics

i am in the mood for pictures

i have no patience

but i DO have a fever...

and tim is awesome, and i miss him, and he has a beautiful smile.

anyway....

i don't normally do this sort of thing...

The Survey
Name:	fiona
Birthday:	30th june 1982
Birthplace:	joondalup, WA. not kidding, it's a real place name
Current Location:	inner west, sydney, the best city in the world. a step up from joondalup, that's for sure!
Eye Color:	changeable. brown and green
Hair Color:	kinda dark chestnut?
Height:	*blank look* something like 165 cm
Right Handed or Left Handed:	right
Your Heritage:	english welsh german etc etc mongrel, basically
The Shoes You Wore Today:	ahaha. very funky beaded retro sandals
Your Weakness:	people who look you in the eye, and then wink
Your Fears:	sharks and very deep water
Your Perfect Pizza:	tandoori chicken from ice+slice in newtown
Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year:	finish honours with first class and get an APA
Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger:	lol
Thoughts First Waking Up:	why? why!?!
Your Best Physical Feature:	hrm. i really like my hands and my eyes. other people are emotionaly attached to my hair.
Your Bedtime:	anything from 11pm till 5am
Your Most Missed Memory:	surely if i miss it that means it's gone? the thing i am most nostalgic about then... year 12 art classes
Pepsi or Coke:	blergh. yuck. neither.
MacDonalds or Burger King:	ditto. *retch*
Single or Group Dates:	single
Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea:	lipton green
Chocolate or Vanilla:	chocolate you fruitcake. who would pick vanilla??
Cappuccino or Coffee:	can't drink either anymore, sadly, but i used to go for flat whites in any case. it's a sad thing when a barista can no longer drink her own coffee
Do you Smoke:	when the mood takes me, yes, a lot
Do you Swear:	aye
Do you Sing:	whenever i can't be shut up
Do you Shower Daily:	yes, often twice or thrice when procrastinating
Have you Been in Love:	aye
Do you want to go to College:	i have been at uni for 6 years. if i get my way i'm not leaving anytime soon. 'real world' be damned!
Do you want to get Married:	already are
Do you belive in yourself:	in my more enthusiastic moments
Do you get Motion Sickness:	only if i try to read on buses. everything else is fine
Do you think you are Attractive:	sometimes. but i am generally very self critical
Are you a Health Freak:	yes
Do you get along with your Parents:	now everything is sweet. in the past that would be a NO
Do you like Thunderstorms:	love em!
Do you play an Instrument:	not really
In the past month have you Drank Alcohol:	yes
In the past month have you Smoked:	yes
In the past month have you been on Drugs:	nope
In the past month have you gone on a Date:	lol
In the past month have you gone to a Mall:	i have been sucked into the vortex, yes.
In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos:	nope
In the past month have you eaten Sushi:	yes, love it
In the past month have you been on Stage:	sadly not
In the past month have you been Dumped:	lol
In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping:	cant say as i have
In the past month have you Stolen Anything:	nope
Ever been Drunk:	hell yes
Ever been called a Tease:	no, though i think i am
Ever been Beaten up:	yes
Ever Shoplifted:	yes
How do you want to Die:	quick
What do you want to be when you Grow Up:	a lumberjack
What country would you most like to Visit:	right now, spain. but it changes
In a Boy/Girl..
Favourite Eye Color:	heterochromatic does it for me
Favourite Hair Color:	meh
Short or Long Hair:	prolly short
Height:	taller than me
Weight:	lean
Best Clothing Style:	meh
Number of Drugs I have taken:	plenty prescription, not so many recreation
Number of CDs I own:	hrm maybe 75? but many mp3s
Number of Piercings:	now, 5
Number of Tattoos:	2
Number of things in my Past I Regret:	what kind of mean question is that, just as i was beginning to enjoy myself...

sweet & sexy (for the sake of ego)

de lempicka

glitter

I am covered in it. It's actually quite a cool feeling. See, it's Mark's party this eve, and it has a beatles or bob dylan theme, so i am going as eleanor rigby. i look like a reincarnation of my mother from 30 years ago, it's great!

i have cool tie-waisted pants, a very funky batik top over a red singlet top, my hair is out with a shimmery scarf around it, and funky sandals/bangles/earrings. the earrings are great, very retro, and so cheap from the 2 dollar shop down in leichhardt market place, it's awesome!

so i am all peaced out and happy. and resolved to wear more colours in general because it's more fun.

:)

a new obsession

and it's all because of audrey...


