The Tutts

are playing at Arc tonight, along with Motorcade. I am conspiciously, or unconspiciously absent. Who would I see out - the same people, or maybe new people being feted by the new crowds there. Presumably everyone has this sense of dissociation; some might call it teen angst. How pathetic to have never gotten past the Megadeth t-shirt clutching "Its just me and my cheesy poof & no-one understands my tortured soul" phase. Clearly I need to move onto some more positive music, like the exuberance and joie de vivre of Def Leppard at their most overproduced.

Anyway I have been doing schoolwork. I also went out for dinner, a bewdiful celebration of my time in Lending Services. I will miss the people I have been working with, and eventually the I will miss the interaction with the public I guess. Just like I almost miss the weirdos that came into the video store. Good stories you see. I will probably have to get creative now, make stuff up. Steal other people's party pieces. Don't be suprised if you hear me spieling your favourite narrative - with a couple of names shifted & maybe a location transposition to Oamaru.

Or perhaps on the other side, in the palm groves, I will be inspired by the bedouin tribes and pull an E.M.Hull. The dizzying heights of the 5th floor may give me scandal such as I have never dreamed of, that has not already been thoroughly raked over by the resident staff mongers. If management had any concern for staff morale they would employ single men to keep the workers happy in their speculation, or their dalliance. None of us are really like librarians, of course, not all staid & some are really really hip, y'know? Fun fun fun all the time! Just like everyone I know who is in a fairly sedate job. I guess no-one wants to admit to the world that they are actually pretty boring, and no-one has to while there are conversations about men to be had. MMmmm MMMmmmmm can't wait to get me some of that sweet essentialist dialogue, generalisations here I come. The only thing more vomit inducing are the people who experience something and become the voice of authority on that subject immediately. Usually on the matter of drug use, vice, and the workings of the male mind & then we are all subjected to stories ad nauseum casting the teller in the light of expert and link to the underworld/ reincarnation of Kinsey. By implication the rest of us are novices, acolytes at the knee of brilliance. I hate being told things I already know.

But then I get to wondering - do men have these silly conversations too? I suddenly understand the impulse that brought us the crossdressing school comedies in the 80, where (insert gender ambiguous name here) would accently be enrolled as a boy/girl, become best friends with person of opposite gender who is unware of the switcheroo, and eventually reveal their true identity in a stenchdraft of hormones. So so very bad, but would't you just love to be a fly on the wall. I'd rather be a freemason though.

Hell, I'm having a tantrum. I hate everything. I even hate being complimented, it makes me suspicious. What a nasty piece of work I must be.