(no subject)
So I've been writing stories about lamp posts, eating the.most.delicious.organic.tinned.chickpeas.intheworld and finding an utter lack of emotion inside myself tonight, which really translates as GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!!! only I didn't. This is really a cry for help more than a journal post. Anyone who has room to put me up for a day, any day, we'll have a sleepover and I'll cook dinner for us, is most welcome to tell me so. Please?
Of course, this may have to wait until next week when I can afford food again. Hopefully I will have a house by then, but all this business with long weekends has destroyed Centrelink's loan-paying ... timeness, which is a replacement for a world I can't quite think of right now. But seriously, these chick peas are amazing. I'm eating them straight out of the can with a fork, and they taste delicious. Go! simple foods.
Although I was watching Moulin Rouge tonight, and that made me feel very romantic, for poetry, and calling myself a poet. I think 'poet' is the only classification that has ever engendered patriotic feelings in me. I was trying to get the Salvos to help me track down my biological father, but legally they can't because I don't have any proof that he's my father. He's not on the birth certificate, but apparently he fancied himself a poet too. Which makes me feel a little odd thinking about.
So I've been thinking that perhaps things like that are genetic, considering I didn't even know my biological father existed until I was seventeen and I seem to be turning out like him. So maybe it's genetically coded into me to end up a political poetic no-hoper at 28 with beautiful long hair unknowingly siring illegitimate children at a commune in New Zealand. Because I feel like I'm heading in the right direction in that case.
Of course, this may have to wait until next week when I can afford food again. Hopefully I will have a house by then, but all this business with long weekends has destroyed Centrelink's loan-paying ... timeness, which is a replacement for a world I can't quite think of right now. But seriously, these chick peas are amazing. I'm eating them straight out of the can with a fork, and they taste delicious. Go! simple foods.
Although I was watching Moulin Rouge tonight, and that made me feel very romantic, for poetry, and calling myself a poet. I think 'poet' is the only classification that has ever engendered patriotic feelings in me. I was trying to get the Salvos to help me track down my biological father, but legally they can't because I don't have any proof that he's my father. He's not on the birth certificate, but apparently he fancied himself a poet too. Which makes me feel a little odd thinking about.
So I've been thinking that perhaps things like that are genetic, considering I didn't even know my biological father existed until I was seventeen and I seem to be turning out like him. So maybe it's genetically coded into me to end up a political poetic no-hoper at 28 with beautiful long hair unknowingly siring illegitimate children at a commune in New Zealand. Because I feel like I'm heading in the right direction in that case.