an absurd place to be living in.

The front page story of the Saturday paper is about Camden, and some stupid woman claiming to be the new Pauline Hanson. My reaction is to cough my tea all over her picture, staining her skin. Now she looks like one of those she's trying to get rid of. It's a school. A religious school. As an atheist, I'm opposed to religion in any form, especially when its forced down your throat. But I think I'd rather have an Islamic school where kids are being taught the good points of Islam, where they're learning and not hating, as opposed to festering a culture of hate and suspicion.

And our shiny new prime minister isn't all he's cracked up to be. At least with John Howard we knew to expect bigotry and fear. With Rudd, we were promised innovation, excitement and change. Instead we've gotten someone who kowtows to the majority. Being let down by Kevin Rudd is like being bitten by the big dumb family Labrador. You can't jump to conclusions, Mr Rudd. You just can't. When I read your reaction to the Bill Henson "scandal" I wanted to slap you. Jump the way of the religious, jump the way of the housewives. Don't bother doing any research, Mr Rudd. Enjoy tea with Cate Blanchett instead. Let the country slip into some sort of police state where free expression is suppressed and we're all too scared to be independent individuals.

Living in Australia is like living inside an Arrowroot Biscuit. Boring, beige and frustrating - but with a hint of sugar to remind you of just how lucky you are not to be living anywhere else.

a moment of contrast

the new Sigur Ros song, "Gobbledigook" is best played loud. it's simply beautiful. it's a community in song, its promises and sunrises. it's a moment of perfection. it's warm cups of tea and chewy chocolate biscuits. it's goofy smiles and those mad moments where you forget how old you are supposed to be and start behaving how old you feel (five.) it's days when the winter chill gets a little too deep and sends you back to bed with your old teddy bear. it's going down to the woods. i mentioned how brilliant it was, right?

x

both my arms are still sore from needles that i had on monday. my right shoulder and neck are aching from a bad dream. i burnt my tongue on my morning coffee. i have nine days before i go away and no visa. don't remind me. today is not a fantastic day. i tried to read my book and got a papercut. i decided to curl up in my hoodie and be emo, but couldn't find the fucking thing. then i realised that being emo would mean id have to listen to fucking joy division or fall out boy, and im not in the mood for that. the only thing good about today is a song that i discovered yesterday. today is not a fantastic day. i think i better try again tomorrow.

we miss being deviants

my doctor has one of those smiles that should come with a warning. sadistic people should not be allowed to take blood or give injections. her stash of american brand lollipops mollifies me. slightly. she wants postcards from brussels and berlin. my tongue turns an unnatural blue as she lectures me about contraception, eating properly and my mental health. i'm half listening, busy compiling a list of things i need to sort out in the next week. my visa hasn't come back yet. i haven't deposited a cheque from my grandparents. i have to buy electrical adaptors, get my phone fixed. i have to pack, buy new toothpaste and double check addresses. a sharp jab to my upper right arm startles me, and my doctor smiles, shark-like at me again. "tetanus booster" she explains, and i nod. "can i have another lollipop?" receives an eyeroll, another blue sugar hit, and "get out of here before i have to treat you for diabetes!" i scamper, sore. before i cross the threshold, my doctor calls out "i'll miss you, kiddo." i wave my hand behind me, an acknowledgment. but i won't look back. that was part of the plan. don't look back.

xx

hey, so i really really hope you're happy. that wedded bliss really is bliss. that it's everything you ever thought it would be. i wanna know though - are you satisfied, satiated yet? or are you a little emabarassed that you were splashed all over the glossy pages, fetching a not so glamorous price of $4.95? do you look at the photos and wonder if this is what you wanted? because i do. i look at them, and i think that i used to know you so thoroughly, and that if you were the same person you were then, (you keep claiming nothing's changed) well, i think you are embarrassed and worried and self conscious. but i hope that you're in love and that you're happy. or something like that. whatever helps you sleep at night.

i'm never going to understand the appeal of celebrity.

my father leaves in a taxi, blurred. it should be more momentous that this, there should be string music and slow motion. but all that happens is that reality hits me very very hard in the throat. six months might pass before i see him again, and suddenly i'm a little older, a little more independent. probably a little more scared because for once, i'm going to have to do stuff on my own. i can't decide if that's what i wanted, but i don't think what you want matters that much

xx

i was never one for grand philosophical statements. i was always more prone to bile and bitter, alcohol and anger, denial and dependence. i had ink on my fingers long before i got my first tattoo, and by the time i got my second, i had more than enough words on my tongue to win a war. i was always hungry, and my motto has always been more

is that what you wanted to know?

the first is always the worst

In fifteen days, WYSLAF will go international. I'm taking myself and my skirts and my dresses overseas to see what sort of havoc we can cause. london first, then we hit europe.

This blog takes its name from the song "Lit Up" by The National, and the line "you wear your skirt like a flag and everything surrounds you" because I don't own any jeans, pants, shorts or trousers. I believe in the power of skirts and dresses. It's called Heresy Couture, and nobody does it as well as I do.

old blog lives here

don't expect updates every day. this blog is going to be like. my old one mixed with streams of ranting about traveling to save me sending emails to people.