Ewww, I feel disgusting, all slimy from the overuse of 'freedom' (25 times) and 'liberty' (17 times). And that was only the ten minute Radio National summary. The only saving grace was the champion who screamed 'boo' or some such collection of vowels in a clear carrying voice throughout Bush's inauguration speech. Onya.
Enough. Sometimes you just have to look out of the window at the gorgeous silvereyes flitting through the banksia tree and think of nicer things, like 'I wonder what crazybrave has mounted last night (besides O)?'.
I am feeling a bit despondent about my fertility prospects as my inner regions continue to hurt, and am encouraged by sites like uncommon misconception and a little bit pregnant which are wonderful sites of witty women who have been through many many trials, far worse than anything I've come up with and have come out the other end (only recently) with a little wriggler. It seems like a lucky omen that I only discovered them on the upswing (their archives are heartbreaking). I am sure that I too will prevail, but right now I'm in the Big Black Void where all is just blood and tears.
So I have a good six months at least where I have to not think any of this women's stuff, and I can get into making a few books and pints -- woops, prints (although I can see a few drinks on the agenda too, once I get off these dratted antibiotics). I'm going to Mackay in February for the Second Australian Artist Book Forum, so hopefully I'll return all fired up and feisty, ready to churn out poetry with lead. I think the first step is getting hold of the nipping press offered to me by Lawrence of Gallery 451, which makes my mouth water to think of (it will help me bind my own books and postcards by pressing everything nice and FLAT). Is it sick to be so turned on by metal objects?