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I haven't noded in over a year.


It came in here to plunder my Pixelships and Wild Guns writeups for a final Professional Writing portfolio. They are written in a clear, coherant style; my music reviews do not display the same qualities. They have too many semicolons. My lecturer dislikes semicolons. I will return the favor by noding my finished feature article, written when I escape 1:30am 'this is due tommorow and i haven't started it' paralysis. It is on the Sydney indie music scene and, perhaps, the bands that centre around no-wave trio Kiosk. I node by way of organizing my thoughts.

I have reread all my past writeups; themes recur. I still have the job, but now it has switched to overnights twice a week. I have been doing this for over a year. Most of the old crushes have been forgotten. The girl mentioned in my last node was courted and asked out; the offer was declined without tears. She provided me an entry into the Sydney scene: Kiosk, Red Riders, Spod and Pink Grease at Space. A fun show. It set the pattern for subsequant weeks: random bands. Random girls. Random friends. No 'luck' of a certain sort, but enough stories to keep me entertained.

Getting trapped in a lift with 15 people, yelling and screaming. I wrote a play about it; I am writing about it now. I pounded on the walls and went for a rooftop swim. Later, on Angie's couch, I fall asleep with a copy of Cory Doctrow's Down and Out In The Magic Kingdom under the watchful gaze of my poet-god-king.

Patterns repeat. The wistful longing I often spoke of as the dominant mode of E2 has diminished or transfered to more distant objects: a girl from Melbourne; the lead singer and drummer of The Grates, met three times at shows; a model friend who I know will cause me to stand in front of a billboard in the rain. I do not say 'weeping', because my sense of melodrama has diminished.

Connections and recursions. She has red hair like Mary Jane. I write parataxical poetry for a tutor who taunts me about a girl I liked last year. I live on coffee, my circadian rhythms wrong. I am a MySpace addict and write in borrowed Beat syntax.

This is a plea for attention. I say hello to you all again; i enjoyed this place. It has produced much good writing and may save my grade. I thank you, and perhaps this summer I will be back. I have so much to node.

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