I'll smother them all.

Thu, 16 Nov 2006 14:03:05 GMT

And so once more the same old overwhelming enthusiasm for life, in its multitude of forms has seized me. No doubt it relates to the slight, but significant drunkeness, the drippingly romantic and loving feelings towards daniel and steady flow of creative and insightful feelings stimulated by a woody allen film, but none the less I feel compelled to, well, muse. I think upon further reflection that this urge is most intimately linked to the apparent drunkeness. Oh the joys of being a cheap drunk, low alcohol tolerence is something that I have cultivated for the better part of a year so that on the rare occasions on which I do drink the feeling of drunkness is sublime and well profound as it is now. Daniel I have sent off to enjoy the hot bath that I abandoned after a mere 10 minutes, rather than my usual hours, even with the company of the lovely John Irving I could not be enticed to soak for longer tonight, as I felt a terrible need to tie up loose ends. Poor Daniel. I would ordinarly be described as an excessively affectionate person, who demands frequent cuddles, near constant handholding and many a kiss on the cheek (better still the neck) to confirm, affirm perhaps is more fitting our affection for one other. However, a few drinks when I'm in a mood such as tonight definitely excerbates my usual tendancy for overaffection. As tonight I have indulged in quiet self-reflection on the times when there was kissing for kissing's sake, leading quite frankly to far too many an attempt for me to molest, grap, hold, maul, and fondle daniel at every glimmer of a possibility to do so. So I have been branded decidedly needy, a label I am fully aware of being entirely deserving of but nonetheless recoil at the sound of. Although when i shared my ruminations about kissing for kissing's sake Daniel was rathe ammenable and pledged to remember my views on the subject and explore them, I still recall with some sort of wonder the three and a half hours Daniel and I spent kissing before having sex that first time as though the kissing was the act itself rather than the sex. Not to deny the exquisiteness of the sex itself. I just think the languid appeal of kissing is wholly underated, at least by far too many men. which may in many ways explain my attraction to liasons with women, fleeting as it was. My prose is so dizzingly pretentious I could vomit. Dan's told me so many times how I write these sort of things in a high voice, as is the tendancy among indulgent souls such as myself, nonetheless who can resist the appeal of writing in such a way? Well many obivously. What I mean is I can't resist, for me it's like slipping into a robe of french lace.

HELP

Wed, 07 Jun 2006 07:05:15 GMT

HELP

One of my best friends Kathy works in the legal department of Catholic Care which provides assistance to a lot of migrants, refugees etc. Today she told me about one of her clients, who has come out to Australia on a humanitarian visa from Somalia. The details of her story are terrible. Her mother and older sister were not granted visas, (and Kathy is trying to remedy this), however whilst she is a very bright girl and has completed an IT course at TAFE she can't afford to study further as she is very keen to send money back to her mother and family. She speaks exceptionally good english (as good as you and I), has a lovely nature and is well presented, and has good IT skills. She'd be very well suited to office/admin. work or retail and is even keen for work experience or work on a trial basis. So if you know of any opportunities or people who might be interested, please contact me.

emptying cupboards without me

Fri, 19 May 2006 13:26:40 GMT

I'm listening to Bob. I was just about to gush about all my lovely Bob Dylan memories, when I remembered that the Hawaiian we encouraged Danielle to drag home the other night was called 'Bob'. It was a delightful and funny night/morning after.
Here are some things that it featured:
- An extremely embarrassed virgin
- A sudden realization that my bra was somewhere on the floor at home, rather than on me
- Half a bottle of gin
- An overly dramatic and disproportionately joyous realisation that Danielle and I have the same favourite pizza
- An exceptionally stupid music round at quiz night (we still came third)
- Inane things being written on the back of the mangled famous faces sheet
- Numerous toilet conferences
- Two exquisite shags (not in any way connected to the previous item)
- A cyclist in the middle of mounts bay road at 12.30am
- A BOWL full of strawberry sorbet swimming in gin, for Daniel, Danielle, Bob and I before lights out. Alcohol is a wonderful social lubricant.
- Sleeping with all my jewelry on in case Bob was a crazed thief. I did consider that he could be a serial killer but drunkenly rationalised that a serial killer wouldn’t want two witnesses.
- A fry up of mushrooms, tomatoes, sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs and toast, to a soundtrack of ‘Do you really like cooking?’ and ‘You’re such a good host’ (he he yes, I am Bob, I proffered you a couch to sleep with my friend on)
- A broken hot water system.
- A wet grumpy beast who wouldn’t let me shower with him (relates to above)

Bob (Dylan) is singing ‘Hallejuah’ now. I have to say it is truly awful. I think I need to listen to the Jeff Buckley version just to calm myself. Calmer now, and rather distracted by elaborate daydreams which involve exhuming Jeff Buckley and doing all manner of things with him (maybe I should say reviving instead?). But, back to Bob Dylan. A lot of the time that I listen to him I am overwhelmed with sickeningly loving feelings towards Daniel, and thoughts of how achingly good things are between he and I are, this happened today on the ride back from Fremantle and the woman in the next car looked at me like I was deranged. Of course at other times irrational feelings of hope for the world in general are roused by Bob, especially when I listen to the times they are a-changin’ (I fondly remember watching the Waifs sing after the tsunami). Predictably these feelings of hope usually give way to overwhelming and perfectly rational despair and depression about the world in general. It’s strange, the way dizzy happiness and hope is so often followed by a rush of sadness and despair. Actually, it’s not strange at all, it seems rather natural, and fitting really (and I don’t mean that to be a gloomy end to things - I find the cyclical nature of life and emotions rather comforting and assuring).

‘It looks like it’s a dying but it’s hardly been born…’ Song to Woody, Bob Dylan.

Thu, 04 May 2006 12:18:29 GMT

I really must have suffered a remarkable change in mind set this year, at least in regard to university. I have an assignment due in five days, and I feel rather anxious and guilty because all I have done to date is plan it all out and roughly write a third of it. Previously, I only began to think about an assignment the day before it was due, or frequently even on the very day that it was due. Uni has been going surprisingly well, and I've been exceptionally studious (at least by my standards) by coming into uni early in the morning hours before I have classes to tap away at the computers in the library, and then attending all of my classes. Although, I have to admit I decided in a haze of sleepiness when the alarm went off this morning, I decided that I would stay in bed and sleep late and snuggle with the beast, rather than go to my crim lecture, which I actually geniunely enjoy normally. This decision whilst rather naughty, yielded a lovely, lazy morning with Daniel which featured copious amounts of snuggling, and languid morning conversation in bed, generously reading Dan's play with him only to have my acting abilities criticised, a scrabble match in which I thrashed him and another which was aborted after I mucked up the scoring, and finally having my lunch lovingly made for me and then having a naked song and dance performance to the cure to entertain me whilst I devoured the said lunch. As aforesaid whilst I do like crim, I can't conceive of any crim lecture that would be anywhere near as blissfully enjoyable as my morning.

---

I have to admit, despite my many previous assertions to the contrary, I have fully embraced the onset of wintery, cold feet weather. Here just a few, compelling reasons in favor of winter:

1. I can assert some control over the temperature in my car, as my heater works, superbly. In summer however, I am at the mercy of the heat, and the best I can do to regulate the temperature in my car is to wind all of my windows down which is quite an arduous task on hot days and is also barely effective
2. One feels like they have a completely justifiable reason to stay in bed, swathed in doonas and intertangled with a warm body, as if one were to go outside the deathly cold could make one sick. Furthermore, knowing how cold it is outside and the thought of the miserable sods who have no lovely warm creature to snuggle with and have act as their personal heater makes the activity all the more enjoyable and delicious.
3. Flannel pyjamas. The most comforting garment anyone could ever wear. My particular pair this year are blue and white striped with a fetching floral trim. Whilst they are probably the most unbecoming of sleepwear garments, this is wholly excused by their functionality. Furthermore, the shocking cold, makes it perfectly acceptable to put them on whilst it is still afternoon and pad around the house in them, in extreme cold it is also rather pleasant to accessorise with a doona wrapped around ones shoulders.

4. The delight of hot drinks – tea, coffee and best of all hot chocolate capped a froth of melted marshmallows. So much more satisfying when it’s cold, also when served in a mug they are an effective means of warming ones hands.

---

Well, excuse my digressions on the benefits of winter, I think I did sit down to write with some intention of writing something in specific, but now what that was exactly escapes me, I doubt it was anything of any real consequence.

list found in the back of an old notebook

Mon, 23 Jan 2006 14:59:07 GMT

One afternoon (it was as a rainy afternoon as one would expect) a friend of mine and I, inspired by the tales of bad men that we had shared over hot chocolate decided to each make a list of some qualities of our ideal partners so as to remind us of what we actually wanted, rather than what we were prepared to settle for.

1. Must be intelligent
2. Must be compassionate and have good politics
3. Must not need me
4. Must be happy and secure within himself
5. Must have a good relationship with his family, and accept mine
6. Must not be clingy
7. Must be generous
8. Must be charming, and not obnoxious and odious
9. Must be able to be diplomatic
10. Must be principled
11. Must be ambitious
12. Must not rely on me for transport
13. Must be independant
14. Must not make me feel embarassed in public
15. Must have a good sense of humour and be able to tease and be teased
16. Must be able to have wonderful conversations
17. Must be playful but know when it is appropriate to be serious
18. Must have lots of friends and interests
19. Must be attractive
20. Must not be scathing of my cultural background and its idiosyncracies
21. Must be experienced in bed, and not selfish
22. Must have a streak of craziness and spontaneity, but not be wholly consumed by it

seven oh two pause

Mon, 09 Jan 2006 11:08:28 GMT

Having just read Daniel's most recent journal entry I was inspired to also write an instructional type of entry where by one declares themself the foremost expert on a particular subject and then proceeds to wax lyrical about the said subject in a highly pompous manner. Alas, I have no time for this now, as I have rather more pressing demands to attend to, firstly calling my Nanna to tell her I can't come and see her tonight because I have a sore throat which I am terrified of giving to her, and secondly, I have an intense desire to shed my grubby work clothes and plunge myself into a steaming hot bath with my woody allen book and there I shall remain until the water becomes lukewarm and my fingers and toes are waterlogged and wrinkled.

symptoms

Thu, 05 Jan 2006 14:26:49 GMT

My day has was rather neatly sliced up into four portions.

