skull stuff


By God, this internet thing is something else. Just when I’m yawning in the face of Facebook and thinking it has nothing new to offer me, a whole new world opens up to me out of nowhere (but not on Facebook, usually, might I add) and I’m beguiled all over again, woozy as the first time it happened… but now without the accompanying screech of dial-up. The great cyber trapdoor swings open and a pixelly pool of glitter forms before mine eyes, all oasis-like and sugary.

All last week I was obsessed with all things astronautical. But I woke up yesterday morning and it had passed, leaving a small well inside me ready for my next bout of short-lived rapturising, which is usually not very far off.

I’m listening to the new Brian Eno album, Small Craft on a Milk Sea, in my new office. Both are extremely good.

Jillyfran called tonight to tell me a funny internet story. The internet is downright CRAZY!

I have been reading Kristin Hersh’s new memoir, Rat Girl. It’s fucken excellent. I just want to be her friend. That probably sounds weird, but I’ll put it out there anyway.

Sylvie’s back to stockpiling leaves, Doozer style, like never before, each leaf warranting its own squeaky fanfare. It’s how I know she’s happy. Her happiness, of course, being directly proportional to the number of leaves I wake up to find strategically placed in the bedroom doorway in the morning. She is also having a love affair with carpet. Until a month ago she’d never seen carpet before in her life.

Today I created a new email rule (I couldn’t automate it, though, so it will need to be manually applied): any email containing a word that wrongly ends in z — or should I say endz in z — will be deleted, irrespective of what else it might contain. I can’t imagine anything worth sticking around for in that kind of email, anyway. I stopped going into shops bearing wrongful Zs in their name a long time ago. Come to think of it, to be honest, I don’t think I have actually ever set foot in one in my life (just scoffed at the signage from afar, probably — what an uptight and boring little pedant I am). 

And now for the skull stuff and my latest internet fixation. Now that I have got Google Reader properly working for me again, and now that I’m not giving every spare minute of my day to hideous brain wrenching, I am free to stumble and marvel at leisure (well, not quite at leisure… that might imply that I didn’t have to earn my keep in ways that don’t — always — involve surfing the net).

In quieter times I keep an eye on The Rumpus and there, yesterday, I discovered A Journey Around My Skull. And, in particular, Psychic Explosion and the works of Adolf Hoffmeister. Fucken hell. And man that site has got a LOT of brilliant stuff on it. I’m dedicating at least part of my three-day weekend to giving it my undivided attention (as well as practising my conference talk, but we don’t talk about that). As well as getting ideas for new bookshelves on the book porn site.

That reminds me, soon — when I have even more time on my hands — I am going to update my things I like section and include all this stuff. Like Bookshelf Porn and A Journey Around My Skull.

The other day Frankie resumed. It’s on. She has a slightly different sense of humour this time around. It took me by surprise.


4 Responses to “skull stuff”

  1. 1 Jenny

    So that does mean you would also refuse to stay in “Shadz” and “Illusionz” if you were in Palmerston North?

  2. 2 katy77


  3. 3 becky

    Go Frankie! Frankie Rulz!

  4. Excellent post – I love “bookshelf porn” too (and loads of other tumblogs)

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