The Last Bastion Of Absurdity

Well, it's been a bit of a week. On Monday night I noticed an odd lump on the left side of my neck, just at the base of my skull. Having been sitting in front of the computer all day, I thought it must be a tension knot, despite never having had a protruding one like that. BUT THEN I felt two tiny ones right next to each other lower down on my neck, kind of like someone had surgically implanted smarties beneath my skin when I wasn't looking. Naturally I was a bit freaked out, I mean, what? LUMPS? NECK CANCER! But then I told my mum, who immediately took over ALLLLLL OF THE WORRYING DUTIES and flailed around calling all my grandparents and This One Friend Of Hers Who Is A Doctor. I promised to make a doctor's appointment forthwith, which turned out to be Wednesday, so she decided to continue to panic.

( We cut to a commercial break as Maggie contemplates the ultimate destiny of... NECK LUUUUMPS! ...actually this is mostly about buses and thespians, sry )

Thing Of The Day: RIOT NRRD, a webcomic linked from Tiger Beatdown, which is SO VERY ADORABLE. I mean its name is RIOT NRRD, for fuck's sake. It basically does what it says on tghe tin :P also JOSS WHEDON PUPPYYYYY. I totally made a DW feed :P

I did that thing again. The thing where I don't post for ridiculous lengths of time because a post about some big event is just a-sittin' there in my draft box, steadily receding into the past. I know, we're all shocked.

So I really did spend most of that month procrastinating. I didn't even get much further in Portal, because I was hit by that curious mental tic whereby doing anything substantial is Admitting I Am Not Doing Work. Unlike, say... compulsively refreshing twitter and playing solitaire.

Yup.

But I finally handed everything in, not too late if you don't count extensions, and only slightly under all the given word-counts. Probably a lot of it was a bit shit, but oh well. I got at least one decent poem out of the Culture & Poetics final, a decent novel opening that I can hammer into better shape later (and the realisation that HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS NOVELS ARE LONG), and I had fun writing about tiny communists for Utopias. The stress was probably good for me! Or something.

My final extension ran out oh... a couple of hours before my volunteering gig at Supanova began. So that was good timing! I even managed to get my hair properly bleached for the first time on the way (which: holy burning sensation, Batman!) and which was handy for my Corinthian costume, seen here albeit not in sufficient detail to see the awesomeness of the facepaint on my eyelids. It was generally agreed to be a great outfit! Also, the sunglasses made me feel extremely badass standing next to queues with my arms folded and telling people when they can go forward and when they are in danger of turning into a snarling mob. That was handy because on Saturday morning I got commandeered for that particular duty at the Supanova Store just after doing my make-up but before getting a) my badge and official shift-times and b) breakfast. This is because a shitload more people showed up than expected and allllll of them wanted Lou Ferrigno autographs. Well, no, all the scruffy middle-aged men wanted Lou Ferrigno autographs, everybody else wanted Eliza Dushku autographs. We were so swamped that the coordinators couldn't find anyone to relieve me for another ~three hours (by which time McDonalds were no longer serving breakfast). I felt very put-out about this until I discovered that Jenn, Mish and Nat were about three times as swamped at the photobooth, because everyone and their mum wanted a photo with Eliza or Summer Glau.

Sydney Supanova is held in a big dome thing out in Olympic Park. I camped out at Al's place because a) he actually lives on a train line which significantly reduced my travel time and b) the man is some sort of crazy morning person and was pretty much certain to ensure I was going to be awake by seven. (The whole relationship thing is going well, by the way!) Somehow I still managed to be late on Saturday morning though (hence the lack of breakfast). That is because trains and me? We are not friends. We are not even frenemies, we are more like a rickety wooden bridge over a canyon, and a semi-trailer. I should probably put the rest of this story behind a cut, huh? Ahhh, the return of my epically long posts :D

( TRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINS sorry, no, I mean FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAILS no wait, excuse me, this is so embarrassing, EXPLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINS fuckit )

Today was a good day for the nervous system! Low pain levels, a few spots of numbness but Doc Arkady warned for that - I'll give him a buzz if it's worse tomorrow, but it shouldn't be doing anything horrible. Not so much luck on the skeletal front, no less than seven joints came loose and had to be popped back into place - by number four my dad was grimacing harder than I was! It does look worse than it feels, I'm told 65% of a general population sample will usually experience nausea at the sight of a musculomechanical connection point. No problem with one or the other, or even the diagrams, usually. Only the juxtaposition in the flesh, so to speak.

Of course that can't be a problem for me.