The first portion involved easing myself into the day firstly with a sleeping beast that I could admire at my leisure as shafts of light began to flood the beast’s (now flyless) lair, and later with a deliciously awake beast, whose morning vigour warranted the air conditioner being turned on afterward.

The second portion began when the beast’s car drove away from my abode and I had to properly arrange and order myself for five hours of Myer. The five hours of Myer were almost as unmemorable and sleepy as the music which pollutes the air there, except of course for my most exciting ‘run in’ (as it was later referred to) with Thelma, the fitting room lady. This ‘run in’ involved me politely refusing to take clothes back to an adjacent apartment because I was alone in Basque, and Thelma then accosting me a few minutes after this polite refusal to ask me my name (which she wilfully mispronounced!) so that she could ‘report me’. However, her ‘report’ was treated with barely contained laughter by my manager, much to Thelma’s displeasure. Whilst, this all was admittedly tame it was quite fun to be questioned about my ‘run in’ with the evil Thelma by my colleagues who were keen to share their similarly exciting ‘run in with Thelma’ stories.

The third portion of my day was the part of the day that in my mind belonged to Nanna and was set to begin as soon as I finished work. However, I selfishly ate into this time by not rushing to the bus so that I could get to the hospice as soon as was humanly possibly, but rather wandering into a shop and trying on clothes (feeling guilty all the while, as this was Nanna’s time) and finally purchasing a pair of shorts. After, committing the terrible crime of purchasing shorts in Nanna’s time, I caught the bus, picked up my car and drove to the hospice, with all my windows cleverly wound down to compensate for the lack of a working air conditioner. I then parallel parked my huge dented penis car (like the accomplished parallel parker that I am) and walked around to the hospice. What immediately struck me about the hospice, aside from that it is nestled in lovely gardens was the incredible kindness of everyone there - the lady at the front desk chatted to me about the pronunciation of Nanna’s surname, and gave me careful directions to her room. The nurse who came to wash my Nanna with lavender and soap, was happy to indulge Nanna’s gloating grandmother routine (‘My granddaughter normally shower me, she does it just as well as you’, ‘My granddaughter does law - she’s very clever, and she cooks nicely too.’ ‘My granddaughter works at Myer’), allowed Nanna to ask nosey questions about her background and how long she’d been a nurse for and said lovely reassuring things when Nanna wistfully said what thick hair she used to have. Thankfully my Pa and Michael left not too long after I arrived so Nanna and I got to spend some time alone together to talk, and she got me to do things like brush her hair and take her dirty nighties home to wash. It was only when she asked me to do these things and I felt so thankful that she had, that I realised how I was scared that when I stopped doing lots of practical day-to-day things for Nanna I wouldn’t be able to show her how much I love her in a tangible way. Our time alone together ended when my Uncle Hans walked into the room. He is a usually splendidly entertaining character – his mannerisms are hilariously pronounced, his voice is a strange blend of a broad Australian accent and a recently arrived Sri Lankan that tends to stretch out words (most famously ‘I’) and his rants about the virtues of grape tomatoes, good quality olive oil, and Sydney life in general reveal an unbelievable failure to engage with reality or the people who is speaking to. However, today all this seemed exaggerated, it was some how all the more ridiculous. Hans’ exceptional strangeness aside the rest of the visit, was pleasantly reassuring Nanna seemed in good spirits and I felt it would be right to leave after only being there for forty five minutes so as to not tire Nanna out and also to give her some time alone with Hans before he went back to his beloved undaggy Sydney - home of ‘cool cafes’ and ‘good salads drizzled with olive oil’ that Hans loves to wax lyrical about. Nanna was kissed, and I left.

The fourth portion was the part of my day which I hoped would involve quiet reflection and absurdly maybe even some study. However, when I came home my Mother was just about to begin an impressive and lengthy retelling of the events of the day. In this one and a half hour extravaganza (with numerous intermissions for Michael’s shower, incoming phone calls and the preparation of fortifying Gimlets) I learnt of my Pa’s terrible misbehaviour that involved incredible rudeness and irrational accusations levelled at my Mother, the evil plots of Mad Aunt Paula the Perpetual Troublemaker and Villian which involved making phone calls to all of Nanna’s doctors and nurses in order to feed them lies about how my Mother had not told her anything about my Nanna’s illness and most entertainingly that Hans who has been unable to cope with the antics of my Pa and my Nanna’s illness had got himself completed stoned. Suddenly, the way in which Hans had picked up my spangled rainbow bag and stared fascinated at it with bloodshot eyes as it spun backwards and forwards in the air and said ‘I like your bag, it’s kindaaa groooveeeeee’ made sense. After those discoveries, I retired to the study with a much deserved Kailua and milk and thought about how my day should end with a fifth portion featuring a beast and a desperate need for an air conditioner.

'Do you look professional today?' Mirror, Myer.

chidley

Sun, 01 Jan 2006 12:30:41 GMT

I spent three hours lying half-naked in the sun reading my book, and consequently a sun-drunk and vaguely literary and happy feeling has enveloped me. I've been toying with the idea of going to the beach, or maybe even to the river for a walk, but exercise only appeals to me when it comes in the fun and wonderfully salty form of the former, and alas I don't have the time for that. Now, I’ve decided that I would like to write exclusively about last evening.

---

Last night I hurriedly dealt with the chaos I'd left in the kitchen, and got dressed in my red lace top. I tied a ribbon in my hair after I had craftily just brushed strategic sections of it so that it looked far less likely to be housing small animals. I loaded my car, and then squeezed through my door that only opens a third of the way that it should; I ought to have the panel replaced but I don't want to part with four hundred dollars just yet, besides sometimes I'm almost convinced that the crumpled panel lends the car some much needed character.

When I pulled up Daniel had just got back with a bottle of cold rose sheathed in crumpled brown paper and I was forty minutes late, rather than the twenty five that I had promised. After some kissing for kissing's sake inside we left, bound for Green Peace.

Car conversation ceased when new music was put on and I became the audience of one to an impromptu performance. As we approached Green Peace we saw that the cars of Green Peace goers had overflowed from the car park and lined the road as well. Green Peace which I fondly thought of as resplendently secluded and other peopless was teeming. Knowing even then that it was silly, I nonetheless felt unduly disappointed as I envisioned an hour of unsuccessfully searching for a spot, at the end of which we would finally settle for a place with shabby patchy grass, perfumed by manure and filled with a wealth of beery people playing hideous music.

Thankfully, this most terrible fate did not befall me, and the place at the base of the turn off before Green Peace was perfect for our purposes. There was a small created beach, gloriously unpatchy and lush grass; all of it hemmed in by limestone cliffs. And furthermore there was only one other couple there who had for some unfathomable reason decided to spend the evening fishing together, and Exceloo - a public toilet that spoke politely, played elevator music and cleaned itself.

We spread out the rug in a corner that was protected from the wind. The contents of the picnic basket – hummus, baba ganoush, spiced pita crisps, bocconcini, cherry tomato and prosuitto concoctions , florentines, brownie cupcakes, gingerbread, fudge and cherries were enthusiastically approved of by both the lovely beast (who applauded my culinary prowess) and myself. We drank wine, listened to My Ella, His Roy and Our Bob, made snide suppositions about the people on passing boats that threw bad music across the water at us, hesitantly lit candles, curled up together and tried to determine which celestial beings were stars and which were planets, mused about our relationship, each other and relationships in general, flitted through our series of most favourite conversation topics and did some more kissing for kissing’s sake.

Eventually the urge to slip into bed together overcame us, and we left. The evening and 2005 were ended in the best way possible.

---

‘Take it, don’t turn away…’ Song for the Asking, Simon and Garfunkel

never so loved

Sat, 03 Dec 2005 13:22:37 GMT

All of us are here today to remember Mary Martina Nerissa DeNiese, who many of us knew fondly as ‘Aunty’. Whilst everyone knew Aunty to have been a person of remarkable warmth and generosity of spirit, not all, particularly those who may only have come to know Aunty in the last few years, know much about the exceptional ninety three years she lived in devoted service to those around her. So, I would like to briefly illuminate something of this life, and the person it showed Aunty to be, although Michael will speak in greater depth in the eulogy at the cemetery.

Aunty’s story begins in January 20th 1912, in the year that the Titanic sank, George V reigned, Oliver Twist was released in picture theatres, and Jack Judge and Henry Williams sang ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’. Aunty was born in Batticloa in Ceylon and was the eighth of nine children to Francis and Elizabeth DeNiese. Aunty never married and had children, in spite of her lovely nature, many talents and beautiful looks. But throughout her life she cared for more children and gave more to others than any mother, or person that I have ever known. This was true both in Ceylon where she cared for her parents, her sister’s children and grandchildren, and also in Australia which she migrated with her family to in the early seventies and lived first in Jackie and Hilary’s home and later for over some twenty years in Charmaine and Vivian’s home.

There are many of you here today, across numerous generations, who like me remember Aunty’s incredible warmth, wisdom and care as a defining element of their childhoods. Even those of you who only came to know Aunty in the last couple of years when she lived at Villa Pellatier know how she was universally adored both from her constant flood of visitors and the many friends that she made in the Villa.

Aunty to me was a truly great person, unlike any I have ever known – she took immense joy in giving to others her whole life through with no thought of herself. Aunty will be forever etched in my memory as a paragon of how to live, give and love.
- I read this at Aunty’s mass

When I was ten my best friend’s mother (Aunty Barbara) died of a brain tumour. My mother was careful to shield me from the details and reality of Aunty Barbara’s death and illness - I never got to see her when she stopped looking like herself, I didn’t attend the funeral. And as a child the dark, serious elements of life were cast in a surreal light, even now the memories retain that distant, unreal tinge.

