It's over when the fat chick wins.

Dream

Last night I dreamt that my brother had come out.

I asked him "Are you still going to have your wedding?"

"Yes!" He replied "I lurrve weddings."

Funny to me.

Philosophy

I'm hungry for some intellectual stimulation. So, tommorow I shall go to the uni library and borrow some Kant, Hume and Wittgenstien. Overly optimistic, yes.

Malls

I like malls. I think my admission excludes me from any accusation of blind consumerism. When I was in Melbourne (nothing in Hobart can really be classified as a Mall) I developed this need to be fed with a bombardment (excuse the mixed metaphor) of product smells, bright colours and trashy music. It was so relaxing to briefly switch off the critical faculties, sheltered from the oppressive heat outdoors and drag my thonged feet around the Temple of Consumption. I suppose it was so relaxing because there were no demands placed on me bar the coercion of sales assistants, which is no great force given the proliferation of shops. I also like malls because you can shop for clothes...

Clothes

At the moment, I like clothes shopping. Why? You enter into a flash, clean, bright room full of catagorized virgin garments. They smell good. There is so much choice (well, not really, that's part of the pain of shopping). In places like Valley Girl the asthetic is good because all garments are colour coded and ordered. It's just so visually satisfying. But why are clothes themselves good? Other than the fact that God made them, they transport you into slice of fantasy or alterego. Clothes are, afterall, transformation. Escapism, even to the tiniest degree.