That's using your legs.

The other day I walked around 20km to prove something. I'm sure everyone's done something like that at one point.

It was 6am the morning after a party. I woke up before everyone else, confused, wearing drag makeup and one of the host's shirts. For some reason I decided I'd go for a walk, but first checked that what I was wearing was appropraite attire for the outside world.

On the other lounge was a couple, that were somewhat awake and sucking face. After recieving a positive response to my query, I began to walk, after working out where I was and admiring the scenery for a while.

I walked to the end of the street and saw an enormous green road sign. It exclaimed that the next country town was only 10km away. I accepted the challenge.

My reasons, in order of importance, were:

1. I am hungry and/or thirsty
2. I want to prove that I have done interesting things in my life
3. I want something to write about for my next blog post

So off I went, with the cold air pushing me forward, or back, I can't remember. My first stop was what I thought was a bus stop and turned out to be a mailbox shelter. I didn't know people built shelters around their mailboxes, but then again I was in the middle of nowhere. I laid down for a while, and let my thoughts wander to the strangest of places. Memories popped up that had no relevance to anything - like the time someone nearly emptied half a cup of coffee onto my foot. I wasn't sure if that was a real event, part of a dream, or something I'd put in a story, but it was in there. For some reason.

I got up after a while and trekked on, stopping twice more to send a text from a public phone and ask if I was heading in the right direction. I was, apparently, heading in the right direction towards the SMALL LITTLE VILLAGE. The old man I asked used a tautology to made sure I knew I was headed towards a "Small, little village" for some reason. Probably because I didn't look like the type that would, or should, venture outside the walls of suburbia. I was perfectly aware of where I was headed, and soldiered on until I reached a service station that appeared to have it's share of conflicts.

I was offerred a job as I walked in, cautiously avoiding the mopped parts of the floor. "I don't live around here" was my attempt to shut down conversation with the strange man. I bought an apple cider and payed for it on my card. To my disbelief, I think I actually typed in my Pin right the first time round. I don't think this has happenned since, and I live in constant fear of what happens after three incorrect Pin entries.

I went on to buy vegetable chips and make my way home. It was much hotter this time around and I laid down on various occassions. An old man offered to give me a lift, but I declined, thinking it was a bad idea to hitchhike. I regretted that decision up until the time a kind lady pulled over to offer me a lift. I accepted this time. She drove very quickly back to where I was staying, and I stumbled back as if nothing had happenned.

"Le son du rire"

 © Brodie

The sound of laughter. The French call it Le son du rire, the Italians Il suono della risata, & the Polish Dźwięk śmiechu. Even the Poles can't help but appreciate it's worth, even if their way of describing it resembles a strange cross between a sneeze and a cough.

Earlier this week, my drama class and I were taken on a picnic by our teacher. We sat outside and ate sandwiches that none of us really knew the origins of, even after asking. Nonetheless it was a lovely time of talking, cautiously discarding suspicious sandwich contents, and above all laughter. There are few sounds more blissful than that of genuine, uninhibited laughter, especially when it comes from someone who cannot stop laughing once they've begun.

I envy people with loud, booming laughs. When they laugh, the world stops and joins them. When I laugh, people give me strange looks and ask if I'm right, which I find a little bit shameful. I'm probably one of the loudest people I know, but when I start to laugh, I go quiet, and begin to rock back and forth with my mouth open. My friends tell me this resembles a crow, hence the name my laugh now goes by, The Rocking Crow. I'm a little bothered that my laugh is better loved and appreciated, if not better known than I am, but I guess I should be happy. Not many people have that.

Bobs.

A few days back I was in one of those teenage depression spirals, where there seems to be no meaning to life and no purpose to it. That all vanished when I set foot in the town of Bellingen for the local Readers & Writers Festival. Writing is normally a lonely, depressing craft, but now I was in a town full of writers, many of them published authors.

Never had there been so many eyebags reaching such southerly extents in the one place. Masses of middle-aged women packed the local coffee shops, struggling to determine which of the four women with thin, black-rimmed glasses and a sophisticated bob was their companion. There was squinting, and sipping, and shouting, and bitching, and laughing, and learning, and countless late comers to every session.

So much coffee was consumed over the two days of the festival that on two separate occassions, people actually attempted to barge into my toilet cubicle before I even had the chance to display the engaged sign.