When I got the missed call on my phone from my Mother, it wasn’t even seven, and the only reason I had disentangled my self from my warm sleeping Daniel was to get a glass of water. I began to panic when I realised she had called, I thought of my Nanna with her partially shaved head divided with a stitched cut that goes from the left side of her skull down to the right side of her face. I thought of the eight mushrooming dark growths in her brain, the shaky hands, the walk that involves shuffling, tentative steps that veer to the left, the voice that fizzles out trying to remember a name or a noun. Then I imagined her alone in her hospital bed prone and pale accompanied by the blip of a life support machine.

Then, my mother told me that Aunty had died. Aunty who sewed my white lace party dresses with ribbon roses and satin bows on the shoulders, Aunty who fed me rice with butter mixed through it, Aunty who always let me unburden my worries about my mother and explained it all away with a soft, caring tone of voice, Aunty who watched Bold and the Beautiful in the afternoons with me, Aunty who told my mother to be kind to me because I was sensitive, Aunty who for the two years of my life that she didn’t live with my Grandparents I visited religiously at least once a week, usually twice. For the last month of her life, I didn’t see her once. Not even for the last six days when she was in a hospital block only five hundred metres from the place that I visited my Nanna a few times a day. I was going to see her on the day that she died. I had been looking after my Nanna before, doling out medicines, washing dishes, waiting outside hospital rooms and at the end of the evening once I’d checked she was asleep or visiting hours had finished I had no energy for anyone else. I thought that Aunty would always be there, she was a permanent fixture of my life. So much so that I can’t bring myself to talk about her in the past tense.

The day after the funeral they told my grandmother it was far advanced cancer that had spread throughout her body, it had begun in her lungs. A few days later she was told it was in her bones as well, which is the most painful and grim stage of cancer. My dog had to be put down that day too after a ladder fell on her. And on my way to my evening visit to Nanna I discovered that someone had kindly reversed into my car while Dan and I were consuming noodles and watching Seinfeld and not left a note in spite of doing five hundred dollars worth of damage.

There is always a lump in my throat, and the fuzzy feeling you get from holding back crying is ever present. I don’t cry in front of my family, or my nanna and not even with Dan whom I’m probably most relaxed around. I cry when I trip over or I spill a glass of water or it starts to rain. But I don’t cry over my Nanna. I don’t cry because I’m starting to hate my grandfather because of his selfish, spoilt child like behaviour and the way he is hell bent on self-destruction even when his wife is dying, his ever-present cask of wine, the stink of the hundred cigarettes he smokes that follows him wherever he goes like a shadow, his coughing fits that end in unconsciousness and leave my grandmother shaken for hours. I don’t cry when I see my mother sobbing, or my brother weeping. I don’t cry over these things yet.

Thu, 27 Oct 2005 11:53:20 GMT

I don't know how I've managed to get through these past few days with such a seemingly convincing facade of cheerfulness, and optimism. But, having spent a couple of days in bed, I've begun to realise the enormity of what is happening to my Danny. My Danny, most probably has contracted HIV. Simon, as a doctor who has worked a lot with AIDs and HIV patients thinks there's an above eighty percent chance that he has it. My first reaction upon learning of it from a teary Danny speaking in his soft, unsure voice that he uses on rare, sad occasions, was to get him to come home to me so that I can look after him and have him close. I allow myself to falsely hope that we could recapture that invincibility that we both used to inspire each other feel. That maybe being together again like we used to be sharing coffee and newspapers in bed, throwing verses of poetry at each other over the dinner table at parties, dancing in our silly but perfectly in sync way would some how scare away this strange shadow that has been cast on his future. Although Danny's behaviour over the past few months has spoken otherwise, he is a person of inherent value, he's probably the only person aside from my family that I enduringly and deeply love. I'm so afraid for him, I'd much rather I was the one facing this. I also blame myself. I know that my selfishness, and failure to forgive him and exercise some compassion ultimately led to his life taking the direction that it has. I know it may seem ridiculous in many ways but this is my fault as much as his, if not more. And he's beautiful, aesthetically and otherwise, he's not deserving of this. I just don't know what to do, how to help, how to come to terms with it. If this was happening to me, I almost know I could cope better, I've had things happen to me in my life, that I've barely spoken of, and haven't let affect me that much given their nature, and I am actually capable of coping with a lot. I'd sooner be able to cope with suffering myself than having someone like Dan suffer. I'm so afraid for him.

images of broken light

Tue, 25 Oct 2005 14:51:25 GMT

My favourite beatles song, actually probably my favourite song in general is flooding through me in the most lovely manner. I have earphones on so as to not disturb my brother as he splutteringly taps out bits of his thesis. Three dirty glasses, a discarded red hair ribbon, a camera and an assortment of cords clutter the desk that I sit at.

This song always makes me think of Hana. Hana and cocktails at Kandalama. Hana and chain-smoking and conversations about illicit deeds on the hotel balcony. Hana and I escaping our Mothers. Hana and our sporadic but precious correspondence. At the moment however, my mind is fixed on Hana and her supposition about us both turning into our Mothers. Right now this suggestion doesn't seem as ridiculous as it once may have, as I have taken to communicating frustration and anger through the slam of cupboard doors and crushing crescendo of rattling saucepans. How I recoiled when I realised that I had taken to the very behaviour that has incensed me my whole life through.

At the moment I wish very much that honeyandlemondrinkman would materialise. Stodgy conversation and ample affection would do me more good than the medicine proffered really. My own neediness needles me. It does, but how can one not urge the licking of flesh with flesh as frequently as possible? Oh, my appetites too oft completely consume me.

And now to less vague and ephemeral matters - Kathy and I saw Pride and Prejudice this evening. I quite cruelly consumed divine boiled lollies and biscuits all the way through it. It was not as awful as I expected, indeed Jane and Mr. Bennet were better cast than in my beloved BBC adaptation. But, why did the film makers underestimate the modern audience’s capacity for appreciating the intricacies and nuances of the class issues involved? It was just so terribly simplified that most of the charm was undone, and as an ardent Jane Austen lover the crudity with which it was transcribed had me aghast.

This week has been nice in spite of the flu I seem to have caught (again). Monday was well spent in bed cuddled up and snuggled up with good literature and good company. And today, well today I said farewell to the lovely Dave Van Mill, at least until next semester. My Saturday was very amusing, I most adored becoming Snow White for an evening although I doubt the world has ever seen such a soused and silly Snow White. I waxed lyrical about some of my favourite topics (is real or imagined misfortune worst?, the ridiculousness of marriage, how awful the Walrus is, and is a consequentialist or deontological approach preferable), I skipped, sang and frolicked to the Sound of Music, put my feet up on many a lap and robbed poor Snow White of any virtue she may have had (in a rather noisy fashion I am told, although my memory doesn't serve me too well on that point).

I am considering getting into bed now. It's strange how comforting and lovely the warmth of another in one's bed can be. I also adore watching people sleep. When I am feeling rather wicked I tickle the noses of the asleep with my hair and giggle at the responses that this incites. It seems I take to affectionate cruelty quite well.

Michael has just come in and wished me good night in Kathy’s polka dot satin robe, which he wore most fetchingly inside out.

almost there

Tue, 18 Oct 2005 09:02:29 GMT

Does the concept of rights help or hinder the abortion debate?

The concept of rights is central to the values of modern, western liberal societies. Within these societies moral issues are debated almost exclusively from a particular rights theory perspective. The moral debate surrounding the issue of abortion showcases the inherent complexity of and difficulties associated with modern rights theories. An examination of the abortion issue allows the merits and weaknesses of a rights theory approach to moral issues more generally to be assessed. In spite of the fact that almost all those involved in the abortion debate subscribe to some brand of rights theory they are nevertheless unable to reach any consensus. In order to gauge the usefulness of the concept of rights, and its manifestations in the abortion debate, the nature of rights theory itself must first be defined, and the assumptions underlying the divergent arguments it generates analysed. The merits of non-rights theory arguments in the abortion context must also be examined. If this is achieved, then ….filler sentence but not too similar to concluding sentence.

The prevalence of rights theory in western liberal societies often results in their being spoken of as accepted facts, which belies the innately complex nature of rights theory. Rights can generally be thought of as being

Given that the ‘right to life’ is widely considered to be one of the most stringent and convincing rights claims that can be made(Boonin,2003:27) it should come as no surprise that typically RTLs have tried to prove abortion to be wrong by prescribing the right to life to the foetus. One of the most simplistic ways in which they have tried to do this is by claiming that human beings have a right to life, and that foetuses are human beings and thus too have a right to life. As a result the abortion debate has mistakenly tended to focus on determining whether a foetus is a human being (Singer,1993:150). To prove this conservative RTLs use modern science about DNA to claim that ‘the unique, never-to-repeated individual human being was drawn forth from his parents at the time of conception (Ramsey,1971:38). Their argument also capitalises on the gradual nature of the development of the foetus, as they challenge the PC to identify ‘any stage in this gradual process that marks a morally significant dividing line’(Singer,1993:138). Some PCs attempt to draw this line at points such as birth, viability, quickening and consciousness(Thiroux,1998:265) or attempt to refute the argument on other grounds such as lack of personhood or rationality in the foetus(Marquis,1989:184). Whilst, the debate about when human life begins is in itself perpetually intricate, what is valuable to deduce from it is that both the PCs and the RTLs fail to adequately explain why their particular claim about a certain characteristic of the foetus justifies it having or not having the right to life((Marquis,1989:184),(Singer,1993:150)). This reveals a flawed conception of the nature of rights, as in order to be able to claim a right one must provide adequate, and logical justification for the right(reference). To claim that human beings have a right to life because they are human beings is circular and erroneous. The only possible justification of such a claim would be a religious one, which is as Singer suggests where the blind and unjustified sanctity of human life began(Singer,1993) – unable to prove/or convince each other. This reveals the way in which due to the way in which certain rights have become seemingly sacrosanct, they tend to be claimed without adequate justification, or correct application, and highlights the way in which the prevalence of rights theory in society is counterproductive in that at times its misapplication and elevation leads to moral questions being answered incorrectly. This highlights the need to link characteristics and provide adequate justification for the claiming of a right.

