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Tuesday, January 8, 2008

* 18 March 1981 thurs 2.00am

My new home, hopefully, will be unearthed on Friday. It will have a garden which I shall tend fervently.

My study will have a spacious wooden desk. I will buy clipboards, perhaps even some form of filing system. And there will be a lock on the door.

I will be exceedingly frugal with money. You watch.

I plan to buy many magazines with which I shall keep a watchful eye on the outside world. On days when I feel uninspired I shall cook in my kitchen.

I have started my ‘contact lens’ scheme. I have started my ‘retrieval of money from TEAS’ scheme. Perhaps soon I will sell my stamp album.

I will take singing lessons. I should give up smoking too, but I won’t.

As I rescue more and more of my mind from slumberland, I find that it’s badly, dangerously unhoned – I must train it for this imminent renaissance.

We achieved a modicum of success on Saturday night, and practised on Sunday. That night, I retired early, but Pierre brought a girl, Cathy Hopkins, to my flat in order to pork her. His conversation with her and the treatment she received were dreadful, but strangely entertaining. He abused her verily, and she soaked it in like a hardened and spiteful sponge. ‘Call me names, if you like. I don’t care…’

We organised a new song on Sunday. It has a rousing chorus for which I can find no lyric …

I’ve been with my mother a lot. I can endure her company because she is neutral, unattached. I’ve been wandering a lot too. Dreaming. Reading Gus’s Marvel Comics. Loving Christine …

*

I used to think my stamp album, was worth something …

Pierre. The word that comes to mind is rake. He was like a wild dog on heat. I remember when I first saw him. It was at a party in a mansion near Kooyong station. The Boys Next Door were playing. He was fully intoxicated, dancing directly in front of the band like the wigged out punk he was. There was something inspiring about a person who could maintain that level of inebriation …

I guess that was part of my problem. The more out of it a person, the higher I rated them. Madness.

I’m a lot different now.

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