Skyberries and Voidmelons or Voidberries and Skymelons

I'm re-reading Microserfs, to help with a project for Douglas Coupland, and last Thursday, I sat in Starbucks, reading the book, and drinking a tall mocha with soya milk, without whipped cream, to escape the rain outside. I realised I could be anywhere right then.

Yes, the caffeine was infiltrating my mind, but it was more Microserfs that was making me think and made me want to blog more. Oh, it always does.

I am squirmelia@livejournal.com (in this LiveJournal post, at least). If my life was a game of Jeopardy! I still wouldn't know, even now, after all this time (14 or so years since I first read Microserfs) what my seven dream categories would be. I'm not sure what that says about me.

A year or two ago, I was a tester- a bug checker, in the UK, and then I studied usability, interaction design, ergonomics, and now I'm on the opposite side of the world.

From the tram window, I saw a man, laughing, and carrying a small black and white rocking horse.

When I first moved to Melbourne, I used to write down the words I saw on the walls, the pavements, the shops, and the pages of random words and phrases in Microserfs, reminded me of this.

I decided to visit an art gallery: the Rosalie Gascoigne exhibition at the NGV. I looked at doll heads, eyes on garden forks, eyes in shells, art made from roadsigns, bits of found wood (weathered, and it made me think of Dungeness somehow).

And then, I headed to the beach. The sky was grey. It was cold and I wore a long black coat and beret. It could have been Montauk. It could have been England. There were windswept lone trees; waves; sand dancing; a red bridge, but also turquoise jellyfish and windsurfers.