beautiful monsters

Do I seem like a violent criminal?

Quote of the day

"Police regard graffiti spraying as the second criminal act in a line that leads from littering through graffiti to vandalism and violence."
- Professor Graham W. Ashworth CBE Director General of the Tidy Britain Group.

Oh no! I missed out on a stage of my development. I never littered. Now I'll never be a proper vandal.

The sound of pages

Each week in my print culture course we have little assignments related to the topic of the week. This time, we were supposed to investigate eBooks. We were supposed to pretend we were going to buy our favourite novel, and investigate prices, software etc. I couldn’t find my favourite book. Or my second favourite book, or my third... or anything in the top fifty. Apparently my favourite books are not Popular Enough to be Economically Viable as eBooks. After much fruitless searching, I had a brainwave. I enjoyed reading The Hours a few years ago, and since it has just been made into a movie, I figured there must be an eBook available. Yup, bingo.

The site I eventually (hypothetically) settled on claimed that eBooks have many advantages over paper books. The only one I agreed with was "you can carry 10 books around..." well, I do that anyway, but at the moment it breaks my back. Trouble is, an eBook would only improve the situation if I had a hand held computer. Carrying my desktop around would not be fun. Not to go into how many hours I already spend glued to my screen. I don’t need any more encouragement.

The site also claimed that reading an eBook is fundamentally the same experience as reading a paper book. Hmmmmm. When I picked up my copy of The Hours this morning, I remembered the day I bought it. It was the day before my trip to Europe. I was wandering around my favourite bookstore, and asked someone for some suggestions. She handed me Pages For You, and as I read the back cover, I wondered if she knew, somehow, that I was queer – and how she knew. Perhaps her gaydar was just more advanced then mine. Back then I was still trying to come out to people and getting the response "but you don’t look like a lesbian," so it was marvelous for this shop keeper to hand me this exquisitely written story of two women falling in love... for her to hand me this book, knowing, understanding, that I would love it. Then she handed me another, The Hours, and said, "This one is by a man, but it’s really rather beautiful," and I said "oh, some of my best friends are men," and she laughed. As she walked to the back of the shop, I stood there, turning the books over in my hands, relishing the covers... and wondering how she knew, when I’d only exchanged a few words with her. I walked out, cradling the books against my chest. Nah, Typing in my credit card number and downloading the text just wouldn’t be the same.

Just now, when I opened my (slightly tatty) paper copy of The Hours, a ticket from Ostersund to Stockholm fell out. For a moment I was back in a train speeding through the Scandinavian night, fingering the pages of the book, my tears staining the paper, the smooth cover beneath my cheek as I slept. Sure, it’s fundamentally the same experience. Just like Genetically Modified food is Substantially Equivalent to organic food. Yeah, right.

Resolution

I’ve decided to go to Womad... cos I think I’ll get more out of it, cos I want to go to Taranaki, cos my parents are going and I miss them. Ani will be back, I’m sure.

Competition

Went to a poetry slam last night. I came second (and won some money) which was nice, but I came away with very mixed feelings. I don’t like poetry being competitive. It just feels wrong. But I think there will always be elements of competition. The course I did last year, they only accepted 12 people for it, and lots of people missed out... so that’s a kind of competition. And I’m glad I did the course – I loved it! But I still feel uncomfortable with the competitive aspects of the workshops. I don’t like the suggestion that some poems/poets are better/worthier than others.

At the same time, part of me wants to be accepted into that whole world. I want to be published in journals, I want people to say nice stuff about my writing, I want to be taken seriously! And at the same time I hate myself for wanting all that, because if I "succeed" in a competitive way, it means that someone else has failed.

And... I don’t want to be a literary snob! I never want to consider myself someone who writes Poetry with a capital P.

I just want to write.

I worry too much

I'm worried about eProps. Where do they come from? Are they a renewable resource? What if I run out and I can't give them to people, maybe no one will want to be my friend anymore. What do they actually mean? What if there's a whole secret language of eProps that I don't even understand? What if I become emotionally dependent on people giving me eProps. Can you become addicted to eProps?

Brilliance

My mum sent me a huge parcel of MDs. She sent me a recording of my Aunt being interviewed by Kim Hill, some Radio NZ programmes about Te Tiriti, a Yo Yo Ma CD, Silk Road... and best of all, copies of some of the LPs I used to listen to as a kid. She sent me the Barrow Poets "Aloysius Barley and the Islands of the Moon," and it is so clever, and so funny, and so brilliant in every way. She also sent me a copy of "Ain’t it Great to Be Crazy." She thought it might still appeal. I love my mother, she’s wonderful! I’ve been driving everyone nuts singing the songs all day... I ran into an old friend, and he used to listen to "Ain’t it great to be crazy" when he was a kid, and so we were standing in Cuba St singing at the top of our voices and bursting into hysterics – it was great!

Loveliness...

...is getting to know someone over hot chocolatey drinks... talking for hours... being asked the kind of questions that make you think, and then really think... sitting beside the harbour at night, listening to the waves, the lights flickering over the water... hugging goodbye and not wanting to let go...

...realising that the pain of losing someone is no longer so unbearable... knowing that there will be new friends who will laugh with you, who will hold you as you cry, who will leave their fingerprints on your heart.

Update on the drinking chocolate situation

I only had two today... that’s a considerable improvement. I only have a moderate headache... but I can’t sleep and I feel slightly shaky.

Must be strong. Must not think about ch*c*l*t*.

Posted by Fionnaigh at February 11, 2003 06:04 PM