though in fact he has none of that world-weariness)
ate a packet of Kalgon tablets, or at least shredded them finely, scenting the house with a sort of tangy citrus urinal scent. Something lives longer with Kalgon.. Something starting with a W... Perhaps he was just testing. I found myself thinking of that Gary Larson cartoon where the scientists are testing various substances on a duck's back. Anyone? No? Well it's a group of scientists testing what substance runs off a duck's back (acid/milk/juice). Ok, shut up Emma.
My head is entirely empty at the moment, a whistling, empty mass of nothing. It's not specially unpleasant, but it's not conducive to blogging. Usually something to write presents itself in my head at some point during the day. Often on the tram. I wonder if it's because I've taken to listening to music on the tram? Maybe I need the ambient weirdness of the 92 tram to seep into my brain rather than listening to jangly guitars at a million decibels? I'm listening to the new Vampire Weekend album on a constant loop, alternating with M.I.A and The Jam and various Songs Of My Youth Mainly On Rough Trade. I've never done the ipod thing before (I'm not just a late adopter, I'm positively nineteenth century), so I am behaving like a caveperson, marvelling open-mouthed at fire. I think I might have to discipline myself to tune into the burbling lunatics of South Brussels again, since they are obviously my inspiration.
In the absence of more edifying things, I can tell you the following gurly rubbish, chiz chiz chiz:
1. I love my Nars Aigle Noir pencil. It's a big fat silvery grey soft eye pencil and it's called BLACK EAGLE. It's fierce. Ok, it's not actually proper fierce. It's make up, but I like it.
2. I have had to reconsider my position on Elle Macpherson. Well, her underwear, I still can't imagine she'd be up for Spread Eagle on Fossgate on Friday lunchtime for 23 G and Ts and a plate of chips. But! She does quite a good size range now, and I quite like my new bra, from Liberty sale. I wore it for the first time yesterday and it's buxom, but not matronly. Whereas today's Mimi Holliday, whilst very cute, is so uncomfortable I was fantasising about discreetly taking it off through my sleeve by around 3pm and maybe burning it discreetly in the wastepaper basket, doused in photocopier toner. Oh, you see, THIS is one of the reasons I am so stilted at the moment. My finger is hovering over delete. It's not just the lack of tram banter. I know so many people who are reading this now. People I actually see in real life. (Hi, Dad). It's terribly inhibiting. But equally, one of the things I liked about this blog was saying the things I didn't say out loud. I mean, come on. I used to write things like this! And this! And it was more fun, I think. I want to get back to not giving a shit what I write about but that seems oddly hard. Eh. Answers on a postcard.
3. Doctor Kevorkian Jr has given me these ridiculous shots of drinkable collagen for my knee. I was initially very excited about them, and kept expecting to wake up look dewy and pre-pubescent. No. I am still dried out, like an old, shedded snake skin. My knee still hates me. Fuck. I have got some new Lancôme serum recommended by lovely-Sali-who-knows-all-about-girl-stuff. I fully expect to wake up looking like a freshly hatched baby capybara tomorrow. No, maybe not quite so hairy and disapproving. Something smoother. An egg, perhaps?
4. I am reading this, this, this and this. I can't settle to any of them, even though I can tell that at any less brain-fevered time, I would have devoured each of them in half a day. I think I have moths in the brain. Maybe I should try eating Kalgon tablets?
I don't even know how to finish a post anymore. Maybe I just stop?
Ps: needless to say, no fucker has paid me to plug their products here, or even given me the teeniest free sample. I NEVER. EVER. get free stuff. Sob.