Coffin

Something I value about jobs is finding the really cool aspects and then sit outside of yourself and smile. Painting a base of a wall in one of the galleries for King Tut and having a 3500 year old golden coffin sitting there near me. Noone else is inside the galleries and it is late at night. My music playing from another of the rooms, educating the artifacts on music from 2011. Something about it, was just simply, simple.

I had a dinner party last night. Vegetarian style, and I so reminded myself of my mother. I do not know how that happened, but just how she loved to cook and host, I like doing the same. Though not the same kinds of food, my own twist. I like cooking but do not like those cooking shows and reality comps like Masterchef. It makes it so common and addictive and generic. Just like when you fight with window blinds and you pull the rope cord and the stupid thing does not catch or it lopsides and not straight across. And you end up communicating way too heavily with strips of metal and rope as to why it is not cooperating with your desire for less or more light.

Had my mate Dave here the past few days and he inspired me to go back to the ACMI (Some letters representing the museum of the moving image I think) and so I took another friend Bernard and his sister there. There is this pretty cool (yes Dave, pretty cool) wheel that moves around and around and then the lights start flashing and it comes to life. This is kind of stupid to explain in writing as I bet you have no idea what I am saying.. youtubing now… There, just watch.

And so, was showing them and then they walked out half way. Rude. Only to discover his sister is epileptic. Oh. So just check beforehand next time. Epileptic warnings are there for a reason.

Off to Sydney in a few days. My thoughts currently are mainly drained at trying to organise to hang with people. It is not an easy task. Funny how visits to see friends/family is not a holiday. Though hey, if my chicken Denise was still alive, I would be guaranteed to be chilled. Maybe I will find her grave. Just as much talking would go on, pre or post her death. RIP once again Denise.

I found this photo on my camera, taken the day I was about to move to Melbourne. I put it as my facebook profile. Because I was not smiling people told me it was a bad photo. Does a photo of a face have to be smiling to be a good one? I just liked the rawness, but trying not to be up myself with it. We attempt this all the time and fail yeah?

NYC is my home. Born in Sydney and raised by the sea, I love the world and any opportunity to be myself. I like saying the word puddle.

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