2003-03-03

Fruity. Somtimes you have to let all the crap out so that good things can come back to you...

I played my best game of impro in ten years last night, and I had a fan club (yes, my very own fan club! people who came to see ME!) chanting my name. What a powerful drug recognition is. I went from being a very sick and sorry for self girl to being a powerhouse of creative energy, ready to dazzle with insightful moments of witty repartee. Hmm, well at the very least I played a DAMN good game of impro.

No good news on the moving out front - it is worse than frickin New York trying to get somewhere liveable and affordable in Melbourne at the moment. And A was being particualrly sweet and attentive last night: perhaps he senses that the game is up. Still doesn't make me sexually attracted to him anymore. With that being said I have an on again off again paramour arriving from Sydney this week, so perhaps I can sate my carnal desire with him instead, and sublimate my need for a meaningful relationship by substituting hot sex for conversation.

Not that i am actually feeling too sexy, what with the state of flux that the bod is in at the moment. I keep having Adrian Mole-like thoughts that I have Chronic fatigue, or early menopause, or Legionnaires disease... anything except for the truth of just a weakened immune system and occasional low level depressiveness. And I don't really need anymore big diseases - the boob cancer thing and a dose of pneumonia last year should have left me satisfied. Even those incidents were spectacularly bad at getting my family to notice me - not so much as a card, let alone my mother rushing to my bedside. There is no tea and sympathy from my folks, just guilt and apathy.

But now that I have a fan club all is better, and even though I may be crap, there are people out there who appreciate my particular brand of crap. Crickey, is this what is known as self-esteem?

bitch - moan