Here’s something I didn’t mention: while in Vancouver I kept a separate account for all the incoherent drunken twittertexts I didn’t want to spam all my Sydney friends with—but considering the amount of junk that still made its way into my feed, I kind of wonder why I bothered.
Anyway today has been a tremendous day for several reasons, one of them being the decision to be more open and creative and superfocussed on writing again—man I miss writing, could you tell how much I missed it? HEAPS. Check that out right there, that’s the casual reintegration of Australian slang into my vernacular riding hard on the heels of Canadian Jess’ arrival in town (watch my accent slide all over the place again)
SO to demonstrate said honesty, here are the last ten secret tweets I sent to myself. They’re pretty—they’re a pretty good indicator of my mental state while I was away. Probably not healthy, definitely not sustainable, but definitely an interesting point of my life.
—
Erratic sleep patterns, smoking bowls, 3am scrapbooking. ready for anything 7:06 AM May 28th
Heaps bummed about losing the letter i wrote claire 4:12 AM May 28th
Oh god. srsly considering uming w mz qmpomies ex. oh dear 4:23 PM May 23rd
2nd party in a row. jimbo planted the d idea in my head. tempted. 3:59 PM May 23rd
Allan: 2 addicts doing the crackwalk over a 2ltr bottle of orange crush. behind a church and convenience store 6:07 AM May 22nd
Could do with a stoop to sit on and take in the sunset 12:43 PM May 21st
Exit thru the gift shop. wow what a trainwreck of a character 11:38 AM May 21st
Just got complimented on my hair by a (prostitute?) in the street. swaying as she asks ‘200?’ no 60. either way great hair etc 3:22 PM May 13th
Know you’re in vancouver when it’s raining and the city swarms with skater dudes smoking 8:19 AM Apr 21st
That definitely felt like some sleazy groping of my ass. no wonder i feel infuriated 10:55 AM Apr 16th
—
Kind of glad I didn’t “uming w mz qmpomies ex” (as far as I can tell/remember)
The rest of the tweets consist of garbled gig commentary, quotes lifted from street architecture, really inappropriate remarks not for public consumption, ‘do you remember you fell into that painting’ (I do now) and the startling realisation that even when I talk to myself I never tell the entire truth. There’s layers and layers of inference I can’t stop myself from making, whether sober or profoundly unsober, and it’s something I’ll probably continue to do in spite of my renewed interest in the truth (for a given value of truth).
Anyway the timestamps suggest this was an interesting two-month period to be documenting. I wish there were a way I could print out all my Canadian tweets and fold them into a little pocketbook. Then I’d carry it around everywhere with me and when I feel like I’m turning into a boring person I can open it to a random page and laugh at the girl I was then and all the antics I committed and remember that it was good and it was bad and I’ll be glad there’s still time to change into the person I want to become.
