KYLIE LOOK!

Self portrait #1

Love:

hammock

less foul temperatures

long weekend

reading

long phone calls...and short ones to loved people after a very long time

new films 

new cds

old playlists

my brilliant ideas (car....trips....ambitious plans to sew)

bmx banditry in the bush! (even if it means going by myself)

Don't Fight It and Feist

Once - film AND soundtrack

new old dresses 

chocolate, chocolate cake, chocolate soy milk...chocolate meat? 

my bed: a world of pillows and purples 

fake weddings in ancient gorges in 80s clothes 

red red wine

my bisportal status

the light right here right now

realisations that i am not the only one

friends

Hate:

funerals

feeling a million miles away

short trips home (though better than nothing)

bruises

drowning in a sea of red sand

jealousy

the smell of sewage 

idiot journalists 

idiots in general

sicknesses. and i don't mean colds. 

cancer (there, I got specific)

playing the same dull music everyday

the cost of flights outta here

forgetting how fucking awesome some people are

letting bok choy go off

disbanding

wondering where i should be 

broken mementos from overseas. (no, they are not "just thongs")  

drunk drivers

never fixing very broken bits of my clothes

tourists who freak out when you go to ride past them and jump right in your path

restricted access to alcohol

mines. especially uranium. especially 25km from your home. 

mood: Contemplative. Up after down. The Panics.  Fresh Vietnamese food under the stars.  Mega chocolate cravings in bed. 

if it's the last thing we ever do

It's a weird night.

Full moon, but more than that. 

On the coolest day this week the mercury hit 39. I ride around town eating hot air; it feels like i am sitting in front of a fan heater with my mouth open.

Even my eyes are overheating. 

the heat beats me up. Each time I leave the office it punches me in the face then follows me everywhere, nagging, tugging, pulling, squeezing and slowly pushing me over until I get home and collapse in bed. 

Today I lay down for a quick little nap and woke up two hours later. I missed soccer training, which didn't bother me. I had a shower, grabbed some vino and rode over to B's place with MIA's aching AND funky track about shanty towns in Africa, $20, on repeat to speed me up. 

B was hosting a BBQ. The second one this week. She's hosting le frenchies too. The pick of the soccer crew were there too, which was good, because I like a lot of them, and bad, because I like a lot of them. 

I ate some facon and salad and drank and chatted and caught up with someone I haven't spoken to properly in months. I'm glad we chat again.

The frenchies are trying their hardest to leave town. But town, and various components of their van's engine, are trying their hardest to make them stay. It would be good if they stayed one more night because we could climb a mountain in the full moon. If not, see them in France! 

When I turned up my friend A was loitering in B's driveway. He asked if I was alright and I said I was tired, as usual. I said it was the heat. He said it could be the fact that I was the only one that hadn't left Alice in months and months. He's a clever one.

In my semi-conscious on-my-way-towards-sleep state this afternoon I had been thinking about how bloody long it has been since I was home. It is tiring. I miss everyone. I miss the coast. I miss secret spots in the city. I miss wanting to get out of the city! I miss not being constantly thirsty. I mean constantly, constantly thirsty. Thirsty when you go to bed. Drink a litre and then wake up thirsty. Drinking countless waters when I am out, not to slow down my intake of alcohol but to avoid fainting (not guaranteed to work). 

Bring on Adelaide on March 2, and Sydney on March 14. 

I rode down the highway then took the back way to the main strip. Bo's imitation saloon was pumping out the hits of yesteryear. The new swanky bar next door lured people willing to don a shirt for a night out. A drunk girl in a red dress had invited herself into a council security car in the mall. I rode across the elevated walkway over the river. The air was cool - such relief! - and smelled of fire.  It is so dry my voice has dropped an octave, perhaps permanently. 

I put $20 on again, sped up, and went past my house because the song hadn't finished.  

mood: it was MIA and imitation meat...now sub audible hum's Toto cover and WATER 

Sorry

Finally.

I'll write more on the weekend. everyone has been asking what it was like to experience this historic moment here in the centre of the country, an area where many children were removed from their parents for various reasons. 

I'll tell you what it was like soon. Soon, when my head stops spinning and my throat stops paining and eyes stop blurring.

what a teeny tiny world

In mid 2006 I spent a fabulous week at a tiny, secluded Turkish beach called Rainbow Valley.

It was a highlight of my year traveling. 

I spent the whole week totally shut off from the rest of the world, hanging out with a group of about 10 backpackers from across the world who were working there for free rent and board (tents on the beach and delicious Turkish buffet). 

One of these people was Daniella, a 19 year old Mexican buddhist and a beautiful, lovely girl whose covers of Joni Mitchell and 'Blackbird' would silence the whole rowdy crew.  She is the only Mexican I have ever met and whilst we have kept in touch via sporadic emails, I never knew exactly where she was.

Fast forward to this week in January 2008. 

Erica moves to Mexico, population around 109 million.

Erica goes out one night and meets a lovely mexican who says, in an offhand manner, "oh you are Australian...do you know a girl by the name of [insert my name here]"

Now I know where Daniella is. She is in Puebla, and attending university with Erica. 

small. fekking. world. 

I love it. 

music: a folky instrumental covers of Metallica

mood: ready to lie down in bed under the window, listening to the rain ahhh

Answers

The recurring question:

Why the hell do I live here?

The answer:

Because of my backyard!

Last night, with a hangover having well and truly invaded and violently settled in my noggin, I went camping. 

14 great people. 3 cars. 1.5hours drive (hangover + motion sickness + motion = sickness). a quick dip in a waterhole and then we were there. We ate, we set up camp, we set alarms, we slept.

We got up at 3am and climbed for 3 hours to get this sunrise view:

 View from Mt Sonder

I can't remember how to rotate an image. This is Bec and some of the mighty crew on the summit. 

A des on a ledge

Not wheat. Flies slept on these til the sun rose...then they moved to us.

We finished the 16km round trip by 9am. It was very weird to be up at that time on a public holiday and to have scaled one of the largest mountains in central Aus before breakfast. 

With shaky legs and sweaty everythings we got back in the cars and went to another waterhole. I swam in my clothes then spent the trip home with my pants off. 

THAT is why I live in the middle of nowhere. 

mood: happy. tired. full.

music: 'Africa', Sub Audible Hum cover 

a new blog!

a new space.

a new dedication to telling stories.

and showing pictures.

and admitting things.

and thinking outside the box.

a new place to fill with tidbits, rants and observations, half-cooked ideas, simmering suppositions and pieces of my day, rather than shitloads of photos of drunk people you don't know and don;t care about.

Though of course the important ones will visit from time to time. 

A space beyond the realms of FB, where virtual postcards and notes come from me to you for the price of fish. No wait, for free. 

a new blog!

mood: lettuce

music: Howling Bells and Damien Rice