I found some more hair and peelings on my pillow this morning - it looks like the entire right side is rejecting the skin grafts... or rather the skin's rejected me, and honestly I'd feel lonely too if I was half a scalp with steel where my bone foundation ought to be. I suppose I ought to get rid of the other side's worth, too, but on the other hand a single pigtail might look nice. Sort of gives a softer touch. Not that anyone's touching it, for all that matters. CallMeEvelyn keeps telling me to write down all my, you know, feelings, along with the physical crap, but I say it's only a matter of time before they replace those with motor oil as well, and what's the point. But fine: ventures outside today - one (milk went bad early. Who needs the calcium anyway, am I right?) Recoils - nine and a half (and I'm being generous, but she checked herself and smiled, so fuck it). Outright hate-speech: three. Flirting and/or plain comeons: nil, again. What the hell did the goddamn shrink bother warning me about mech-perverts for if none of them hang around here, that's what I want to know. Oh, and the fucking protestors are back, because some fucker insisted on full fucking media disclosure and letting David fucking Koschie interview the fucking Cute Ones, isn't that right, DaveAndAngela? FUCK YOU. I said boo to one of them, he nearly fainted. Mankind For Man indeed, more like Mankind For Fucking Wusses, right?

Anyway, how're y'all doing out there? Did someone get out to John's place and rescue him from the Dullest Hospice Worker In Existence? I know the guy can't walk or talk but when she's around, who'd wanna? Also Fi!! You never posted about Cute Comic Book Store Guy!! Cough it up, dammit, some of us are living vicariously here!

Oh fuck my back is killing me. Here is the epic tale, y'all!

I left the house all behatted and eyelinertastic, with special accessory: Soapy the rubber snake. I used him as a hatband. More for my benefit than for the all of three people who might notice and get it. I giggled, okay? ... ....GET THIS MOTHERFUCKING SNAKE OFF MY MOTHERFUCKING HAT. ANYWAY. The sky was still grey so I looked for an umbrella on my way out but my house was sadly brollyless. I therefore decided to buy one on my way there. I found a little black one for fifteen bucks at central station - not, alas, little enough, because it didn't fit into my bag. I think you all know what happened next. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I believe I have set the world record for briefest ownership of an umbrella - it got on that train with me and never left. RIP may it go to a good home ETC.

Once I got off the train it was a simple matter of playing follow-the-scene-kid until Acer Arena came into view. There I swiftly entered through the wrong door, was forced to throw away my water bottle (such a scam, make you buy things inside), went back out those doors and around the stadium, got stopped and told my bag was too big, took a slight detour via coat-check where I realised that since I wasn't taking my bag IN I could have kept my water for AFTER instead of chucking it away (SCAM SCAMMITY SCAM SCAM) but alas! Twas too late. I went straight into the General Admission Rear Standing area, confirming that I was an idiot and should have gotten pit tickets - or possibly seated ones. Visibility was not brilliant. I was however early enough to claim a spot behind a very short girl who soon moved, so I was at the barrier for most of Cobra and TAI. This meant I had something to lean on and I could sit down on the floor between sets, at least until it got more crowded. I then had the following dilemma: if I moved from my spot to go stretch my legs or sit down properly, it was highly unlikely that I'd get back there. So I stayed throughout the Aussie opening act, Chain Gang (Killer legs on that lead singer, was she even wearing pants? WHO KNOWS! Drummer girl definitely wasn't wearing a top. Although it must get pretty hot up there - if I drummed I'd do it in a bikini too), Cobra Starship and The Academy Is... before finally giving in during the pre-Panic break and going for a seat and the merch booth.

Both our reptilian friends and their partners in hilarity were awesome and indulged in some microphone swinging lulz. At one point William actually picked up the microphone stand by the base and tossed it from hand to hand for no readily apparent reason. Speaking of William, he came out during Cobra's set for Snakes On A Plane (with Sisky for the rap-verse) and - you know what, I am going to stop here and just say. Is there much hermaphrodite!William fic? Aside from that Big Bang fic where he changes gender occasionally and nobody really notices. Because for fuck's sake is that guy male or female? WHO KNOWS! The eye just constantly trips up on that figure and goes "Uh... is there seriously a dick inside those tiny, tiny jeans? Seriously? SERIOUSLY!?" Of course the rest of the body then replies "but you'd do hi- h- it anyway, right?" Whatever, it is news to nobody that William Beckett's gender classification is "hot" but it's really striking in person.

