So yeah, this photo represents darkness. Or uncertainly. I’m not sure which. The fact that it was taken at a petrol station means I can probably work in some sort of socio-political context. Peak oil? Consumerism? Yeah, that’s topical. And edgy. Gotta have edge.
I really really really love being a complete wanker, a complete bull shit artist. It’s amazingly good fun. In fact, my ideal job would be to write the little white plaques you see at galleries that explain exactly why a white canvas with a single streak of black paint down it is an indictment of the misogyny inherent in the agricultural sector. Or perhaps have a whole exhibition of those little white plaques! Or, perhaps, more realistically, I could just spend my time taking the piss out of people who leave ridiculous comments on others’ photos.
Apart from that, I spent most of the day at uni before going to another of Maxim’s concerts. I started the day with a session at the gym, which was really good for waking me up. I think I have some bizarre condition which causes me to yawn like crazy whenever I’m trying to concentrate on neuroscience, and since I had my laptop with me, I started work on my psych lab report on the train. You know that somewhat satisfying feeling you get when you yawn? How the yawn makes you feel better? I was yawning and the need to yawn didn’t go away, and so I was yawning and yawning for something like fifteen minutes straight. In public. How embarrassing. So that is why it is good to go to the gym. I mean, apart from fitness and weight loss and muscle tone and all that fitness-y crap.
Russian wasn’t too bad, although I am slightly disappointed this was the last lesson in the textbook. It means I’ll have to keep studying and fork out another wad of cash to find out whether Vadim will find out that Lyudmila stayed with Peter, and whether Ivan will succeed in his clumsy efforts to court Lydmila. That girl gets around. My next lecture, Policy Making, wasn’t too bad either, at a grand total of approximately ten minutes. Basically, the lecturer explained the take-home exam to us (five responses of 200-300 words each, preferably no referencing… woot!) and then we could go. So we went off to have coffee (as you do).
After a period of faffing around (and watching Rainer throw things at people in what I previously assumed to be a quiet work space), I took the tram down to Southbank (stopping off at Melbourne Central to get some Lord of the Fries) for Maxim’s school concert, which this time was an ensembles night. Compared to our previous, non-musically-selective, school, the standard was amazingly high. Who knew Holst could be played in time? And in tune! The downside to the night (apart from the fact that some Grainger was played) was that I was seated behind an old, rather large and continually flatulent man. Eugh.