Well, it seems my life has changed in many ways in the last ho hum... week and a half. Not too long ago my boyfriend kicked my ass to the curb and this provided the catalyst for a world of physical change (and emotional growth).
I left the tiny apartment we shared last week and moved into an even smaller sunroom of a bedroom. I purged my belongings into this small space and started negotiating my way around housemates again. We're designing a vegie patch in the backyard for sustainable living (what would happen if the world kept getting money-scary and we couldn't afford to eat?) and my sunroom is starting to feel a little like a home (this'll take years really, but she's getting there)..
What better way to make it feel like home than to cover it in zines? I'd just gotten back from This is Not Art festival in Newcastle when I realised I desperately needed that sunroom in my life. I carried in these boxes that were filled with the trees I'd collected from others at the zine fair.. I started sorting through, things I would like to read, things I've already read, and things that are actually part of my distro and had gotten caught up in the furore. I currently have piles in my bedroom of these zines but yesterday I realised. How The Hell Am I Going To Live Without The Internet? I was momentarily scared, and then OKAY, I made a cup of tea, I sat down to my zining, and then it dawned on me... I couldn't read more than half a page of a zine before I became itchy or disinterested and I am damn well sure that it wasn't the zine's content that provoked this feeling. We, well, I, live in an internet world. I communicate via the internet. I check my emails countless fucking times a day! Even on my mobile phone, and I instant-message and I organise. I build spreadsheets and type anecdotes into word processing programs. I build playlists and make mix-thumbdrives. I download TV. I download feelings even!
So maybe I am being a little bit irrational. Maybe the internet doesn't make me, maybe I make it. And if I'm not there then it just doesn't "go". That feeling would be a little better - a little better than coming back to LJ or Last.fm or Myspace or Facebook or Gmail or Twitter or Ning or Nick Hornby's Blog or SMH or Wordscraper or White Ninja Comics to find that my world has imploded. That the message limits have been reached, I have passed my quota, that posts have built up beyond saving or that people think maybe I am dead.