Thursday, October 7, 2010

A Procrastination Poem

Tonight's thesis helpers
are oreos, m'n'ms and coke.
Trying to trick my brain into a hyperactive state
kick it into gear
to produce some work, any work
to bump my wordcount up.
The biscuit is stuck in my teeth
I have a sugar headache
and the coke is warm and flat.
It's still early, not midnight yet,
Tonight is not the night to succumb to sleep.
I already napped earlier, by accident
watching Doctor Who Proms and resting my head on a lion.
Woke up to dinner and drool on my bed.
Must. not. Procrastinate.
Yet I'll still write this poem,
and post it online,
probably the first of many tonight.
But I must go write this thesis
still four thousand words to go
and stop writing silly poems
that no one is going to read.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Things I'm never going to be:

Things I'm never going to be:
A politician
Good at running
A professional artist/musician/designer/actor
A stand up comedian
A scientist, mathematician or engineer
Fluent in Russian, Mandarin, Italian, or any African language
Anorexic


Things I might one day be:
A teacher
A novelist
An academic
A doctor (of philosophy)
Reasonable at Kendo
Partially fluent in Japanese, French and/or German
Able to fit into that dress that I want.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

How to Enjoy WorldCon Eliza-Style

Day One:
Wait at airport. Flight delayed because of 'minor fault.' See passenger and two groundstaff do the robot on the tarmac. Fly. Get to Mellbourne, walk to hostel. Check in.
Walk to Federation Square. It rains, get wet. Dinner at 'Time Out.' Disappointing steak sandwich. Lovely catch-up conversation with old friend Robby. He pays. Walk back to hostel, watch movie, sleep.

Day Two:
Wake up too early, leave the hostel before eight. Go for a walk around the city, thankfully no rain today. Have a coffee at 'Soul Cafe,' listen to the Cat Empire. Stop at QV for a spring onion bun at BreadTop. Wait for shops to open. Walk back through the city, wait outside RetroStar. Walk to City Library Cafe, drink expensive orange juice.
Back to RetroStar, try to fit boobs into dress, fail. Walk back to QV, buy tshirt from AOI. Walk to Federation Square. Tim Burton Exhibition at ACMI. Mind Blown. Stand within a metre of Edward Scissorhands' suit.
Walk to WorldCon. Get tag, sit in opening ceremony. Make friends with a girl with wings on her boots. WorldCon opens. Ned Kelly shot by Bobba Fett. Fez count: one.
Academic panel: mildly interesting.
Academic panel: Gaiman fangirl.
Steampunk panel: ask a question.
Vendors disappointing.
Walk to hostel, eat microwave pasta, drink tea.
Walk back to Con, watch film 'Earthling.' Film is stupid. Too many bloody alien slugs. Talk to SF author Jay Caselberg on the way back to hostel. Sleep.

Day Three:
Muffin breakfast.
Academic panel: SF is punk.
Academic panel: Bourdieu.
Panel: describing the indescribable.
Academic panel: why one woman likes talking about her own work.
Reading: China Mieville. He looks too kick-arse to be a SF writer.
Get Perdido Street Station signed by China Mieville, Sprawl signed by L.L. Hannett.
Boring pie and coffee for lunch. Begin feeling lonely. Get phone call from boyfriend Tom, feel much better.
Artist guest of honour speech: Shaun Tan shows drawings from primary school.
Steampunk panel: speaker misunderstands question.
Steampunk panel: beardie talks intelligently about cyberpunk and steampunk. Get his email.
Rush to hostel to shower, forget to eat, walk briskly to comedy show. Drink vodka, laugh at show. Almost win funniest audience joke.
Get back to hostel, eat microwave noodles, sleep.

Day Four:
Have trouble waking up. Walk to Con.
Steampunk panel: author blabs about own work.
Meet John Berlyne, agent for Tim Powers and James Blaylock. Talk with him for some time, get his email.
Buy prawn soba salad.
Panel: the future is overtaking us.
Eat soba salad, drink terrible coffee. Fez count: two.
Academic panel: teaching SF with podcasts.
Guest of honour speech: Kim Stanley Robinson interviews himself.
Cyberpunk panel: mirrorshades are cool.
Can't find the right panel. Feel lost, feel lonely. Get call from Tom, feel better.
Panel: recent books that might one day be classics.
Walk to Chinatown. Order bento box at Japanese restaurant. Eat sashimi for the first time. Walk back to Con, pass China Mieville on the street, be slightly intimidated by his physical presence.
Go to disappointing Masquerade.
Go to London 2014 party. Drink free vodka. Get flirted at by lovely Irish man. Make friends with Paisley Mike.
Walk to hostel, sleep.

