Muscular Dystrophy Association of New Zealand And I don't feel so bad about calling you at dinnertime, although I don't exactly feel like the salt of the earth, either.


I've been slogging away again at the job-hunting process. Degrading and depressing, having my CV returned, rejected out-of-hand. Worst are the types who never bother to reply. I'm pretty certain there's a Circle of Hell reserved for those people, somewhere close to the centre. T would know.
I can always find consolation in small ways, though, it's an ill wind, etcetera. If I want to jazz up the side-table I can just bring out casual evidence of my Regular Correspondence with the Ministry of Internal Affairs.

The key to job-hunting is to get jobs I can put a Catch sort of spin on. For example, when I go tele-marketing tomorrow night, I am spending a few hours raising funds for charity. If I get the job in Newtown I will be working with the SPCA. Of course, the best spin is an airy laugh and: "Work? D'you mean a job .... oh, no, I don't work! But it's a bit harder to pull off when you are Reduced to Rags, as I am currently.


Why do I use "hmm" so much? It's weak, weak.

Hello Big Sister. I told him there would be consequences of linking from holloway.


Hmm. I can't work out why this hasn't been updating. This is a test post, I will use it to say: today it is raining, and I am going to take some blankets to the SPCA.


Just posted this link to metafilter:
A collection of (mainly) postcard images of theatres around the world. Hmm. I wonder if I can find some of the Embassy? In other news, it is half past ten and I am still in my pa ja ma s. DIS-gusting.


Valium... Which wasn't a reference to last time I went to church (albeit the wrong one) on Christmas Eve (after clubbing, of course) and C drove her car into the side wall. That really was a different time. What happened to my life?

Hello Darlings, it has been a long time. Quick update: I am now a redhead, with an impish short hairdo, complete with one-inch, straight-cut fringe. Yes, I am pretty in pink.

Still no job at the time of writing, but I am ever hopeful, despite last week's five rejections.

We went to the Indian New Year's festival last weekend, and I made a pig of myself, on sweets.

What else? I am just stumbling along, really, until The Two Towers is released.

Which reminds me! It looks as though I may be 'Doing' Christmas this year. M thinks that now we have been joined at the hip for three years now (October 16th) it may be time for respective Ancestors to meet. Help. Valium, please. I may start attending Church now, so as to have a legitimate reason to bundle everyone off there during the period. "How about a few hours not sitting about and talking to each other?


Hang on a tick... *Primal Scream*.....that's better.

I have just been to a job agency to be tested. Least said the better.

It seems there are no tickets left for the Beijing Festival events, (typically last-minute me only checked today), so I am going to have to find other things to do. If the quality of the other stuff is like the "Exhibition" I dropped in on this afternoon ... blown up postcards....then I am not missing much. Also looked in on the NZ Photographers abroad gig. Hrm. Hmmm. I have no comments to make.

Dragged our bones to see Top Hat, (and it was a good time), but yesterday was too lazy to get to the NZ Photographers Exhibit. Today I have to leave the house for this interview, so I will check it out after.

Oh Hell, I just realised that Aurora Terrace is Miles away. Crud.


Scratched the Poetry Reading in favour of inviting people over. It was their idea that we all get together this weekend. They didn't show. No explanation. We've spent all day kicking about the house with the front door open, stocked up on chocolate biscuits and lashings of Ginger Beer, and I'll be as uncharitable as I like. But it was nice to have a day at home with BF and Cats, lazing on the deck in the sun.

Word has arrived from A, who arrived in Canada yesterday-the day before-I can't work these things out. She was detained while changing planes in Hawaii, for the sin of having visited Egypt in the past. Creepy.

My take on 'the war on terror"... since WWII all us children of the allied forces have been raised on "they died to protect our freedoms". Now the line is "give up your freedoms to protect you from dying". Or similiar. No Thanks, matey. Nuh huh.

I've never collected stamps, or axe-heads or butterflies or such, but there's just something so appealing about stockpiling tinned goods.


No bloody personality left, that is my problem. Don't say you haven't noticed. Time for ActionTM! Right, here I go, Paving the road to hell.....