The First Elegy

Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
pressed me against his heart, I would perish
in the embrace of his stronger existence.
For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to endure and are awed
because it serenely disdains to annihilate us.
Each single angel is terrifying.
And so I force myself, swallow and hold back
the surging call of my dark sobbing.
Oh, to whom can we turn for help?
Not angels, not humans;
and even the knowing animals are aware that we feel
little secure and at home in our interpreted world.
There remains perhaps some tree on a hillside
daily for us to see; yesterday's street remains for us
stayed, moved in with us and showed no signs of leaving.
Oh, and the night, the night, when the wind
full of cosmic space invades our frightened faces.
Whom would it not remain for -that longed-after,
gently disenchanting night, painfully there for the
solitary heart to achieve? Is it easier for lovers?
Don't you know yet ? Fling out of your arms the
emptiness into the spaces we breath -perhaps the birds
will feel the expanded air in their more ferven flight.
Yes, the springtime were in need of you. Often a star
waited for you to espy it and sense its light.
A wave rolled toward you out of the distant past,
or as you walked below an open window,
a violin gave itself to your hearing.
All this was trust. But could you manage it?
Were you not always distraught by expectation,
as if all this were announcing the arrival
of a beloved? (Where would you find a place
to hide her, with all your great strange thoughts
coming and going and often staying for the night.)
When longing overcomes you, sing of women in love;
for their famous passion is far from immortal enough.
Those whom you almost envy, the abandoned and
desolate ones, whom you found so much more loving
than those gratified. Begin ever new again
the praise you cannot attain; remember:
the hero lives on and survives; even his downfall
was for him only a pretext for achieving
his final birth. But nature, exhausted, takes lovers
back into itself, as if such creative forces could never be
achieved a second time.
Have you thought of Gaspara Stampa sufficiently:
that any girl abandoned by her lover may feel
from that far intenser example of loving:
"Ah, might I become like her!" Should not their oldest
sufferings finally become more fruitful for us?
Is it not time that lovingly we freed ourselves
from the beloved and, quivering, endured:
as the arrow endures the bow-string's tension,
and in this tense release becomes more than itself.
For staying is nowhere.
Voices, voices. Listen my heart, as only saints
have listened: until the gigantic call lifted them
clear off the ground. Yet they went on, impossibly,
kneeling, completely unawares: so intense was
their listening. Not that you could endure
the voice of God -far from it! But listen
to the voice of the wind and the ceaseless message
that forms itself out of silence. They sweep
toward you now from those who died young.
Whenever they entered a church in Rome or Naples,
did not their fate quietly speak to you as recently
as the tablet did in Santa Maria Formosa?
What do they want of me? to quietly remove
the appearance of suffered injustice that,
at times, hinders a little their spirits from
freely proceeding onward.
Of course, it is strange to inhabit the earth no longer,
to no longer use skills on had barely time to acquire;
not to observe roses and other things that promised
so much in terms of a human future, no longer
to be what one was in infinitely anxious hands;
to even discard one's own name as easily as a child
abandons a broken toy.
Strange, not to desire to continue wishing one's wishes.
Strange to notice all that was related, fluttering
so loosely in space. And being dead is hard work
and full of retrieving before one can gradually feel a
trace of eternity. -Yes, but the liviing make
the mistake of drawing too sharp a distinction.
Angels (they say) are often unable to distinguish
between moving among the living or the dead.
The eternal torrent whirls all ages along with it,
through both realms forever, and their voices are lost in
its thunderous roar.
In the end the early departed have no longer
need of us. One is gently weaned from things
of this world as a child outgrows the need
of its mother's breast. But we who have need
of those great mysteries, we for whom grief is
so often the source of spiritual growth,
could we exist without them?
Is the legend vain that tells of music's beginning
in the midst of the mourning for Linos?
the daring first sounds of song piercing
the barren numbness, and how in that stunned space
an almost godlike youth suddenly left forever,
and the emptiness felt for the first time
those harmonious vibrations which now enrapture
and comfort and help us.


Rainer Maria Rilke

Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming

bags... more like SUITCASES

As my mother would say... ba-dum *tish*

So incredibly indubitably ridiculously and ludicrously tired. I have finished with thesisaurus, finishing touches if any are required on the sun's day, but truth be told it has been basically done for a week and more now. Though in all fairness there is a great deal of difference between MOSTLY done and ACTUALLY done, like, with a TITLE and also a bibliography.... the whole title thing, I keep forgetting about it. It's not like you name your essays when you hand them in, I am simply not used to 'owning' my work to that extent.

But yes. I look like some sort of hag from the netherealm (invented word, spotted that didn't you) of Hel, yes one 'l' to all you damn waspy types, I am referring to that ice world of the norsemen. With Hel herself, daughter of Loki and some random giantess from Jotenheim or somewhere. Is it Jotunheim? I think it is. Musings on Icelandic myth, it is never too early in the morning to be thinking of these things. Says I. But who would listen to this crap anyway. My eyes are so puffy they are actually painful to keep open, and I have this sneaking suspicion that I am beginning to look something like perhaps a 34 year old mother of 8.

Wonderful glorious tea, gyokuro, with green tea cake and red bean and cane sugar and little green things that taste like crunch. That is actually their flavour. And you get to eat the tea afterwards, with soy sauce, in a little shallow dish that has some very scrape-y glaze on it, designed specially to set your fellow tablemates' teeth on edge. And once again, Hen and Ali are brilliant and I love them. They are so relaxing and natural. People who put you at ease. Or rather never give you reason to doubt your ease. Or something.

My best call of the evening for Scriptless was "Location?" - "Mexican bus stop". Went down quite well.

Damn my eyes! Simply not funny enough. And all pirated out from the cheering.

"On A Station in the Metro"
the apparition of these faces in the crowd
petals on a wet, black bough.

In the immortal words of Ezra.