Sundays are for chumps, I’m gonna go watch some Firefly.

Before I go, what has happened this week? Tomas is in town for TINA / the young writer’s festival. He stayed at my place the other night on his way to Newcastle. We went into the city and acted like dicks in front of the Sydney Opera House (see photo below) and then walked halfway across the harbour bridge (if you stand still on the walkway, you notice that the concrete is wobbly beneath your feet - it’s scary). Then we found probably the last Pizza Hut all-you-can-eat restaurant in existence and had a classy meal with red creaming soda and too many slices of pizza. Mmmm.

Kat is also in town and we hung out on Friday in Newtown. It was cool. Sadly no pizza hut action tho so there isn’t much to say about it.

Also, this week I wrote five poems about foxes. They are pretty cool. Foxes, that is, but the poems are ok too. Maybe I’ll type one out next week and put it up here.

Lets! Do! The! Time! Warp! Again!

Sorry. Quite distracted.

Facebook Graffiti is brilliant. It’s all the fun of MS Paint, but you can force people to look at your crappy picture.

Bataille. Bataille and his suns. And his eyes. And his sacrifices and mutilations. And his streams of excrement.

Then Lyotard with his Great and Concentratory Zeros. His centaurs and prostitutes.

Dammit, Nietzsche just had Apollo and Dionysus and everything was cool. But it got waaaaaaay complicated.

It’s doing my head in.

Oh, and Cavarero with her Demeter and Kore and Hades. *sigh*

Last night, I dreamed that comic book nerds were fitting me into a batman costume. Except instead of a black bodysuit, it was a frilly white wedding dress with a batman hood and pointy rubber ears.

I DON’T KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS AND I DON’T WANT TO KNOW.

Actually, in the dream I thought it was cool. I was just pissed because the outfit cost two hundred and fifty bucks.

Yesterday three people failed to give way to me within the space of half an hour. I think my bright yellow reflective cycling vest does not work very well, but I still hope it at least makes people feel stupid for not seeing me. Because they are.

Other things I have done this week are read some books entitled The Philosophy of Withcraft and Sexuality, Magic and Perversion (neither of which I could be bothered finishing, although the latter is fun to flick through), and join Facebook. Facebook is like myspace but all gadgety and cool. If you friend me we can send each other virtual pets or something. But I mostly just want people to look at my profile list of favourite music and books so everyone knows how awesome I am. Because I am.

I’m now going to be speaking at the Tactics of Resistance: Limitations & Possibilities conference, in addition to the conference of the Association for Political Theory. Yep. I am officially a conference whore.

I wonder if there’s free food.

It’s Che mixed with Ronald McDonald! Hilarious and meaningful!

I didn’t go to the big APEC protest yesterday. Totally slept in. Meh. I think I would have been bored into leaving early by all the speeches anyway.

I ought to go and get a book out at the library, but I have this suspicion that I don’t actually like books. Or, you know, that there really isn’t a book that I want to read at the moment. I guess I want something that won’t seem like I’ve read it before. Maybe I’ll get some Bataille. I don’t know if it will work, but it’s cool to have Bataille sitting around your house anyway.

first part | second part

These links take you to a site full of pictures taken by a Ukrainian woman who rides her motorbike through the no-go zone around Chernobyl. You really need to have a look. There are lots of half-caved-in houses, derelict apartment blocks and nameless abandoned villages. And there’s one shot of a creepy homeless guy passed out on the grass. It’s unbelieveable.

There are rivers full of abandoned container ships.

You know what? There are a lot of really lame Ramones songs. Some of their stuff is great but the rest of it is a bunch of crap, just like with The Doors. Contrast ‘Judy is a Punk’ (one of my favourite songs of all time) with ‘Something to Believe In’ - and, well, there is no contrast is there? I think this means that all the teenyboppers who wear Ramones t-shirts but haven’t heard many actual Ramones songs are actually on the right track.

Hey, guess what? I have two papers that have been in review for at least six months. Total of zero actually published, and these two are so deep in review that they must have become permanently lodged in the bowels of those insidious journals. One is in the Czech Republic - I bet they haven’t even worked out how to read it yet. Will my precious papers ever make it out? I wonder because just yesterday I sent another one out, and I’m trying to get number four into shape now. It’s like I’m throwing my work into a whirlpool that devours it without a trace.

Oh and hey, is it wrong that I really like Californication with David Duchovny? I wonder if Gillian Anderson will make a guest appearance…

My face is staring back at me from a black and white band poster on my desk. There must be something written on the other side.

Oh, a picture of the dvorak keyboard layout.

Damn I look ugly in that photo.

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Today I bought a Lonely Planet. The guy at the desk was Canadian and he said, “Fuck, it’s cold there. Go see the autumn leaves.” Well, that’s the condensed version.