Sunday 15 September, Pablo Neruda Reading, Te Papa, 1pm
Monday 16, Top Hat Screening, Rialto, 6:15pm
Tuesday 17, New Zealand Photographers Abroad, City Gallery,
Wednesday 18, Beijing Photo Exhibition, FletcherChallenge Foyer, 9am-5pm
Thursday 19, Paradisos & The Curious Mr Wright, National Library of New Zealand
Thursday 19, Una Noche De Tango, Latinos Tapas Bar, 118 Tory St, 7.30-9.30pm
Friday 20, Beijing Arts and Crafts Market, Civic Square 10am-3pm
Saturday 21, Free latin Dance Clases, Viva Latina Dance Studio, 8 Fifeshire Ave, 11am-3pm.
Saturday 21, Opera Make-up Demonstration, Illiot Centre, 5-6pm
Saturday 21, Beijing Opera, MFC auditorium, 7-11pm
NB Ice Rink Opens.Chaffers park, 9:00am-5:00pm and 5:30pm-10:30pm Until October 6.
Sunday 22, Beijing Rhythms: Traditional and Modern Folk Music, MFC auditorium, 5-6:15pm
Sunday 22, Beijing Family Showcase- acrobats, dance, music and song, 7-9pm.
Monday 23, Royal New Zealand Ballet Open Day, St James, 10am
Tuesday 24, Xiamen calligraphy & photo exhibition, FC Foyer, 9am-5pm
Thursday 26, Xiamen cooking demonstrations, Civic Square (West Court if wet), 12-2pm.
Friday 27, Little Egrets -folk dancing & acrobats, MFC Auditorium, 5-7pm.
Sunday 29, Tulip Sunday, Botanic Gardens, Music from 11am-3pm.

All free, (except the ice rink) all within wallking distance, and all very personality-refreshing. Especially the Neruda reading, where I am hoping there will be some commies to scrap with. Lets see how many I can wriggle out of.


In what passes for Economy in this household M and I occasionally decide to buy a DVD instead of catching a movie out. (Of course, we always end up buying at least two).
Yesterday's addition to our classic library was .....Krull. Ah, what a Masterpiece of Cinema. The Quicksand! The Giant Spider! The Flammable horses...


Phoo, indeed!
Well, my six weeks of employment are up, and it was all good fun, and now I am itching to do something else.

Bestest friend and I have rediscovered our taste for drinking, it seems, and have found a gem of a bar here in wellington, (not telling), now all we need is an audience, and we will be all set to resume the glamorous life.

Speaking of glamour, I have just been back to the plastic surgeon's for my three months after pics. Wow, what a difference, I will post before and afters when I am sent them. The biggest change is in my skin, my skin, at the time of my first appointment, my chest was one red blotch, a solid mass of sore scaly nastiness. Now, hardly a dot. I can't believe I was living like that. I can't believe it.

Here's an article I just adore - The hidden delight of psoriasis.
Includes the best quotation ever, from a book The significance and management of psoriasis by one JT Ingram:

"To leave a trail of silver scale about the house and blood-stains on the sheets and to fear the public gaze - this is a cruel fate."


I have worked one week. Not bad at all. It really is nice not to have so much free time, hanging heavy on me.

I am back onto my reading list, having finally recovered from the bloody awful Moby Dick. So this evening I read The Old Man and the Sea, not recommended.


All the ISKCON publications I have read are very fond of the saying "If one offers Me with love and devotion a leaf, a flower, fruit, or water, I will accept it".

Hmm. The Krishna I know wouldn't have left out "or sweets, if anyone wants to offer Me something I wouldn't say no to some burfi".

Aw, heck, I shouldn't mess with this stuff. I don't mean to be offensive.

Hate/pitymail to: tom_tom_drum@yahoo.co.uk


Being unemployed means you can sit about the house for three days waiting for a telephone call. Your time is that worthless, and nothing you want to do is more important.
I can't wait to get back to some sort of schedule that isn't based around Dragonball-Z.

I hate this song. It is like the sound of a truck backing up. With my head under the wheels. It is the sword above, the gods tempted, the godawful reminder of the Worst that can happen.


What's the best thing about the new TV and DVD player M bought?
The box big enough for me to sit in. Ah, bliss.
When the cats aren't using it as a death-match ring.


