i’ve gotta give a paper in may (on music stuff i guess), i’m getting the lotr stuff done today so i can write the report (go look here for a project description, you can even do the survey if you like), and i’m trying to edit my ridiculously long chapter on music and djing. which is why, of course, i’m doing bloggage.
but i love it. i love my thesis so much. it’s really interesting stuff. i wish, though, that i could be a bit cleverer with the theory stuff. i just know i’m not reading enough hardcore lit. but i sure am wanking on a fair bit about swingers’ use of music. djing as professional identity… i’m getting a feeling about the development of professional roles in subcultures… is it a sign of a complicating of the community? is it a sign of community development?
only if you figure go-capitalism is a marker of community growth. maybe it’d be less distressing to see it as a marker of corruption. degeneration… nah.
but it’s certainly a marker for patterns of power and status.
maybe i should should wack some of my work up on here? not like anyone would read it, though, i guess.
Red Singlet Girl was at the gym on tuesday when i was.
i think i’ve got a crush. she’s so cool. she was doing this thing where she was lifting her whole body up from two parallel bars (like the gymnastic ones), she was just hanging there, going up and down, up and down, her legs together, toes pointed, muscles rippling. it was so cool. so i made sure i did the very best fitball squats ever. because i reckon i could be that cool. and i’m sure even exercises with the name ‘fitball squats’ could be as cool as lifting your own body weight up and down, up and down, suspended between two parallel bars.
i was considering making my own togs.
i was going to make a swimming costume. obviously ill-fitting trousers and weirdo stripey shirts weren’t enough. i was seriously thinking about full-scale public humiliation.
oh goddess, help me to restrain myself.
i had planned to write more regularly. but i got all caught up in some postgraduate angst and couldn’t face the computer. so i went to the gym. i’m now very obsessed with yoga, avoiding aerobics and have bought a new pair of bathers.
Continue reading “surely it wouldn’t be that hard to make bathers?”
ok, so i’ve found that broken thing again. if you go to the ‘march’ entries, and try to look at the comments… you can’t. i’ve broken something. woops. will try to fix soon.
i’m concerned that my last post made me sound like an anorexic barbie, panicking about her appearance and arse.
i’d just like to state, categorically, that:
1) i am not a barbie
2) i am not anorexic
3) i do actually quite like my body
4) i am going to the gym to get fit enough so that i don’t die at herrang in july (provided i get the grant so i can go do the field work)
5) i do secretly fancy myself as a linda hamilton type. i think i could look good in muscles
so why the gym, not-barbie?
i wasn’t getting enough exercise and was increasing in girth. not a huge problem in itself (i always feel the same size, and am surprised when i can’t fit into pants), but had practical concerns: i couldn’t afford to keep myself in pants; it was harder to dance a lot; i was getting less flexible – mass = harder to bend; and so on.
so far it has been observed that ‘yes, you are getting smaller’ and ‘you jiggle less now’. unfortunately, the latter point also applies to the bust area, as the natural consequence of weight loss. and while The Squeeze greets my front with ever-increasing mournfulness, i am assuring him that a stronger ‘poss will also mean more robust displays of affection, which he quite likes.
i care only for fitballs, stretches and weights. the rest is for babies.
Continue reading “queen of the gym”
blog research continues.
today i read a blog called ‘belle de jour’, which was linked from this blog ordinary morning which i really like. seems this belle de jour is Controversial – lots of newspaper time. she’s (supposedly – who’d know for sure? and who cares either way) a Lady Of The Night. the blog is suitably saucy, but also fairly well written, which is a relief. there’s far too much shit in the blog world. at any rate, if you’re interested, here’s the link. there aren’t any embarassing pictures so you can read it at work. i lost interest after a page. i think i like the blogs with kids in more than the blogs with pussies, i’ve decided.
sorry. that was crude.
but i still like the kiddy blogs more.
i think i swear a lot. i’m not sure i should put me swearing so much (and so aggressively – oh my!) in a public space. where The Mother might read it. or even more worrying, where dad (who doesn’t have a million years in social work to cushion the blow) might read it.
today i suddenly thought (while i was reading this blog), how do we know what someone’s gender is when we read their blog? i’ve sort of been thinking, off to the side of my brain there, where i don’t notice it, ‘wonder if this person’s a girl or a boy’ when i read a new blog.
and then i thought, ‘oh, i must be easy to pick’. what with that big picture of myself up there at the top. you’d be surprised how many of my readers (my readers – fahahfhfha)have said ‘hey, where did you get a picture that looks like yourself from?’ or ‘hey, that picture really looks like you!’. maybe i’m a more convincing artist than i’d thought?
does gender change the way i read a blog? i’m noticing that most of the ones that i’m getting from this site and sticking in my favourites (- blogs and friends’ sites – blogs to read) are by blokes over 35 with at-home jobs.
i was looking for some ‘feminist’ blogs, or at least blogs by women who weren’t writing cutesy stories about their goddamn motherfukking cats (sorry, but really – CATS?! what the goddamn fukk?!! how can i be expected to bear this bullshit…?). i’m liking reading the identity blogs, but i’m not afro-american, so i’m looking for some other sorts of resonances… oh, i should add that most of my most-read blogs are by gay men, or hetero men with kids.