An argument about abortion that does attempt to show the way in which the rights that can be attributed to a foetus are linked to its characteristics, is that of Tooley’s. Tooley claims that in order to have a right one must have an interest or desire which is furthered by that right (Tooley,1972:49), and this comes from Feinberg’s account. He then claims that in order to have a right to life, an individual must desire the continuance of its life over time, which requires an awareness of its existence as continuing over time(Tooley,1972:49). Foetuses clearly do not possess this awareness, nor do infants or severely disabled adults, thus they do not have a right to life. The most striking feature of Tooley’s application of rights theory on the problem of abortion is that he does not attempt to narrow his theory in order to avoid the difficult consequence of not ascribing to infants, and thus develops a theory of rights that shows an adequate relationship between the right being claimed and the object claiming the right. Tooley’s arguments also reveal the assumption that rights are not the only moral claims, and that others may enter into the equation, as such Tooley cannot be seen to be advocating unrestricted infanticide, but rather admits that on the basis of rights alone, it is not wrong, and this is not to say that other factors may enter the equation to find infanticide morally wrong, for example the wishes of the parents etc. Tooley’s brand of rights theory and the way in which he applies it to the abortion issue reveals the way in which rights theories are often mistaken as being the only moral concerns, and that as a result they are manipulated to avoid unpleasant or repugnant consequences, however if as Tooley does they accepted as being one of a number of moral concerns to determine outcomes then it may lead to a formulation of rights theory which is more logical and consequently defensible and practicable. ADDRESS COMA EXAMPLE FLAW

Another argument that makes a more sophisticated attempt at attributing a right to life to the foetus on the basis not of the foetus being a human being, but rather that the foetus is a potential human being. As Singer observes one of the strengths of this argument is that the premise ‘a foetus is a potential human being’ cannot be refuted, however the premise that potential humans should have the rights of human beings requires a compelling justification (Singer, 1993:152-153). Marquis makes the claim that the wrongness of killing turns on the fact that in doing so one deprives the individual in question of the experience of its valuable future(Marquis,1989:190), and because a foetus has a potential for a valuable future killing it is wrong. However, Marquis by his own admission fails to show ‘what it is about the future… of adult human beings which makes it wrong to kill us’(Marquis,1989:191) which he says is a ‘very difficult matter’(Marquis,1989:191). The success of Marquis’s claims about the wrongness of killing require such an explanation, and the fact that he does not deem it necessary to provide one reveals that his argument possesses the same weakness of other RTLs arguments in that they are underpinned by the idea that it is wrong to kill human simply by virtue of its being human, which can only be justified on a religious basis. The obvious way in which the future of a human being can be shown to make it wrong to kill it is because the human being in question values their own future (this is evident in the examples Marquis gives (Marquis,1989:190) this however requires awareness of one’s continuing existence over time(Tooley,1989) and excludes foetuses, thus not supporting Marquis’s conclusions. The way in which Marquis attempts to attribute a right to life to the foetus is indicative of the way in which many applications of rights theory are undermined by assumptions about the value of human life that are not able to be justified on any logical basis, and signals the way in which rights theory is only useful in determining moral questions when it avoids such fallacies.

There are a number of arguments that seek to determine whether abortion is wrong by attempting to resolve the competing rights claims that arise in the instance of abortion. One such account is Thomson’s which argues that even if the foetus does have a right to life there are still instances in which abortion is morally defensible. Thomson’s argues by analogy to show that although the foetus has a right to life this right to life does not ‘entail a right to the use of another’s body, even if without the use one will die’(Singer,1993:147) and as such a woman’s right to control what happens in her own body makes it morally permissible to abort the foetus. This argument reveals a ‘negative’ conception of rights theory, that is that rights do not spurn positive duties, unless a special relationship is explicitly or implicitly resumed, which is not the case in most pregnancies. As Singer observes the validity of Thompson’s argument depends greatly on whether her conception of rights theory is correct(Singer,1993:147). Singer argues that buying a stereo when you could use the money to save the life of a starving person whilst possibly selfish is not immoral in that it does not constitute violating another’s right to life(Singer,1993:223). Singer argues that to demand any more than the duties spurned from a negative conception of rights is simply not practicable, as it would require an exceptional degree of ‘moral heroism’(Singer,1993:223) that most recognise as unreasonable, and like Thomson emphaises the need to distinguish between ‘selfish, callous and indecent’(Thomson,1971:. As Thomson also observes in support of her negative conception of rights, most laws reveal a negative conception of rights, in respect to the duties we owe to others, and at times these duties fall far short of even Thomson’s expectations of the ‘minimally decent Samaritan’(Thomson,1971:63). The way in which Thomson’s argument assesses the abortion debate with a negative conception of rights theory is very important, and also the way in which she admits the competing and conflicting rights claims that arise and suggests some means by which to resolve them. The key strength of Thomson’s argument is that she justifies and explains her underpinning conception of rights, and as such her application of rights theory, is arguably the most useful of those discussed, as it reveals a fluency and understanding of rights theory which facilitates its logical and convincing application to the problem of abortion.

Whilst there are a wealth of compelling non-rights based arguments about the abortion debate for the purposes of this essay, just one from each side of the debate will be examined, in order to demonstrate the way in which the focus on rights in determining moral questions, often leads to a failure to consider potentially worthy arguments. A popular anti-abortion argument is as Pope John Paul II termed it ‘the culture of death’ argument(Boonin,2003:298) which claims that if a society begins to permit abortion attitudes within that society will shift towards being more lax about killing in general(Boonin,2003:298). Thus, regardless of whether abortion itself involves killing of innocent beings, it must not be permitted as it will lead to the killing of less controversial beings such as the elderly and infants(Boonin,2003:298). A non-rights based argument in favour of abortion is one which claims that prohibiting abortion does not prevent abortions from occurring, but rather drives it underground leading to women endangering themselves by having backyard abortions, and foetuses still being aborted(Singer,1993:143). Therefore, one must conclude that it is wrong to prohibit abortion because the consequences of doing so are far worse than if abortion was permitted, because in either case foetuses will still be killed, but if abortion is banned women will be endangered as well (Singer,1993:143). Whilst, some claims of these two arguments are both possibly dubious, it is hard to argue that they are any more dubious than many of the claims of rights-based arguments, and yet largely because they apply a consequentialist analysis to the abortion problem they are not given adequate consideration. Although, rights-theory is in many ways useful, the way in which it is often considered the only way to determine moral questions is a definite hindrance, as perhaps the failure of those subscribing to rights-theory to reach any consensus suggests the need for real consideration and incorporation of other moral theories such as consequentialism into the debate.

Thus, in determining whether the concept of rights helps or hinders the abortion debate, one must inevitably concede that it does both for a number of reasons. Firstly, the concept of rights can be seen to be helpful to the abortion debate in that it provides, an albeit broad, common starting point for those involved in the debate, and as such narrows the issues to be determined to things such as who is the subject of a right and on what basis, how competing or conflicting rights claims should be resolved, and the nature of the duties that rights generate. Secondly however, the concept of rights can also be argued to hinder the abortion debate, in that the conclusions one makes about rights is very much determined by factors such as one’s specific view of human nature (Taylor) and conception of the good life, and thus a need to examine the validity of these underpinning assumptions arises which heightens the complexity of the debate. Finally, the overwhelming focus on rights theory in the abortion debate can be viewed as something of a hindrance on the basis that it results in the exclusion of other potentially valid and persuasive moral theories such as utilitarianism. If this analysis is completed, a greater and deeper understanding of both the nature of rights theory and the abortion debate will be developed, which in turn will facilitate a more complete understanding of contemporary ethical debates in general.

Mon, 17 Oct 2005 00:20:16 GMT

Intro.
Does the concept of rights help or hinder the abortion debate?

The concept of rights is central to the values of modern, western liberal societies (reference). Within these societies moral issues are debated almost exclusively from a particular rights theory perspective. The moral debate surrounding the issue of abortion showcases the inherent complexity of and difficulties associated with modern rights theories. An examination of the abortion issue allows the merits and weaknesses of a rights theory approach to moral issues more generally to be assessed. In spite of the fact that almost all those involved in the abortion debate subscribe to some brand of rights theory they are nevertheless unable to reach any consensus. In order to gauge the usefulness of the concept of rights, and its manifestations in the abortion debate, the nature of rights theory itself must first be defined, and the assumptions underlying the divergent arguments it generates analysed. The merits of non-rights theory arguments in the abortion context must also be examined. If this is achieved, then ….filler sentence but not too similar too concluding sentence.