Nothing to write about, so I'll write about the weather.
We were supposed to be hit by a storm/s coming down from the North, but no sign of it yet. A lady has been swept away from a caravan park by a flood in the coromandel. How sad. It's raining here. "Southerly 50 km/h easing." So they say.

The first thing I really took in about Wellington was that word Southerly. You walk out of a restaurant or an afternoon screening, and the wind is coming from a different direction and it's cooold. The wind takes all the fun out of walking and the rain is slanting directly into all the bus-shelters so you take a taxi home and the driver tells you- it's the southerly.

Talk from home of the powercut reminds me we have no handy supplies in this house. Strange for me to have no candles, no kerosene for torches, no cigarettes, no razor-blades, no black pants and no duct-tape.



I have a job, starting soon, that doesn't involve dealing with people, just numbers. Well, that's out of the way, now for World Domination, was it? No, just finishing that booklist.

Which brings me to Moby Dick. Terrible, terrible book. Badly written. Obvious. Bad. Bad. Bad. I would like to burn this copy only it belongs to the library. I wonder if they know how bad it is? I refuse to lose any more nights sleep over it. I will not finish it. I will NOT.

We could hear a morepork last night up on the hill. It was like being ten again on summer holiday by the sea. When I feel sleepy and Matthew has his feet under mine, it's that feeling of standing on the disappearing sand as a wave draws back.


hack, hack, huuuurk.
I have a filthy head-cold. But I never get sick! Combination of the Reading Cinema and the bl***dy Southerly.

Saw Spiderman on Friday night and it was good. Unfortunate side effect, similiar to the Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon syndrome. Walking just blows, frankly.
On Saturday night we saw Resident Evil. Too hard for me too watch, just too many Boo! moments.

Speaking of scary, today I unscrewed the 'S' bend under the bathroom sink. I hate renting houses.

I hope Moby Dick hasn't put me off reading forever.


One battle over today, with the cheque for $410 arriving, and another begins, it seems.

No, I'm not talking about the bulge. This time, it's 'la boche' again.

Here's my email address for purposes of this log.
I hate 'mailto' s. I always want to use my web-mail, or some default mail program pops up that I wouldn't be caught dead using. (Not my system, this one). Who can't copy and paste?
So the feeling of the season is that Catch needs to shed a few ounces.
There are only two ways I know to lose weight, the first is to get a little exercise and scrupulously record what you consume.
The second way is to be Eighteen, work double shifts while pursuing a doomed romance, and live exclusively on Coca Cola and cigarettes.

The latter left me the skinniest I have ever been, introducing me to my ribcage, which I had never seen before, and some kind of lung infection. My periods stopped, I coughed up blood, it hurt to breathe. And I was having a whale of a time.
I remember moving back home after that episode and eating three meals at a sitting, day after day.

I believe I'll go for the first option this time. This doesn't mean that this journal will henceforth be filled with: "one piece wheaten toast, milk coffee, two pizzas, low-fat yoghurt, FRIDAY." (Although that would be arguably more entertaining than this stuff.) No, I have a nice wee notebook (graph paper, not ruled, I love graph paper) for all that.
The idea is, that having publicly proclaimed I will lose 8 Kilos I will stick to it.
Is this public? I mean, who could possibly be reading this?


Very good to hear from wee hairy twitching man presumed Lost At Sea.

You can't be too careful around rodents. I'll never forget how my two-week stay in London was ruined by that squirrel attack. Blood! Blood! Who''d a' thought my thumb had so much blood in it?

Did I mention that I have finished my Buck version of the Mahabharata? I shall now essay Moby Dick.

Today is the day I Apply For Jobs. What a filthy process.


Oh bizarre.
Another test from Philosophersnet.com. I was surprised how well I had done on the Battleground God one.
Beat this:

No tensions!

354 of the 7269 people who have completed this activity also have no tensions in their belief system.

There are a number of possible explanations for the fact that you have no tensions in your beliefs:

1. You have a very consistent set of beliefs;
2. You have very few beliefs - and consequently answered none or only a few of the questions!
3. You've done this test before!

I always try to answer as God.
Now there's a case for analysing in itself.
Well the cup size was no surprise
but the distance around was a wake-up call
I'd better dig out my old swim-togs
If I can still fit them at all.