Other opening antics: Gabe was very affectionate towards Ryland and Vicky-T onstage. Ryland gave us some hot boy-on-guitar action (seriously that was some extremely rhythmic thrusting he had going there). Cobra's songs are totally better live than they are on record. William walked into the crowd right at the end of TAI's set. He also made mention of Michael Chislett's aussie heritage, of course. I felt like a complete tool doing the Fangs Up sign during Cobra's set but I did it anyway. When Siska came out with Cobra for Snakes On A Plane I giggled so hard at his stature. Flanked by Gabe and William he was like a leetle doll - then he walked off past Vicky, who is SLIGHTLY taller than him - and also SLIGHTLY FEMALE. I was also reminded how much I really like Santi - I was just not a fan of TAI's first album, but they have improved in leaps and bounds since then.

In the break before Cobra and TAI I turned around and leaned back on the barrier to try and console my loudly protesting back a little, even though this meant constant eyecontact or obvious eyecontact avoidance with the people behind me. I don't know why, but I can walk for hours without a back complaint, yet standing still for thirty minutes has the union out with picketlines and marching bands. My posture must be really really fucked or something. Anyway by the end of TAI's set I was ready to maim so I gave up my awesome barrier-side spot and wandered out to sit in an actual chair and get merch. Also I heard on a comm that William had a tendency to come out and be gawked at for a bit around that point in the evening. This was confirmed, but I didn't bother to gawk because he was completely blocked from view by fans and I was in line for merch - cost-benefit analysis was WAY unbalanced. I got a black Cobra Starship T-shirt, incidentally.

I returned with shirt in hand to find the crowd much thicker at the barrier. I eventually found a place where I could see over shoulders (edging between some guy and a girl who kept elbowing me) and eventually the girls in front of me left (in a bit of a hurry - hope they were okay) so I ended up just behind a bunch of kids about ten-twelve and therefore with the same visibility I had before - only nothing to lean on. I ended up sort of shifting in place to the music constantly even when the crowd around me were not dancing because it was just less painful.

Panic finally came on with their massive floral backdrop - the animations on the screen were pretty clever, very Yellow Submarine (I know for a fact that everybody groans at a Beatles comparison by this point, but that is what they reminded me of). snarkaddict said I should text her about Spencer's faaace but even if our mobiles had not mysteriously failed to communicate Spencer's faaaace and most of the rest of him was completely invisible from where I was standing - all I got was the dynamics. "Yes, yes, I can definitely tell he's moving his arms. In rhythm even! How exciting!" I could also tell Jon Walker was very happy to be there, he was practically jumping up and down for the first song. At one point Brendon tried his hand at a little screaming - it was sort of hilarious. Just imagine that guy in a punk band oh god. Ryan rambles a bit onstage, heh. During Folkin Around he swapped places with Jon because of technical difficulties with a tambourine.

They played most of the new stuff - not when The Day Met The Night or From A Mountain, but the rest. Also a good deal of the first album, reminding me how much I liked it in the first place - I haven't listened to it properly in ages. Laced. With. Nitroglycerin! Hee. For an encore Brendon came out with a guitar and played Time to Dance almost-acoustic with audience participation instead of the keyboard riff, then the others came back on and they finished with Mad As Rabbits. Brendon said this was his favourite show ever - I bet he says that to all the audiences ;) and I think he was kind of amused by the indiscriminate screaming - they kept answering him by squealing at the top of their voices regardless what he was actually trying to say, lol.

When I got out I had to stand in line outside to get my bag and coat back - it was freezing! It was also raining slightly but my hat was useful and I walked briskly to the train station, whistling the "danana hey hey goodbye" theme they worked into Mad As Rabbits. By the time I got off the train it was really pouring down - but I was in luck! It turned out that, bereft of umbrellas as my house had appeared, this was partly because one was hiding in my very bag. Slightly dodgy one, of course, but it kept the worst off for the walk to the bus stop. I cursed all the way for my unnecessary (and brief ;_;) umbrella purchase.

All in all good times but I don't ever want to go to a concert without company again - it's just not as much fun. I should have tried harder to find someone to go with. Also, friends could hold places in the crowd while I wrestled my back into submission. I'm going to be sore tomorrow, oh. I'd better go to sleep, anyway, it's early.

Oh man, why don't I have more Vampire Weekend music? They did a cover of Exit Music (For A Film)! That's awesome! Speaking of music, sometimes misheard lyrics are cooler than the real ones. I speak specifically of Panic At The Disco. I mean yes, "like moths upon old scarves" does make more sense in context than "like mouths upon old scars" but... *sigh*

So, my Rethinking Culture tutor thinks my first assignment was absolutely wonderful except for that little thing where he can't mark it higher than a Pass because there were no references. OOPS. He actually drew a sadface on my eval! No lie! It says "you've _spoiled_ an otherwise terrific piece of work :-(" at the end. It also contains the phrase "But.. but... only one inclusion of cultural studies material?" I can just see him making a sad puppy dog face at my essay. ROFL.