Day Five:
Reasonable coffee for breakfast.
Panel: westerns and SF. John Clute and Peter Nicholls. Paul Cornell has a Fruits Basket bag.
Buy Shaun Tan's Tales from Outer Suburbia, William Gibson's Zero History.
Get Tales from Outer Suburba and The Lost Thing signed by Shaun Tan.
Miss the first half of a Doctor Who panel.
Panel: not interesting, leave half way through.
Academic panel: how to ruin Doctor Who by studying it.
Panel: Shakespeare's fantasy plays. Wonderful not-so-SF-related panel.
Panel: Doctor Who's fifth series.
Don't win the Penguin raffle.
Panel: Cyberpunk, which turns into 'how can we effectively teach our kids emotional connections with all this new technology?'
Panel: Writing Doctor Who. Paul Cornell and Robert Shearman being very funny and British.
Terrible dinner at Crown Casino. Start to feel lonely. Get message that implies possible meeting with Cornell and Shearman. Meet Robby and his friend Scott, feel relieved to see a familiar face. Get hugs. Watch Hugo awards, laugh at Robby and Scott being children.
Go with Scott to Hilton Hotel, drink, talk, meet new people. Get properly introduced to Rob Shearman, get much advice on being a writer, get his email, promise to keep in touch. Do a happy dance in the bathroom.
Walk back to hostel, sleep.

Day Six:
Half a cup of tea for breakfast.
Academic panel: nerds are cool.
Academic panel: Doctor who is fairy tale.
Drink coffee.
Miss panel that is on an hour before the program says it is.
Cyberpunk panel: the Matrix is Ghost in the Shell
Taboo panel: not enough fights.
Panel: how much pop culture the audience can spot in Star Trek.
Wander. Eat prawn soba. Watch closing ceremony.WorldCon is over.
Walk back to hostel, pack suitcase, drink tea.
Catch wrong tram. Catch right tram. Tram has no lights, except flashing door light, rain outside, feels like BladeRunner. Get to St Kilda, watch Scott's drama kids suffer from eating extra extra hot sauce at Nandos.
Walk to rehearsal, watch Robby's A Study in Scarlet.' Go to drinks with Scott. Drink wine, talk about theatre.
Back to hostel, stumble to bed, sleep.

Day Seven:
Wake up hungover. Check out. Eat bacon and egg roll. Walk to train station, catch bus.
Wait at airport. Fly.
Get home. Comfy jumper time.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Rain and Cherry Blossoms

I went for a walk
in the cherry blossoms and rain.
My jeans are soaked through,
my toes are stained red from my shoes.
I could hear the pat-pat-pat
of the heavy raindrops
falling on my jacket hood.
I'd stop at a street light,
the rain would stop too.
As soon as I started walking again,
the rain would start falling again,
as if there were some connection
between how fast I was walking
and how fast the rain was falling.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

This is How to Write a Thesis

Get a cold coffee from the bearded lady
Turn off the internet
Chain yourself to the computer
Haunt the library's halls.

This is how to write a thesis
Confine yourself to a well-lit hole
Sit there, drinking luke-warm coffee
For days on end
Until the damn thing writes itself.

Monday, August 2, 2010

A Poem About the Cute Tea Bar Boy

Nose curls upwards
sideburns
dark hair and manicured eyebrows
white business shirt
and apron tied about his waist
big sad deep-set eyes

And I've got my tits out for him
try to catch his eye when he walks past,
chewing my lip and sitting up straight

I like his waist - the apron accentuates the sliim line of his torso
something about the sweet aroma of tea
and he brings me tasty things to eat

There should be more topless waiters in this world
I'd buy so many more drinks
as long as they weren't hairy
nor shiny and oiled.
just naturally smooth
or slight downy fur
slightly muscled but not popping
and not too skinny either
but no extra fat
no skin rolls or moobs.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Welcome to Poetry in Space

Most of my poems don't rhyme
Some of them do, a bit.
It seems most of my poems
Turn out quite shit.