BRENNA HILLIER are you having grilled cheese for dinner AGAIN in direct defiance of all you know to be good and healthy??
I’ve held off talking about this publicly because I didn’t want a friend or family member to hear it first through a social media post, but others have been there, done that and the news seems well and truly broken now.
My big sister was found dead at about 0900 Wednesday morning. She was 35.
We don’t know with full certainty what happened yet, nor do we have a date or any details for the service.
She leaves behind three kids, not to mention a wide extended family and hugely varied group of friends.
I’m in Adelaide now, and I expect to be in SA for another week at least. I’ll be missing a lot of your lovely events; I’m sorry. I greatly appreciate your offers of food and flowers and will take you up on them when I’m back in Sydney; I don’t really have a fixed address right now.
Text or otherwise make private contact with me if you feel the urge. Things are tough.
I have a lot more to say about this but not yet. That is all.
- my limited backer edition copy of Amanda Palmer’s Theatre is Evil
- two freelance commissions
- a pair of Assassin’s Creed tablet gloves
- tolerance for those who cannot value me
- four lovers
- my Saint Harridan dog tag necklace, and the item I had threaded onto its chain, which was to me above all other things most precious in all the world
My sister sent me a parcel of old photos. They’re mostly of my cat, but there’s a few there of me at various (awkward) ages. It made me think about what I’d say to a younger me if I could.
- having to do your taxes for this financial year using a group certificate
- how difficult it is to be a femme lesbian when femmes get like, soooo much bullshit about being “fake dykes”
- your mortgage repayments
- how easily you put on weight
- the cost of parking
- the heat
- your excess energy
Recently I’ve been quite anxious and it makes it hard to get to sleep. One of the most effective tricks I’ve found is to pick a single word, built it into a nonsense phrase, and then iterate and expand via free association. Here’s one I chanted to myself a few dozen of times last night. It put me out in less than ten minutes, and I didn’t have any nightmares for the first time in a week. Don’t read anything into it.
Seeing women I like personally and admire professionally publicly chatting and joking about sex in hilarious and informative ways does two things to my brain:
01) It gives me hope that the Internet/world will one day be less disgustingly fraught with the kind of sexism that makes women feel uncomfortable having these kinds of discussions where men can see/hear them
02) It makes me wish I were that brave myself
Personally, I only hold hands. Just FYI.
I have decided to keep a journal of my staycation.
Monday: Woke up at 0630 in obedience to hard-won habits of healthy early rising. Did not hate everything. Considered getting up so as not to begin next week with appalling jetlag. Pondered this for a solid hour then slept another two.
Went to the bank with Alan. Admired pie in a window. Bought a book, and some things. Learnt more about current trends in men’s shoe fashion than is good for anybody to know. Ate noodles. Had many conversations about income disparity and late stage capitalism and how much I like holidays.
Went drinking with full intent to be civilised. Got home at 0530 with an interesting collection of inexplicable bruises and a new appreciation for monkeys.
Tuesday: Did not get out of bed. Swore to be a better person forever.
I wrote this last night (except the last sentence) because it was that or sit inside my brain.
It’s suicide awareness week or some shit this week. Twitter and Tumblr and Facebook are wall-to-wall with touching personal stories and admirable sentiments. Everyone’s talking about how 01) if you are unhappy and need help you should reach out 02) if you know anybody who is in pain or who you suspect to be in pain you should be there for them and 03) everything will get better no it really will it we promise you just have to be strong and believe in fairies and magic and flowers and twoo wuv.
I hate you all.
Nicole: I know what it is. She's pregnant.
Me: You reckon?
Nicole: It's always this time of day. It's morning sickness.
Me: She's not showing any signs - but it happens early on, right?
Nicole: Yes, and think back - about two, three months ago they kept having domestics.
Me: You're right - and then they shagged like monkeys. Over, and over again.
Nicole: They made up, they made love, they said, "let's make a baby".
Me: They absolutely did it hard enough to break like six frangers. The ceiling was shaking.
Nicole: What's a franger?
Me: A condom, darling.
Nicole: Oh! Of course. How's that for investigative ability.
Me: Let's open an agency.
In which I discuss the manifestation of my peculiar madnesses for the gratification of none but myself, because I’m a self indulgent emo twat and I don’t actually care if you think that.