Today was sort of made of fail in general. The temperature plummeted at some point while I was visiting my grandparents on Monday, because when I walked back to the bus stop I was shivering. I also woke up a few times in the night because I was FUCKING FREEZING, and then again at 7:15 because I forgot to reset my alarm clock from yesterday's morning wake up call. Then I naturally fell asleep again until TWENTY PAST NOON at which point I rolled out of bed going SHIT SHIT SHIT ONE PM CLASS.

I figured I could make it if I got the twelve thirty bus, which left no time for breakfast, so I'd drop by Oporto's along the was to take advantage of their convenient All Day Breakfast. alas! Twas not to be, for they have taped over the "all day" on the sign with a sticker that says "until eleven am." THANKS FOR NOTHING, DELICIOUS PORTUGESE CHICKEN MAKERS. I ended up getting a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich from the crappy little cafe at the bus stop. It's not actually crappy in the traditional sense, it's actually quite nice looking with like focacias and stuff, but apparently they do not understand the meaning of "sandwich." In my experience a sandwich generally has two pieces of bread on either side of the filling, for ease of one-handed eating on public transport. Also so that the cheese doesn't STICK TO THE PAPER BAG, FUCKERS. It wasn't even that good.

Anyway, I missed half the lecture. Sad, it was on subcultures. I felt very awkward in tutorial because I had many opinions I couldn't quite put words to. I didn't know the topic until I got there and hadn't had time to think about it. I wanted to mention fandom, but then I was kind of like "...how the hell do I explain this? Nobody here will have any clue what I'm talking about without like, a whole essay of background." In the end I just said my internet niche was kind of a confluence between the geek subculture and the pop-punk/emo subculture. Which was a bit simplistic but. Whatever. Maybe I'll write my final essay on this topic, if it still bugs me.

I just got home from a faintly blurry school day, only to discover that my whipped cream is no longer whipped. A quick squiz at the ingredients list¹ will reveal that it was only nominally cream in the first place, so by rights the whole thing should just cancel itself out. Instead, what we get is sort of... creamy... drizzle. Still good for pie! And crumble. And pudding. Speaking of pudding, one of the myriad of tiny things that stop me short and wave leetle "SCHOOL. IT SHALL BE OVER. FOREVAR" flags at me²: the wednesday market at Fox Studios. I usually wander over in my free periods to snaffle free samples of cheese and mayonnaise and weird sort of not-crackers. The thing I most often actually buy is sticky date pudding³, and I'm clearly a regular customer because the girl at the counter always smiles at me and gives me discounts. This feels odd, and yesterday it occurred to me that after the ninth of November I will have no reason to be hanging around there on a Wednesday. Sic transit... pudding.

Speaking of school, our principal (like my mother) works in mysterious ways. Today I was at the office, getting a heatpack (I told you it was a blurry day) when she strode into the room, brandishing a piece of fancy paper.

"I need an instant audience!" she proclaimed. I clutched my pain relief and edged away.

"That means you too!" Dr Vazza cried.

"..." I said. She proceeded to present some kind of impromptu award to someone called Kerry. I resumed my edging, but she whirled around and pointed at me.

"Where are you going?!" she demanded. "Clap!"

I clapped. We hear and obey, O Vazza.

Tuesday night half my drama class went to see The Story Of The Miracles At Cookie's Table, by Wesley Enoch and awesome. I failed at buses⁴ on the way there, quite a lot. For a while I distracted myself from my aching shins (for some reason, that's where it hurts when I walk too fast...) by giggling at the phrase "Public Transport Error: Please Reboot Universe" but it could only provide so much amusement and I was still cranky when I finally got there, amazingly on time. The Doctor Who fans among us were trying to explain the concept of the creatures that turn to stone when you look at them. The rest of us didn't quite get it at first until we realised that you can't blink or they'll get you oh my god. Jaws actually dropped! (I think Evelyn will have nightmares.) Then I stuttered a lot, we got front row seats (and nearly impaled by strategically flung forks) and a good time was had by all.

In lulz today, this squirl is pissed, by which I mean fucked, by which I mean on the lam, on a bender and off it's fuzzy little face on pumpkin wine. WIN.

---

¹How exactly does one invert syrup?
²Like a meeting discussing Year Twelve 007 Tshirts, or trying to make a study timetable (go on, laugh) and realising that in two months I won't have any exams to study for.
³It's really, really nice. And the sauce is just brilliant, and, guh. Alas, they don't sell individual portions anymore (well, she made me an exception once because she'd already split a double for a friend of hers) so I have to convince someone to share one with me. Luckily I have lately converted Chloe to the Joys Of Pudding.
⁴So what else is new, I know, I know.