In modern western liberal societies, the prevalence of rights theory results often in their being spoken of as ‘accepted facts’ which belies the innately complex nature of rights theory which must be appreciated in order to consider the role of rights theory in the abortion debate. Rights generally can be thought of as being ….. Rights usually take the form of ‘A has a right to X against B by virtue of Y’. With A being the object/person claiming the right, X the thing which is being claimed, B being who the right can be claimed from, and Y being the justification of the right. Whilst, rights are often claimed to be pre-social, inalienable universal etc. There are a number of different sources of rights that are claimed for example, nature, humanity, worth or dignity of the individual, rationality, being linked to specific interests or needs. Rights are based on a specific view of human nature, and conception of the ‘good life’ as such rights and views on them are largely dependant on …. .
Sketch abortion debate
A negative rights claim is one to leave someone alone
A positive rights claim is to provide assistance/creates duties
Rights are normally claimed to be pre-social, universal, inviolable and inalienable eg. UDHR and US bill of rights
Drawkin rights act as trump cards and demand that we are treated as ends in ourselves.
Rights are often talked as of simple facts, and such discussion of rights belies the complexities inherent in rights theories.
The source of rights – nature – humanity – worth/dignity – rationality – interests/needs – God
Taylor – lists of rights are based on a specific view of human nature
Can see this by looking at lists of rights – ascribe rights to things that we think will promote important human capacities.
Those rights can only be promoted in particular societies, hence rights are not pre-social.
If we support these rights we should develop them in ourselves and others, should also supports some intervention, counter-intutive conclusion. Society is actually prior to rights, thus rights are obliged to support society.
Rights are moral claims – human construct.
Normative statements – represents the belief that certain attributes are necessary, why, important, facilitate the ‘good life’ – must know what the good life is – must know what the good life is, requires model of HR protections and opportunity.
Taylor – rights are linked to certain kinds of social organisations, another moral idea that has to compete with other moral claims. – not necessarily universal, inviolable – right
Elements
Distinctive Functions
- conferring authority and benefits
- claiming things as one’s due
- the focusing function
- multiple functions
- the entitlement theory
- the entitlement plus theory
- the legally implemented entitlements theory

Given that the ‘right to life’ is widely considered to be one of the most stringent and convincing rights claims that can be made(Boonin,2003:27) it should come as no surprise that typically RTLs have tried to prove abortion to be wrong by prescribing the right to life to the foetus. One of the most simplistic ways in which they have tried to do this is by claiming that human beings have a right to life, and that foetuses are human beings and thus too have a right to life. As a result the abortion debate has mistakenly tended to focus on determining whether a foetus is a human being (Singer,1993:150). To prove this conservative RTLs use modern science about DNA to claim that ‘the unique, never-to-repeated individual human being was drawn forth from his parents at the time of conception (Ramsey,1971:38). Their argument also capitaliss on the gradual nature of the development of the foetus, as they challenge the PC to identify ‘any stage in this gradual process that marks a morally significant dividing line’(Singer,1993:138). Some PCs attempt to draw this line at points such as birth, viability, quickening and consciousness(Thiroux,1998:265) or attempt to refute the argument on other grounds such as lack of personhood or rationality in the foetus(Marquis,1989:184). Whilst, the debate about when human life begins is in itself perpetually intricate, what is valuable to deduce from it is that both the PCs and the RTLs fail to adequately explain why their particular claim about a certain characteristic of the foetus justifies it having or not having the right to life((Marquis,1989:184),(Singer,1993:150)). This reveals a flawed conception of the nature of rights, as in order to be able to claim a right one must provide adequate, and logical justification for the right(reference). To claim that human beings have a right to life because they are human beings is circular and erroneous. The only possible justification of such a claim would be a religious one, which is as Singer suggests where the blind and unjustified sanctity of human life began(Singer,1993) – unable to prove/or convince each other. This reveals the way in which due to the way in which certain rights have become seemingly sacrosanct, they tend to be claimed without adequate justification, or correct application, and highlights the way in which the prevalence of rights theory in society is counterproductive in that at times its misapplication and elevation leads to moral questions being answered incorrectly. This highlights the need to link characteristics and provide adequate justification for the claiming of a right.

An argument about abortion that does attempt to show the way in which the rights that can be attributed to a foetus are linked to its characteristics, is that of Tooley’s. Tooley claims that in order to have a right one must have an interest or desire which is furthered by that right (Tooley,1972:49). He then claims that in order to have a right to life, an individual must desire the continuance of its life over time, which requires an awareness of its existence as continuing over time(Tooley,1972:49). Foetuses clearly do not possess this awareness, nor do infants or severely disabled adults, thus they do not have a right to life. The most striking feature of Tooley’s application of rights theory on the problem of abortion is that he does not attempt to narrow his theory in order to avoid the difficult consequence of not ascribing to infants, and thus develops a theory of rights that shows an adequate relationship between the right being claimed and the object claiming the right. Tooley’s arguments also reveal the assumption that rights are not the only moral claims, and that others may enter into the equation, as such Tooley cannot be seen to be advocating unrestricted infanticide, but rather admits that on the basis of rights alone, it is not wrong, and this is not to say that other factors may enter the equation to find infanticide morally wrong, for example the wishes of the parents etc. Tooley’s brand of rights theory and the way in which he applies it to the abortion issue reveals the way in which rights theories are often mistaken as being the only moral concerns, and that as a result they are manipulated to avoid unpleasant or repugnant consequences, however if as Tooley does they accepted as being one of a number of moral concerns to determine outcomes then it may lead to a formulation of rights theory which is more logical and consequently defensible and practicable. ADDRESS COMA EXAMPLE FLAW

- Marquis – a foetus has a prima facie right to life because to kill it would be to deprive it of its valuable future.

- Arguments says rights turn on POTENTIALITY of subject

- Argues that abortion is generally in the same moral category as killing an innocent human being

- See assessment of desire and discontinuation account – argues that they themselves lead to his potentiality argument if properly understood

- SINGER CRITIQUE/BOONIN CRITIQUE

- Argument is weaker than if the foetus is a human being, rather than a potential human being – however it assumes that if something is a potential human being it has the rights of a human being – need a compelling reason to justify this – not necessarily there

- Normally claimed that the future of a rational individual is inherently good – shaky ground

- That the individual in question will care.

Thus, in determining whether the concept of rights helps or hinders the abortion debate, one must inevitably concede that it does both for a number of reasons. Firstly, the concept of rights can be seen to be helpful to the abortion debate in that it provides, an albeit broad, common starting point for those involved in the debate, and as such narrows the issues to be determined to things such as who is the subject of a right and on what basis, how competing or conflicting rights claims should be resolved, and the nature of the duties that rights generate. Secondly however, the concept of rights can also be argued to hinder the abortion debate, in that the conclusions one makes about rights is very much determined by factors such as one’s specific view of human nature (Taylor) and conception of the good life, and thus a need to examine the validity of these underpinning assumptions arises which heightens the complexity of the debate. Finally, the overwhelming focus on rights theory in the abortion debate can be viewed as something of a hindrance on the basis that it results in the exclusion of other potentially valid and persuasive moral theories such as utilitarianism. If this analysis is completed, a greater and deeper understanding of both the nature of rights theory and the abortion debate will be developed, which in turn will facilitate a more complete understanding of contemporary ethical debates in general.

this is because the concept of rights is widely accepted in society, and usual lines along which moral questions are determined, this sort of broad consensus about a general governing moral theory and system is helpful, however at the same time the complexity of rights theory and the way in which it is underpinned by a particular view of human nature, stems from different justifications and

This very fact speaks volumes both to the nature of rights theory, and the abortion debate itself.

Thus, in determining whether the concept of rights helps or hinders the abortion debate, one must concede that it does both, this is because the concept of rights helps the abortion debate in that it is the usual way moral questions are determined in society, and thus most likely to

Background

Questions that turn on if a foetus has a claim to life
1. Is human vs is not
2. Is not does not have interests tied to need/ ‘property p’ Tooley – flaw coma example
3. potentiality – ‘a future like ours’ – Marquis – but critique – Singer and Boonin
arguments that accept that the foetus has a right to life but admit competing rights
1. Thomson – distinguishes between letting someone die and killing them – do not owe anything – minimally decent Samaritan – Singer – good analysis – also see boonin
Arguments that are not rights theory based.
Singer – consequentialism – not the law’s business

- As evident in the very namesakes of the opposing groups (‘right to life’ and ‘right to choose’) of the abortion debate, both sides of the debate invoke rights theory to support their position. The fact that typically those involved in the abortion debate have used the powerful language of rights to support is indicative of how rights theory is central to the values of modern liberal societies, as ‘rights’ are viewed as seemingly sacrosanct within them.
- This support

-
-
- Dworkin ‘rights as trumps’
- Nickel – rights theory
- Taylor – rights theory
- Flawed feminists
- Religious ethicists
- Tooley – property ‘p’
- Marquis – potentiality
- Thompson – Even if…

Negative vs positive notion of rights
What part is being contested
Hierarchy of rights
Challenges to rights theory (Bentham, Singer)

Rights theory

Hobbes pinpointed the right to self-defence (that is to invade, kill, steal etc if necessary for survival) as the only natural right that could credibly be argued to exist. This is because one cannot make a rights claim until there are political institutions to claim them against, therefore all other rights are not pre-social.

Locke’s conception of pre-social rights was more extensive than Hobbes, as he included (held paramount) the right to property as being pre-social.

Rawls determined rights to be what rational individuals would choose under certain conditions.

Early rights theorists formulated and considered ‘negative rights’ and it was only really in the twentieth century that idea of ‘positive rights’ developed and took hold (also known as welfare/group/community rights) ‘positive’ vs negative conceptions of rights.

Bentham offered a critique of rights, claiming them to be “Great enemies of public peace” as they let loose human passions and desires into the realm of public policy etc (?). He rejects the idea of natural rights, and argues that only legal rights are logical. Natural rights he argues are simply figurative.
Bentham also rejects Locke’s claim that the right to property is pre-social, as he subscribes to the Hobbesian catch cry that there is “no mine and no thine” in the state of nature.
He claims that the danger of claiming universal and inalienable rights is that government can never interfere with them, as he claims that the only defensible justification of rights is that their prevalence in society will be on the whole to its benefit. Thus, it follows that Bentham believes that when upholding rights does not serve the interests of society they should be abandoned in favour of what does.

He recognise the tension that exists between the claims of rights and law.(?)

Check lecture – dangerous, promotes instability, inflammatory -

Negative rights can be argued to be more defensible as well as seemingly cheaper than positive rights HOWEVER they do require government, police forces, courts etc

A negative rights claim is one to leave someone alone
A positive rights claim is to provide assistance/creates duties

Rights are normally claimed to be pre-social, universal, inviolable and inalienable eg. UDHR and US bill of rights

Drawkin rights act as trump cards and demand that we are treated as ends in ourselves.

Rights are often talked as of simple facts, and such discussion of rights belies the complexities inherent in rights theories.
The source of rights – nature – humanity – worth/dignity – rationality – interests/needs – God
Taylor – lists of rights are based on a specific view of human nature
Can see this by looking at lists of rights – ascribe rights to things that we think will promote important human capacities.
Those rights can only be promoted in particular societies, hence rights are not pre-social.
If we support these rights we should develop them in ourselves and others, should also supports some intervention, counter-intutive conclusion. Society is actually prior to rights, thus rights are obliged to support society.