As expected, at Kircaldies, nice ladies, good quality bra, fine fit, I still came out feeling like a.. how do I feel? Like a slightly retarded heffalump who has recently been eating something messily, like baked beans.

My God! What a bloody poor self-image. I had better starve myself a few weeks, feel better.

I meant to add, I LOVE YOU MATTHEW.
Don't get me wrong, I'm hardly prudish. I have had to submit to a great deal of medical scrutiny. There's just something creepy about women. Women who want to 'do' your hair, women who want to show you their full wax, women who make a living measuring and dressing up other women's breasts.

And no, I'm definitely not homophobic, as some could tell.

It's well time to go and get a bra fitting for these brand new breasts. I've always been uncomfortable with this kind of girly situation. Kircaldie's seems like a safe bet.

I will report on trauma level later.


I can recommend Theo's Greek Taverna.
I feel it would almost be worth my getting a job so we can eat there more often.
Of course, last night being in the nature of a celebration, we blew the usual budget a little.


Our moral victory of yesterday turns out to be a legal victory today.

Here's what the Order of Tenancy Tribunal says. I don't believe names are necessary:

The tribunal hereby orders:

Bond Processing Centre to pay the bond of $410.00 to (Catch) and (Catch's Bestest Friend) immediately.

Section 127(4)(a)

This was a fixed term tenancy expiring on 18 January 2002. Prior to that date there was some discussion about the tenancy continuing but it was not formalised. In early March 2002 the applicant's partner Mr. (G) visited the tenants and told them that the tenancy was in a legal limbo period during which they could be given 24 hours' notice. The property was on the market at this time.
The following day the tenants received an email which stated "As the tenancy period is finished, I am putting the rent up to $225.00 per week". As a result of these communications and others of a similiar nature the tenants felt very insecure and decided to look for other accommodation. They then gave one week's notice.
I find in all the circumstances no new tenancy agreement was concluded and therefore three weeks' notice was not required.

And I truly hope that that's an end to that.


Wait... that last wasn't very clear, it sounded a bit prattish even. What I mean is, I am waiting now for someone else to make a call, and whether they judge rightly or wrongly isn't so important. Sometimes cheats prosper, sometimes bad people win. What matters is that we came through the whole affair decently and in good faith and behaved sportingly throughout.

By believing that what goes around comes around, I don't have to take on the stress of wishing revenge on someone, or the need to see them get their "just deserts".

When I was not so very much younger I believed that if I were righteous, the gods (unspecified) would surely strike down my enemies. Now I tend to think in terms of eventual karma. I am more content with moral victories, and the rewards of knowing you've played the game in a sporting fashion. (Like today) Now I only need to learn not to feel pleasure in an opponent's defeat, and I think that is as well-rounded 'spiritually' as I need to get.

Like I always say, and can't remember where I ripped it off, I have no Morals, but I do have Standards.


Old Goriot has been dust for days! I love books that re-inforce my own ideas about the world, this one: that the lack of Money is the root of all evil, basically.

Not on my official list, but Lord I couldn't help myself, I also recently finished The Virginian by Owen Wister. Written in 1902, it is a classic cheesy western. It has Everything! Indians, Tenderfoots, Rustlers, Cattle Kings, Rattle Snakes, Gun battles, Runaway Vehicles, and of course, a Young and Feisty Schoolmarm. I highly recommend it, though I oughtn't. Of course, this is the book that the TV show The Virginian was based on.

Also put away over the course of the last couple of days; Great Expectations. Well, it's very Dickens. It has been adapted so many times that I wasn't sure if I had read it. But I hadn't. So I did. Now it's done.

The last expedition to the library also netted Moby Dick and a version of the Mahabharata 'retold' by one William Buck.

Note that I am not attempting an alphabetical methodology, in fact, I forgot my list at the library and had to srape together what fragments I could recall.


