this is a hopeless, unedited word-splurge and shouldn't be read by anyone, ever

You poor deprived things haven't been given any photos recently, have you?  Here are two for your ocular edification:



SUNSET, THE BACK OF MY APARTMENT, AUCKLAND, SOME NIGHTS AGO. TOLD YOU SUNSETS HERE WERE VIRULENT

SOME OF THE FLOWERS GROWN BY MY MOTHER AND GREAT-AUNT AND ARRANGED BY MY GREAT AUNT FOR OUR WEDDING.  LOOKING AT THEM MAKES ME HAPPY.

Flicking back over the last week or two, my usual word-vomits have become wee short missives.  I haven’t particularly felt the inspiration to do much but give you single paragraph whinges about my current housing status (no change: imminent eviction + nowhere to go). 

I’d really like to draft a proper essay one of these days, but I’m kidding myself.  If I can diligently continue posting, even short missives, I can pretend my writing is improving.  At the least, I’ll have a journal of sorts to look back on.  Justification complete.  Sometimes, the most satisfying dialogues are those you have with yourself (pffft, you say ‘monologue’-you-crazy-person, I say ‘dialogue’-there’s-at-least-two-of-me.)  Edit thyself, woman.  Can’t be bothered. 

Other odd and piecemeal updates:

BOWELS (because I said so):  5 months down the track and we’re looking good.  My mother and father are visiting India in March; my mum is already fretting about the state of her digestive tract because of our experiences.  We’re a sharing, caring sort of a family so she knows the finer detail (fuck me, I shared it with the internet, why wouldn’t I share it with my mum?)  She’s been to India before, too – so I’m sure she’ll be fine.  Aside from tummy troubles, we both love India and will eat dahl until the cows come home. 

HOUSEGUESTS: we has ‘em.  For the foreseeable future.  I’m *so good* with flatmates…no I’m not, I’m an intolerant asshole.  But a favour is a favour and repay it I will (isn’t that a SELFLESS sentiment….*cough*.)  Means I really ought to get on finding somewhere else to live so they’re not evicted with us, I guess.  That would be the HEIGHT of bad hostess behaviour!

SECRET SURPRISE WEEKEND: still a surprise for P, as far as I know.  He hasn’t let on if he does know something.  How I’m going to keep the secret for another two months and a week or so I have no idea. 

TWITTER: does it simultaneously entertain and annoy the bejesus out of you?  Straw poll.  I am having difficulty engaging meaningfully in twitter because when I tweet, I feel like an idiot.   Much more so than when I write long-windy wanky narcissistic shit here.  OH MY GOD I’m so DEEP AND COMPLICATED.

CULTURE: No longer has it.  Haven’t done/been to anything recently.  Oh yeah, fell asleep in James Bond (9pm screening with comfy chairs?  Please.  You know me better than to expect I’ll see much of the second half), got fidgety in the Hobbit (long.  LOOOONG.  Awesome.  Frustrating.  Long.)

Fin.  Enough.  I’ll be back when I can articulate a thought coherently.