Rights are moral claims – human construct.
Normative statements – represents the belief that certain attributes are necessary, why, important, facilitate the ‘good life’ – must know what the good life is – must know what the good life is, requires model of HR protections and opportunity.
Taylor – rights are linked to certain kinds of social organisations, another moral idea that has to compete with other moral claims. – not necessarily universal, inviolable – right

- Acknowledge that both sides of the abortion debate use the invocation of rights theory to support their views “right to life” and “right to choose”.
- Define rights theory.
o Acknowledge that rights can be negative(Hobbes, Locke) or positive (positive theories of rights only really came about in the 20th century)
o Rights are often claimed to be pre-social, inviolable, inalienable, universal etc as illustrated in the wording of the UDHR and US bill of rights
o There are a number of different sources of rights that are claimed – nature – humanity – worth/dignity of the individual – rationality – linked to specific interests/needs (Marquis) - God
o Rights are based on a specific view of human nature (Taylor) Can see this by looking at lists of rights – ascribe rights to things that we think will promote human capacities that we hold to be important
o Rights often conflict with one another THUS the need to arrange them in a hierarchy arises – how they are ordered depends on individual values and morals.
o Take the form of ‘A has a right to X against B by virtue of Y’
- Sketch the abortion debate – pro-choice vs RTL – acknowledge the different groups within the two sides and the different justifications for their viewpoints

Who is the subject of a right to life? – Tooley – in order to have a right one must have interests/desires which are furthered by the right. DESIRE ACCOUNT
Marquis - a foetus has a prima facie right to life because to kill it would be to deprive it of its valuable future. POTENTIALITY
DISCONTINUATION – religious justification of right to life of foetus
PC – fetus is not a life RTLs Fetus is a life – justification (?) sketchy – god – not life until born

Even if the foetus is admitted to have a right to life, do the rights of the mother ever override/outweigh this right?
Judith Jarvis Thompson – rape – have taken precautions – self-defense
Rather, the right to life consists of the right to not be killed unjustly. In the case of the kidney squatting violinist, he does not have any right at all to the use of your kidneys if you do not first give him the right. In disconnecting yourself from him, you would kill him, but as he has already unjustly connected himself (or had himself connected) to you, your action would simply be to right a wrong done unto you. It is an unfortunate consequence that the violinist dies in the process
Rather, the right to life consists of the right to not be killed unjustly. In the case of the kidney squatting violinist, he does not have any right at all to the use of your kidneys if you do not first give him the right. In disconnecting yourself from him, you would kill him, but as he has already unjustly connected himself (or had himself connected) to you, your action would simply be to right a wrong done unto you. It is an unfortunate consequence that the violinist dies in the process
- interprets right to life differently !

politics

Fri, 14 Oct 2005 16:20:59 GMT

scared

Mon, 12 Sep 2005 13:45:37 GMT

Warm afternoons spent wrapped up in sleep and blankets together. Waiting at the bathroom door while he vomits. Hands interwoven in public. Blue ink scribbles on his essay. His hand leaving my leg to change gear. Pushing his car in the rain and abandoning my blue elf shoes in the middle of the road. Not letting anger fester inside. Make-up sex, third time today sex, half-awake sex, Simon and Garfunkel accompanied sex. My expression pasted sillily on his face. Hot lemon tea to ease my flu and Woody Allen. Lying on a rug reading our books and sharing a pretty river scene. Rolling stones on the car ride home. Tension laden, belated meetings with parents. Tickling the curve of his waist until he overpowers me. Showy, spontaneous theatrics met with giggles in his kitchen. Enchanted conversations about literature and film and politics. Sweeping the dirty dishes from his sink. Being watched through thin slits while I watch him.

---

AndIamscared.

abortion and rights theory

Thu, 25 Aug 2005 00:32:50 GMT

Rights theory
The first philosophers to truly discuss rights

Hobbes pinpointed the right to self-defence (that is to invade, kill, steal etc if necessary for survival) as the only natural right that could credibly be argued to exist. This is because one cannot make a rights claim until there are political institution to claim them against, therefore all other rights are not pre-social.

Locke’s conception of pre-social rights was more extensive than Hobbes, as he included (held paramount) the right to property as being pre-social.

Rawls determined rights to be what rational individuals would choose under certain conditions.

Early rights theorists formulated and considered ‘negative rights’ and it was only really in the twentieth century that idea of ‘positive rights’ developed and took hold (also known as welfare/group/community rights)

Bentham offered a critique of rights, claiming them to be “Great enemies of public peace” as they let loose human passions and desires into the realm of public policy etc (?). He rejects the idea of natural rights, and argues that only legal rights are logical. Natural rights he argues are simply figurative.
Bentham also rejects Locke’s claim that the right to property is pre-social, as he subscribes to the Hobbesian catch cry that there is “no mine and no thine” in the state of nature.
He claims that the danger of claiming universal and inalienable rights is that government can never interfere with them, as he claims that the only defensible justification of rights is that their prevalence in society will be on the whole to its benefit. Thus, it follows that Bentham believes that when upholding rights does not serve the interests of society they should be abandoned in favour of what does.

He recognise the tension that exists between the claims of rights and law.(?)

Check lecture – dangerous, promotes instability, inflammatory -

Negative rights can be argued to be more defensible as well as seemingly cheaper than positive rights HOWEVER they do require government, police forces, courts etc

A negative rights claim is one to leave someone alone
A positive rights claim is to provide assistance/creates duties

Rights are normally claimed to be pre-social, universal, inviolable and inalienable eg. UDHR and US bill of rights

Drawkin rights act as trump cards and demand that we are treated as ends in ourselves.

Rights are often talked as of simple facts, and such discussion of rights belies the complexities inherent in rights theories.
The source of rights – nature – humanity – worth/dignity – rationality – interests/needs – God
Taylor – lists of rights are based on a specific view of human nature
Can see this by looking at lists of rights – ascribe rights to things that we think will promote important human capacities.
Those rights can only be promoted in particular societies, hence rights are not pre-social.
If we support these rights we should develop them in ourselves and others, should also supports some intervention, counter-intutive conclusion. Society is actually prior to rights, thus rights are obliged to support society.

Rights are moral claims – human construct.
Normative statements – represents the belief that certain attributes are necessary, why, important, facilitate the ‘good life’ – must know what the good life is – must know what the good life is, requires model of HR protections and opportunity.
Taylor – rights are linked to certain kinds of social organisations, another moral idea that has to compete with other moral claims. – not necessarily universal, inviolable – right

- Acknowledge that both sides of the abortion debate use the invocation of rights theory to support their views “right to life” and “right to choose”.
- Define rights theory.
o Acknowledge that rights can be negative(Hobbes, Locke) or positive (positive theories of rights only really came about in the 20th century)
o Rights are often claimed to be pre-social, inviolable, inalienable, universal etc as illustrated in the wording of the UDHR and US bill of rights
o There are a number of different sources of rights that are claimed – nature – humanity – worth/dignity of the individual – rationality – linked to specific interests/needs (Marquis) - God
o Rights are based on a specific view of human nature (Taylor) Can see this by looking at lists of rights – ascribe rights to things that we think will promote human capacities that we hold to be important
o Rights often conflict with one another THUS the need to arrange them in a hierarchy arises – how they are ordered depends on individual values and morals.
o Take the form of ‘A has a right to X against B by virtue of Y’
- Sketch the abortion debate – pro-choice vs RTL – acknowledge the different groups within the two sides and the different justifications for their viewpoints

Who is the subject of a right to life? – Tooley – in order to have a right one must have interests/desires which are furthered by the right. DESIRE ACCOUNT
Marquis - a foetus has a prima facie right to life because to kill it would be to deprive it of its valuable future. POTENTIALITY
DISCONTINUATION – religious justification of right to life of foetus
PC – fetus is not a life RTLs Fetus is a life – justification (?) sketchy – god – not life until born

Even if the foetus is admitted to have a right to life, do the rights of the mother ever override/outweigh this right?
Judith Jarvis Thompson – rape – have taken precautions – self-defense
Rather, the right to life consists of the right to not be killed unjustly. In the case of the kidney squatting violinist, he does not have any right at all to the use of your kidneys if you do not first give him the right. In disconnecting yourself from him, you would kill him, but as he has already unjustly connected himself (or had himself connected) to you, your action would simply be to right a wrong done unto you. It is an unfortunate consequence that the violinist dies in the process
Rather, the right to life consists of the right to not be killed unjustly. In the case of the kidney squatting violinist, he does not have any right at all to the use of your kidneys if you do not first give him the right. In disconnecting yourself from him, you would kill him, but as he has already unjustly connected himself (or had himself connected) to you, your action would simply be to right a wrong done unto you. It is an unfortunate consequence that the violinist dies in the process
- interprets right to life differently !

unexpected luminosity

Thu, 30 Jun 2005 16:46:38 GMT

Me. Alone and unwashed, my face still adorned with the remnants of yesterday’s makeup. My blue top that smells like the garlic and ginger and chilli that I chopped to make dinner is dirty and I’m not wearing a bra so my nipples make themselves known to those who pass me in the cold. An hour and a half of escape has been found tonight with a friend composed of giggles and little girl blondeness. She and I ensconced ourselves in her largely sheetless bed and fought over the purple hot water bottle whilst we admired Hugh Grant. And now that I have left her and the warmth of her house, I still feel the glow inside. It is not entirely dissimilar to the glow that one might feel after seeing a lover with strong arms, although it requires less of one’s imagination. My car (the penis car as I have come to think of it) is waiting for me where I left it and I get in, lock the doors and ponder the strange minty tobacco scent that clings belligerently to the upholstery. I look out past the windscreen wipers and streaked glass. There is a boy, well a man who has a boyish lean, standing in the telephone booth across the road and he is wearing a red scarf like my father’s. He is staring out through the glass that blurs everything. I stare. I wonder who I would talk to if I were to call someone so late at night from a phone booth. The possibilities are divided into good and bad, the pleasant and the unpleasant, the likely and the unlikely. I tear myself away from the possibilities of the romantic phone booth scene and make the car speak by turning the key. I drive. I think about a boy and an indeterminate space I share with him. I like to linger over thoughts like these and I recall how his face was so beautifully patterned by the shadows that the rain trickling over the windscreen cast. I stop at the stop sign in spite of there being no real need for me to do so and I am glad when the traffic lights I am approaching change from green to red, as it means that I will have more time to appreciate the raspy, rocky sounds that are coming out somewhat jarringly loud from the speakers. I sing in a shout and I let the man in the car next to me stare. I wonder why driving alone at night through golden dots of light makes me feel so pleasantly detached from life and myself. And I wonder why it is I think of myself as something separate to life. I check my rear-view mirror a lot. For some reason I love looking back at the car behind me. I think about winding the window down as I often do, but tonight I don’t need the wind licking and whipping my face to feel exhilarated.