So far I've dutifully trotted along to the library and consumed: Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, (yes, it's all very sad, we get it) and The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner. (I wanted to smack that Gerald as soon as he appeared). I'm enjoying Old Goriot at the moment, but my brain appears to have shut down and only wants to play Shisen-Sho and watch Dragonball-Z today.
Inspired by this metafilter posting I've started a concentrated effort to read more.
According to the Guardian these are "the 100 best works of fiction ... as determined from a vote by 100 noted writers from 54 countries" and I was horrified, not so much by how few of these I had read, but by how many I had picked up and read half of, or a condensed version of, or the "draft" of (for example, reading Jean Santeuil but never Remembrance).
I figured this list was as good a place to start as any.
Chinua Achebe Things Fall Apart
Hans Christian Andersen Fairy Tales and Stories
Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice
Honore de Balzac Old Goriot
Samuel Beckett Trilogy: Molloy, Malone Dies, The Unnamable
Giovanni Boccaccio Decameron
Jorge Luis Borges Collected Fictions
Emily Bronte Wuthering Heights
Albert Camus The Stranger
Paul Celan Poems.
Louis-Ferdinand Celine Journey to the End of the Night
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra Don Quixote
Geoffrey Chaucer Canterbury Tales
Joseph Conrad Nostromo
Dante Alighieri The Divine Comedy
Charles Dickens Great Expectations
Denis Diderot Jacques the Fatalist and His Master
Alfred Doblin Berlin Alexanderplatz
Fyodor M Dostoyevsky Crime and Punishment; The Idiot; The Possessed; The Brothers Karamazov
George Eliot Middlemarch
Ralph Ellison Invisible Man
Euripides Medea
William Faulkner Absalom, Absalom; The Sound and the Fury
Gustave Flaubert Madame Bovary; A Sentimental Education
Federico Garcia Lorca Gypsy Ballads
Gabriel Garcia Marquez One Hundred Years of Solitude; Love in the Time of Cholera
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Faust
Nikolai Gogol Dead Souls
Gunter Grass The Tin Drum
Joao Guimaraes Rosa The Devil to Pay in the Backlands
Knut Hamsun Hunger
Ernest Hemingway The Old Man and the Sea
Homer The Iliad and The Odyssey
Henrik Ibsen A Doll's House
The Book of Job
James Joyce Ulysses
Franz Kafka The Complete Stories; The Trial; The Castle Bohemia
Kalidasa The Recognition of Sakuntala
Yasunari Kawabata The Sound of the Mountain
Nikos Kazantzakis Zorba the Greek
DH Lawrence Sons and Lovers
Halldor K Laxness Independent People
Giacomo Leopardi Complete Poems
Doris Lessing The Golden Notebook
Astrid Lindgren Pippi Longstocking
Lu Xun Diary of a Madman and Other Stories
Naguib Mahfouz Children of Gebelawi
Thomas Mann Buddenbrook; The Magic Mountain
Herman Melville Moby Dick
Michel de Montaigne Essays
Elsa Morante History
Toni Morrison Beloved
Shikibu Murasaki The Tale of Genji Genji
Robert Musil The Man Without Qualities
Vladimir Nabokov Lolita
Njaals Saga
George Orwell 1984
Ovid Metamorphoses
Fernando Pessoa The Book of Disquiet
Edgar Allan Poe The Complete Tales
Marcel Proust Remembrance of Things Past
Francois Rabelais Gargantua and Pantagruel
Juan Rulfo Pedro Paramo
Jalal ad-din Rumi Mathnawi
Salman Rushdie Midnight's Children
Sheikh Musharrif ud-din Sadi The Orchard
Tayeb Salih Season of Migration to the North
Jose Saramago Blindness
William Shakespeare Hamlet; King Lear; Othello
Sophocles Oedipus the King
Stendhal The Red and the Black
Laurence Sterne The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy
Italo Svevo Confessions of Zeno
Jonathan Swift Gulliver's Travels
Leo Tolstoy War and Peace; Anna Karenina; The Death of Ivan Ilyich and Other Stories
Anton P Chekhov Selected Stories
Thousand and One Nights
Mark Twain The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
Valmiki Ramayana
Virgil The Aeneid
Walt Whitman Leaves of Grass
Virginia Woolf Mrs. Dalloway; To the Lighthouse
Marguerite Yourcenar Memoirs of Hadrian

I have refrained from making comments about the listings, because once I start I'll never stop. And I might just be wrong, mightn't I? But I was very tempted to make a little vomit img to insert at particular points.