Hello! I gave myself food poisoning yesterday, it was painful until I took a Panadol cold and flu, non-drowsy. Oh that reminds me of the sore throat I brought back from mainland China. It was the nastiest sore throat anyone could ever imagine and I was swallowing painkillers like lollies. As I passed out on the bed, in a calm and empty stupor, fancying this is how Curt Cobain must have felt before he died*, in the hotel in Taipei, I told Lily, if you find me unconscious, tell the doctors that in the past three hours I've had four cold and flus and five of those French paracetomols you brought.

Anyway I secretly felt glad to have an excuse to lie in bed like a slob reading my books all day. Lately I have been feeling that I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life reading, on a beach somewhere, slobbing it off to my heart's desire. I bought The Alchemist yesterday. Its supposed to change your life and I have been waiting for another life-changing book since 1984. Not since 1984, since I read 1984 in 2000. Mum told me not go to class this morning, but this spurred the all-seeing all-knowing dorm lady to come to my room and say "So you think you don't need to go to class do you?" I think she's supposed to be the psuedo-mother for all the 22 year old girls who live in the dorms and haven't learnt to cope with living away from home.

Its serious though - all I want to do is play the piano and read, and watch movies. Am I turning into a slob, or pursuing my interests? Will it be acceptable to spend the rest of my life on that beach from The Beach reading life-changing novels and meeting handsome men?

Things I have suddenly decided I want to do:
Ride a pastel pink scooter down Brisbane Water Drive to KFC Woy Woy
Go to Thailand and read on the beach with intermittent dips in the water for six months
Hire a camel in Tangiers and ride it to the pyramids.



*before Courtney Love's hitman shoved a gun in his hand and blew his head off  ¶ 15:14