Another Displaced Sydneysider Rant

Oh Mayhem, how I miss you! From your blog, this description of Smellbourne made me giggle very very much, and get even MORE homesick! And try to resign myself to the total beige of Perthern Suburbia, after all, I'm writing up a tome to and the lack of bright/shiny/sparkly/vibrant/pulsating/breathing/trashy/exuberant persons and activities is a GOOD thing as far as that is concerned. Now, your recollection:

'...watching the audience members enter - and witness ALL THE ART ACADEMICS WEARING BLACK. I don't just mean the odd pair of faded jeans, a t-shirt, or a jacket - but the fully fledged raven look; muted hair, tailored flowing robes of fine light absorbing garments around the small wraith like forms of the females, and impeccably tailored, impeccably noir shirts and jeans for the menfolk. I'd joked about this in sydney - washing out the last of the orange dye from my hair, and buying a black leather jacket - but here confronted with a monochrome swarm of screaming class conformity I shuddered and quickly slunk out the back of the lecture theatre.....

Such traumas make it a bit hard to stay motivated for my tome completion - but that's what i'm here for - the final sweaty slog of editing, reshaping, structuring...... all in the absence of distraction from teaching, parties or bright colours......

I went and bought bright pink curtains for the study.'

So far I have just shaved my head, and am in the process of working on a garbage bag and gaffa tape ensemble for tonight's clubbing venture. Ah, Sydney on Wednesday!
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Sod it, scrolling through more Mayhem and came across these snippets and she sums things up so much better than I ever could sometimes, so here they are! Also, I am laughing so hard that I am literally crying and can't do much more than cut and paste through the tears:

'Sometimes I think it would be nice if writing wasn't so bloody INTENSE.

I had a vague hope that doing a tome would force me to be less insane about writing and my undergraduate habits of procrastinating into a feverish wallow of self loathing before bursting into a mad-panic flight of adrenalin fueled insanity - would be resolved... and I'd become one of those earnest dogged rational types.......

I mean wallow/panic/boom/bust/collapse cycle works well for 1500 word rants - but not for 90 000 words surely..... alas - and this is a very sorry admission....... It hasn't changed - just intensified........ My mental "sound bytes" now consist of 10 000 word chunks - imagined in an instant and executed in a sleepless sweaty mania......

I eat too much, don't move, don't wash, grunt at Renaissance girl and trip over the cat......

Having realised that writing is rewarding but insane unhealthy and unsustainable, I'm kind of wondering what I should take up next as a rational form of income sustenance........'

and
'I've been faffing around in extremis dodo avoiding writing up/reediting/amending some article that I wrote AGES ago for some publication.... and I've gone beyond a point of such abject stupidity where I can't even write a sentence and I've been facebooking myself stupid, and sewing gratutious vulvas (Last night it was gratuitous pink & silver Kylie minogue faggot vulvas in tribute to the repressed selves of Jake and Ines coz we were watching Brokeback Mountain) and indulged EVERY SINGLE eating disorder I can mention (icecream, tim-tams, cheese singles, cheese spread, peanut butter on toast, dahl, duck, 2minutes noodles, brown rice, finnish licorice, wasabi peas, blueberries, silverbeet, etc... etc... etc......

and I haven't seen any art, and I haven't done any exercise, and I haven't done any writing, and I didn't go to reclaim the night, and I haven't had any beer, and I haven't seen any friends except that one friend I randomly ran into by chance, and I'm got the PERFECT PLACE to work hard and not be distracted.... but fuck o fuck - life sans horror crises pressure is..... WHAT?'