But it wasn't all coffee and perversion. There were, as one would hope, actually panels of people from the realm of writing, discussing everything from Telling Refugee's stories to the internet. I really pity the panel that had to encompass all there is to know about the great sea of information that is the internet in just an hour. But they managed, barely, and I discovered that there is hope for queer writers on the internet, something I've been worried about ever since I started this blog.

I also met up with Alex Neill, one of my inspirations, who worked with me at last years festival to polish a piece of short fiction. And then I added another person to my list of inspirational writers; Alice Pung. I haven't yet read her work, something I'm not proud of and probably shouldn't put on the internet, but I intend to.

Quickie

Boys: Well, I've now declared myself as a bisexual, so the title's a little redundant. I wouldn't say I'm lonely; just single and surrounded by couples. Seriously. There are three affectionate couples in my presence most of the time. In fact I recently had one of them over. They spent most of the time making out, I spent it playing Age of Empires.

Bitches: There's a noticeable lack of bitches at the moment. There are however a lot of women, and the love triangles are amazing. I'm of course part of one, but on the giving end, not the recieving. And of course I just managed to make unrequited love look like anal sex.

HSC: Well, I'm doing well at school. Most of my teachers are partly happy with me. The main problems are punctuality, being bothered, and losing the very Eastern Eurpoean accent I seem to have when speaking in French.

Jorge

The Summer "HOLIDAYS"

This morning I awoke and plugged my phone into it's charger. Soon after, I recieved a text from a friend. It was apparent that my ex had told her something, and she couldn't tell me. So, naturally, I ended up on the phone to my ex for too long.

Now, I have seven websites open. I've read two blog posts, sent one reply to an email, apologised for last nights laptop crash, and of course wished a friend a happy birthday. Oh and I'm looking up ideas for a friend's birthday party.

The holidays are theoretically supposed to be used for fun and relaxation. But, since their beginning in mid-November, I've done no such thing. Somehow, without having a penny to my name, and without a secured job, my time has managed to be completely filled. I've been on two trips  - one for work experience, the other because, well, Sydney - done an abundance of Christmas gift shopping, and entertained countless numbers of people.

Over the next 48 hours, I will be making up to two dishes, attending three Christmas parties, learning to clean professionally, and having my first paid shift. The two biggest questions I have are How am I going to afford my next trip to sydney? & Which gender should I sleep with at an upcoming sleepover?

For you, vampire

Fluffy things. It is quite probable that everyone, or at least every second person, likes fluffy, cuddly, warm things. When a person lacks the presence of their significant other, they resort to something cuddly for comfort. Like a stuffed toy. There are in this world though few people who do not own a supply of fluffy things. It is with greatest humilation that I am going to now admit that I am one of those people.

(I was given a small toy fox for my birthday from a friend who I've got a lot of time for.)

'Miserable weather' is commonly associated with depression & loneliness, and I think there may be facts supporting this somewhere, but I honestly can't say anything for sure (so don't count on that). For some reason warmth & snugness make almost everything feel good, even if someone significant is missing. Just think about the following: Does the thought of a nice, warm bed with several soft, cuddly things on it make you feel better, regardless of how you're feeling? Does the thought of sleeping on hard concrete, out in the rain, exposed to wind, make you feel worse? Those questions were worded in such a way that my hypotheses should seem right, so I'm guessing you agree with me now. I find you rather foolish, as the words "nice" and "cuddly" are basically meaningless! But I would have fallen for similar scams.

It's night, so I apologise if the paragraphs are jerky and concepts are randomly chucked in there.

Nobody can finish on a Wednesday

Wednesday is traditionally "hump day", meaning the middle of the week. Things don't tend to start or finish on Wednesdays. Occasionally people are born, or they die on Wednesdays. They are the most comfortable days in the working week, having neither the need to "get back into the swing of it" that Monday is infamous for, or the anxiousness to leave and the complete hatred for the workplace that Friday is known for. Today is Wednesday.

I've been completing work experience at the Northern Rivers Writers Centre since Monday, and today is my last "physical" day here. For the remainder of the working week I'll be completing tasks from home, a coffee shop, or a library. It's doubtful that I'll go to the library to complete work, however, as food isn't allowed. The library also frowns upon loud noises, which, having spent the last few days at an office, I've come to realise slip from the mouth whenever a task is completed, or work hindered by technology and/or stupidity. The office ladies also seem to enjoy making animal noises, and comparing Tamari Almonds to relationships.

It is in my best interests to mention how much of wonderful time I've had, and also the hospitality and good looks of Siboney and Sarah, as well as Pip.