he was a most peculiar man

Sat, 30 Apr 2005 14:37:01 GMT

I just watched a beautiful sad movie. Which I interrupted at one point to dance to three Ella songs with my eyes half shut and my voice at its absolute worst, and loudest. This for some reason made me feel a lot better. I had "happy" perspective, rather than "unhappy" perspective about my situation, and self. And was given my "happy" perspective able to come to the realisation that I am indeed not responsible for world hunger, and should not feel quite so terribly guilty for having so many privileges wasted on me. Then I concluded my movie and now I am in a Simon and Garfunkel mood and am rather annoyed that my Bridge Over Troubled Water album has vanished. In spite of my having acquired "happy" perspective this evening, I am still awfully sick. I have a revolting dripping nose, and am sneezing like a sick, sick bunny rabbit, and coughing in a most unbecomingly loud way complete with green phlegm and a sound that makes me certain that I am coughing up parts of my lungs. And I didn't go to work today, because I couldn't go to work today. But I need the money, and this makes me angry. Money is something I hate to have to think about.

And Ben Kweller is playing, which is nice. Everyone can do with that sort of youthful joy every now and then. I feel rather sorry for myself, seeing that I have no one to nurse and look after me. And I always tend to look after people far too well when they're sick, it's a rather enjoyable thing to do really. It makes me feel good to be a kind sweet nurse sometimes, to know that you’re making someone feel so loved. I think I should go to sleep now, the three Samahans I've had today have made me feel strange. I am wholly unsure of what's even in the things aside from coriander, and Jan's attempt to decipher the ingredients that were written in Sinhala was unsuccessful. I bet Ken the owner of Global Foods puts speed in the sachets and then sells them for a ridiculous 50 cents each. Why I do not know, but still. Daniel and I are not going to turn all super serious soul mateish because I have told him not to come to perth. He and I are not a possibility that I want to throw away just because I've come out of a shitty relationship and do not feel like having one ever again and am generally in a strange, volatile state of mind where him declaring undying love would definitely not help. Oh dear.

I know his reaction already. He will be characteristically ridiculously forgiving, and understanding. Bastard. Why is he so reasonable and tolerant of my unpredictability and cruelty? It makes me angry sometimes, and sometimes it makes me thankful. I read lots of Lawrence today. The old stuff. The stuff when he was a little more interested in the grace of things. Perhaps that is unfair, oh well. And now my favourite song from the reality bites soundtrack is playing and I'm bopping along as if am playing a piano instead of typing at a keyboard. I am very, very sick of Kasia's shitty relationship. I have counselled, cajoled, threatened, reasoned, appealed to her most superficial side, agreed, and now I am tired because it all gets me nowhere. It is draining and frustrating and i feel selfish for feeling this way. But it makes me angry and sad to see her in this state and allowing herself to be wasted and treated in such a way. She thinks i'm so terribly devoted, so does he, sometimes I think they're very very wrong about that.

I am going to lapse into another eyes half closed twirling to music state now.

Graham Barclay Oysters Pty Ltd

Wed, 27 Apr 2005 02:11:27 GMT

My assignment is scaring me. I am considering hiding under the arts lab desk in order to avoid it. I know nothing about torts, and duty of care is sketchy and the civil liabilitiy act is stupid because no one has really tested it, and i don't exactly know when to apply it. i am worried about justine and kasia. i am so so so annoyed at daniel and i want my silly red slip back. i do not want some random girl's velvet one though, i want mine. i do not want to do this assignment. i have 1574 words to go (i have not started) and the question is all strange. who cares about Blobbies? Who actually knows what the reasonable standard of care was? Accck. I dreamt last night that Daniel took Amanda Vanstone out on a date, and I saw them walking hand in hand along the terrace. So i got off my bus and approached them and Danny smiled at me and hugged me and then I took out a pin and pricked Amanda Vanstone with it and she deflated. And then Danny and I went to live in the Granny flat and we decorated our bedroom with my turquoise sari and put bells on each corner of our bed. Then he left to buy strawberries and Kasia came over and she and I started smoking in the courtyard and when Daniel got back he came and sat outside with us because the kitchen was on fire. And the kitchen was completely charred but the rest of the place was fine. And Danny and I lived there together for a lot more than our previous three days. The end.

the moon has lost her memory

Mon, 25 Apr 2005 03:00:25 GMT

I am warming my frosty, icy feet in a patch of sunlight, it's a nice feeling. this weekend was overall pleasantly eventful. i had many late nights and decided that another one would be too much. so i watched The Dreamers alone and fell asleep half way through i heart huckabees. i'm glad that i didn't go out, the prospect of queuing for a couple of hours to get into some painfully pretentious, hyper-snotty place was not one i was looking forward to. pete almost came round to snuggle with me whilst i watched dvds, but i decided against this too, although i could do with some good snuggling. B-I-N-G-O. I am for some reason irresistible to all men with concealed girlfriends, and irresistibly attracted to them as well. and then when i have been so unpleasantly surprised, i either write them off as fuckwits or declare them to be fuckwits but still stupidly pine for them. oh dear. Bingo is Mr. i am amazingly intelligent but don't seem to realise, let's have the most wonderful conversations and make out on the mouldy couch and oh did i mention i have wonderful politics and a beautiful voice and perfect angles in my face and curly silly sexy hair and oh and wait i forgot i had a girlfriend, but i like you so much more, you're more interesting and oh wait i like you but I will only will leave her if you commit to me seeing that i have such a great record with being trustworthy and you are so into relationships and commitment, oh wait that was mean don't call me a selfish, lying fuck oh and don’t tell me you don't want anything to with me even if I leave the girlfriend and maybe if i call you back later you'll change your mind, hmmm you called me mean things again i might go back to my girlfriend whom i like a bit and having boring sex with her. oh well. i am going to have a too long, too hot shower. and then i am going to eat a green, green sour apple and twirl around in the living room, all by myself. it'll be fun.
*it was actually OVERALL pleasantly eventful, i just chose to tell you about the unpleasantly eventful bit. but rest assured there were pleasantly eventful bits that featured green fairies and elbowing people and not getting home till quarter to five and then going to work at nine.

on the verge

Wed, 20 Apr 2005 11:02:12 GMT

I just read all these letters that friends send me last year or the year before that and now I feel sad and strange. I read all these things justine wrote me and all these things rohan and luke and danny wrote me and i miss them as they were then then. i feel like i somehow lack the sort of intimacy that i shared with people back then, and i love that sort of intimacy. I love have confidants like them and people who i feel vaguely get me. not to say that i don't have that now because i do. but i just feel like i don't have it in the same way, perhaps with the same intensity but no that's not right either. the past always seems so much better than the present, or so much worse, depending on my mindset. i love machiavelli but i don't love having to study him for my exam. i also want to night swimming like we used to. although walking home in wet inside out clothes was never that fun. i met this lovely girl that i know from the world history class i took last year and we talked and moaned about law. i said the wrong things, or almost did. i'm so blunt and unaware sometimes. i'm giving her my contract notes and i discovered that it is not just me who feels strangely about the kebab place at broadway fair. oh i feel so unsettled at the moment and i know on thursday night i am going to do something strange, something strange and silly and something strange and silly with people from my past no less. i have to study. i have to think of ways to make myself sound like i'm not talking about plato because i have to and much prefer machiavelli. i'm not a convincing actress. i don't get stage fright but i do seem wooden at times and i burst out laughing for no reason. oh oh oh. this is wholly non-sensical. just like me at the moment and my chain smoking red bull ways. just like me and the the way i feel about too too many people. apparently, it's strange to like your men a few hundred years dead. i have to stop behaving like this, and start appearing together once more. but i don't really have a reason to and that is wonderful and exciting and scary and seductive and oh i just might do what i always thought i should.....

Mon, 18 Apr 2005 16:17:06 GMT

Daniel loves pen and paper, so I typed it up. I feel ashamed and undeserving.

