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Nut Brown Maiden
November 30, 2003, 10:30 p.m. I have a tan line! I went swimming again today, although I spent more time sun-bathing than sea-bathing. It’s nice not to be completely pasty white. Last night I went to the Annandale to see Bluebottle Kiss play. This won’t mean anything to anyone living outside Australia, perhaps even outside Sydney, but suffice to say that the Annandale is a pub, Bluebottle Kiss are a band, and I had a good time. It’s funny, but I find I have a better time if I dance. If I dance, I’m forced to actually listen to the songs, to feel the emotion they’re trying to convey. Live music brings a whole new dimension to songs and music that I previously haven’t experienced. It’s almost like a more raw, more real version of the song, because it’s being played not two metres in front of me, and I can see as well as hear the musician’s intent. I also dance because I figure, if the musicians are willing to make a tool of themselves up on stage, I can at least reciprocate by making a tool of myself in amongst a whole bunch of other people who probably aren’t paying attention to me. Oh – freaky thing. After the show was over, I turned around, and standing behind me was this guy who looked like Elf-boy, only younger (and the Elf-boy looks pretty young anyway). I had to look twice to check it wasn’t actually Elf-boy. I think I shall give up on trying to drink alcohol. There are two reasons to do it: either for the effect or the taste. I don’t want the effect, and I can’t stand the taste. I tried drinking a cocktail called a Toblerone on Friday night, at a party, and I only managed to get about halfway through it before I had to give it to someone else. The taste of the alcohol was just . . . ugh. How can anyone like that stuff? I could find stuff that masks the taste of the booze better, but what would be the point of that? I could just as easily drink something non-alcoholic. A strange feeling has come over me, these past few days. I think I have too much time on my hands. Or something like that. Nothing is important enough for me to try to finish it, or even start it. It will get done, no doubt, just not yet. Later. In a little while . . . I am succumbing to sloth. I started cleaning my room about a week ago – it’s still not done. I started making envelopes for my Christmas cards a few days ago – I made two, and I’ve used those. I really need to get off my arse and get doing things *makes determined face* But then, what’s the point? I’ve all the time in the world . . .
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