A Poem about Vincent:

You dreamed I was an architect
student.
I couldn't stay with you because
I was going to be late for class.
But you wanted me to stay.

We had walked much of the
previous day.
And it wasn't cold because
we held hands.
We became buildings of our own.

------------end-------------------

Just showed my mum how blogs work. She couldn't read the log properly (going blind) and didn't really think it was too amazing ("It's amazing what you can do these day" and walked out of the room) Hmmm, maybe I'll keep sending her reminders to visit my page! Anyways, keep going girl!

It's so hard to think exactly what I want to write. I try to be very clean and precise with my typing, grammar etc, and I dread pressing the 'publish' key. It's too exact. I have to try to remind myself to use this more often. I love diaries, what the hell is wrong with the computer one? It is the 'real' publish-ness that I am feeling, I think. I'll be more carefree later, I'm sure. These initial stages just feel a little strange.
WELL, then! see you later!

That's enough for today, I have to get used to this before I can actually post anything else.

(Building resumes) I have looked for Gough Whitlam all day here in the computer space. The pictures are much greater than the text.

educated
or hypereducated,as it is will lack those,qualities of
humanity

Well, it's the silence of this whole thing that is unnerving. Biting. But! That's just the way it goes.

This is it then. This is where I find myself.