Darling, dearest Anouska,
Your e-mail surprised me. I always thought that I was the one that was tragically in love with you. I don’t know what to say to any of that. I don’t know what you’d even want me to say, and I’d like to think I usually can work out what you’d like me to say. You and I, as more than the strange friends that we are is something I have thought about – a lot. I don’t know anymore. Perhaps that one perfect fuck is what we need, I don’t know though. You expect answers from me, and I don’t have any. I still want to try, I think. Just come to me, when you’re ready and you feel like you are whoever it was you were that day. I hate that I’m here and you’re back there.
I love you, just as tragically as always.
Daniel
PS Please stop saying that. It hurts my delicate ears.

the figure in the dark dark courtyard

Sat, 16 Apr 2005 18:13:20 GMT

That was really strange. There I was happily typing something wholly idiotic and then I glanced at my reflection in the big study window and there was someone in my courtyard. Thankfully before I allowed myself to do my routine jump up flick all the lights on and shout I recognised the jacketed black haired creature to be justin. Now given my relatively drunk state his materialising in my courtyard in the mode of the old days (as in the old days before he went crazy and thought he liked me) seemed perfectly natural although some what suprising but pleasant occurrence and so I went outside and sat in the garden of eden with him and talked about old things and lawrence (who justin has taken an interest in) and my compartment theory before he decided it was too late and that i should sleep in order to be myer's miss sunshine tomorrow and hopped over the fence no doubt doing much damage to my mother's beloved garden of eden.
Now whilst I appreciate Justin's appearance in my dark dark courtyard because
1. I got to ramble happily and thus sober up
2. I got to think about the changes that have taken places since he and I were friends
3. It was vaguely like the night we smashed coffee mugs
4. He understood my rabbit nose feelings
5. He showed me the scar i gave him so so very long ago
6. I was able to thank him properly for what he did for me
7. I felt a lot less cruel than normal
I am concerned because
1. It is typically not normal for one to materialise in someone's courtyard when you haven't seen each other for almost two years except for when we bumped into each other in the city briefly on thursday
2. Justin being Justin will make this a habit and will invariably wake my parents next time and i will have to admit to them that i am a indeed the whore of babylon who frequently entertains boys in the courtyard under the ridiculous umbrella
3. Justin will see my allowing him to visit me at odd hours as an invitation to resume an intense friendship which could become ridiculously unhealthy (as in the past)
4. If he continues to frequent my courtyard and tap on my window my sleep (eight hours sleep with half an hour of doona snuggling on either side) will be terribly interrupted
5. Most importantly, all the jumping over fences and trudging through in a justin like fashion will irreparably damage my mother's sacred and beloved garden of eden

a nine minute affair

Sat, 16 Apr 2005 16:05:55 GMT

Memory, everything turns on that. I remember being 15 and drinking. Drinking more than seven shots of cheap abrasive bourbon on the rocks in forty minutes. I remember watching them slow dancing and laughing and being envious and awkward and wanting to bask in the attention instead. I don’t remember being carried to bed by her brother, or having him change me out of my clothes and trying to do up the buttons of my chinese pyjamas which my aunt who was yet to be revealed as selfish and cruel had given to me. I don’t remember vomiting in my own hair or letting my earrings fall swiftly into someone else’s slightly stained toilet bowl. That night only happened during the parts that I remember. The lost bits – the parts that were stolen by intense intoxication never really happened, they cannot be factored into my reality. If I can’t remember it, then it never really happened; if it didn’t remain in my head then it was never there.

All of them are the same.They kiss the same kiss, that press soft pillows of control on me seductively, that slip inside me lingering flutters. It is like eating powdery butterflies that I used to keep inside a jam jar covered with blue net until the fluttering spluttered out.

The music he sent me is liquid sex. It slips over me through to my bones with white coolness. It is silvery understanding of forgotten garish beaches where I left the too big, too pink and too romantic ice-cream that he bought me to melt. It is when I felt I had something soulful and jarring to scream beautifully to the world. It is when I still thought I was capable of giving something beautiful, from some place within me that was meaningful. Now giving seems deliberate and driven by ego. It is like arranging my body and face in the morning with make-up and clothes – it’s that obvious and superficial and about me. Now I realise that it is all about me. Even when I try for it to not be. Most of all then actually. Giving should not be thought about, or talked about, it should be done. Ideally it shouldn’t even be remembered. It shouldn’t be some patchwork cloak but it is. And I never feel right. I wish I gave right. I wish I knew if it was possible to give without taking more away.

I ache for things to happen that I have already created in my secret turquoise fields with old hand-me-down feelings and characters collaged with lovers and mothers and enemies and ex-friends and old friends. I want so much for things that I have created with silvery lines of blue to happen. But it is for the past perfectly arranged and sculpted and airbrushed that I long. I let myself live in a perfectly melodic chamber of echoes.

I feel that I ought to buy a kitten, a black and white kitten with silky downy fur and a warm swollen bell that will warm my feet when they’re cold and alone at the end of my bed. Something to cradle and comfort and be beautiful and in control to, like the lover and mother I sometimes want to be. Something to remind me of touch, so that I don’t fuck someone out of curiosity. So that I don’t squander a year’s worth of delicious buttery sexual tension on a dark blue futon that leads me to nowhere and ‘it’s not personal’ and wondering how I went from being refreshingly intelligent in a sea of retards and cat like and cute with eyes that matched my bracelet to something that has to be got rid of, whatever the reason was. Something to be there with me when I sleep so that I don’t get lost in dreams of just realising that I’m five months pregnant to someone I can’t remember sleeping with, whom I suspect I slept with out of sheer mistake and accident.

Why does chewing on a sour apple’s skin remind me of him? Why does the sensation of the wind licking the back of my neck on the terrace when my bus is late make me think of the perfect angles in his face? Why do I think that finally having him would be the only way to get over him, as if he were one of the speed bumps in the scary flats I had to live in? Why do I doubt my little courage so much? Why do I want people I don’t even like to fall in love with me? Is it because I know that loving me would invariably cause them pain? Why do I let myself be bought expensive breakfasts by moderately attractive charming older men, who know nothing of me and sometimes seem to want to, and who have me pinned as an exotic creature fit for private collection, whose price could dive or soar dazzlingly at any moment? Why do I feel like alone is a pleasant, mild hallucinogen?

True serenity, seems to evade me, even when I’m braless on my turquoise and pink floral bedspread in an old blue jumper that declares me at sixteen to be not as intelligent as him, but definitely more world weary. The lanterns that I attached to my air-conditioner vent so long ago, seem tired and battered, the vibrancy of the gesture now gone.

The piece of an artistic plant that I severed on the morning of the day that I was secretive has prospered. It has not bent towards my gold carpet and made the water in its vase putrid with decay. It has not lost its paper fan like unexpected grace. It has twisted itself like the curves that characterise my hips, which I sometimes hate. It has tortured itself to sap the light that pierces through the chinks in my formidable cedar blinds. It has outshone the brazen bare legs of the chest that it rests on. It has more to teach me than the shell that yet another ‘he’ bought me in the markets and scratched ‘I love you always, my ocean girl’ in his curly, feathery writing. How he declares and demands ownership of my ‘me’, like they all did. What I want is one that doesn’t try to achieve possession, that doesn’t need and that wants in a way that doesn’t translate into naked, nervous, narcissistic need. Someone that doesn’t lie on my bed like a mangy cat when I want to be alone.

What I want is pungent blades of grass scattered through my hair like a child who has sillily, giddily rolled down hills. What I want is marshmallow icing in the corners of my smile. What I want is eyes sore from too strong chlorine. What I want is pale, purple-blue skin from thick greasy sun cream. What I want is to be adored and made chicken schnitzels to be consumed on a pine table, next to my blonde friend and his beautiful mother and her overprotective love for us both - me her child almost as much as he is. What I want is a childhood that is not cast with dark shadows and afternoons in strangers’ blossoming orchards.

---

I got choked by flowers, they strangled me like a kind boy’s hands around my neck when he was immersed in a drug-induced dream. They were the tulips from a poem about a hospital visit. They were red tulips, the same red of my favourite red felt-tipped pen that I used to write the occasional shag list with in my old notebook, and that used to be the instrument that singed the numbers of strangers into the back of my strange, spidery hands.

I answered the door tonight with a giant knife stained and streaked with tomato blood and a voice that cracked.
I feel like drinking a respectable warm beverage laced with something illicit, my father used to do that. I don’t want to be like him.
I love Kailua at night when I’m reading, especially in my green rainbow tinted martini glasses that I can sip from and feel falsely sophisticated and attractive in a non-little girl way. I like to wear ribbons in my dark hair that has grown long and split at the ends. Red when I want to feel crafty in a sexy way and blue when I want calm beauty about me. But why choose something so childish and coy and so utterly concerned with surface to express this? Why not act it or feel it or be it? Why try to appear it through contradictory little girl things? Why can’t I get over being a child who wore grown up experience too well? Why do I have to ask questions which open doors, that lead me to the door I’ve promised to never open lest I find myself murdered in multiples and dressed in scarlet?

as seductive as

Thu, 14 Apr 2005 07:44:40 GMT

Waiting. I seem to do a lot of that. Today I have:
- had a cup of strong milky tea with three sugars
- wandered aimlessly in the city looking at green earrings for kathy
- bumped into an old friend/ex/saviour and consumed a piece of kahlua fudge and a pina colada with him
- decided to leave too much up to chance and not exchange numbers with my rediscovered, whatever, despite him being so sunny and wonderful like he used to be, before everything. i left him quickly, like always.
- resumed my wandering and purchased some demure earrings for kathy
- checked my roster at work and talked to kristy for half an hour and enjoyed her silly giggles
- bought a ice coffee with an inordinate amount of cream on top of it and greedily consumed it whilst looking at an attractive guitarist
- caught a bus driven by a grumpy driver who didn't smile back and thus arrived at uni
- fucked around in the arts lab for an hour and a half until kasia arrived and started talking too loudly
- purchased some cigarettes which were exactly the same as the ones i threw out on tuesday, and smoked four of them with kasia
- drank an ice coffee and ate soggy vinegary chips
- cackled like a superficial hyena with kasia and felt guilty for fucking no less than two men around both of which have told me that they like being fucked around in such a way because it's me (one even said so explicitly)
- walked kasia to her tute
- searched for my lighter in my chaotic elephant bag, and failed to find the crappy purple creature
- came back to the arts lab to rescue my gil scott-heron cd from the computer that i left it in

---

All in all it's been a rather pointless day. But at least I'm in a terrific, if somewhat sweetly melancholy mood, which contrasts greatly with the generally fucked off vibe that characterised me yesterday. i feel like going out or talking erraticly or doing something vaguely stimulating and socially. i also want to give kathy her earrings and talk to justine. Ideally Daniel will materialise soon and he and i will talk and talk and talk and then something decent and acceptable and good would happen. Hmmmm i love fucking gil scott-heron, one of my brother's only decent musical discoveries. i have to work next week, hard. this seems unlikely, but also necessary. i feel like going skinny dipping or at least doing something naked but not overtly sexual. kasia is driving me home soon, so i have a good twenty minutes of being marinated in cigarette smoke to look forward to.

---

i have to leave now. but that's like everything really. i always have to leave, usually i do so quickly, cruelly and without a decent explanation.

---

"I think I'll call it morning..." Gil Scott-Heron