anton

Had a birthday. Thanks for the wishes. Don't like them much -- means I'm closer to 25, which is closer to 30, which is closer to 50, which is closer to 70, which is closer to either being dead or, at best, kept alive as a brain in a jar. But it is nice having a big family dinner. One of my teenage cousins gave me a card with a picture of her and three of other cousins, and a big slogan in texta: 'Happy Birthday Cuz! From Ur Best Cousins!!' I told her it was 'very sweet, and about right; the rest of my cousins are pretty average.'

That drunken tackling mentioned in the last post had some very silly medical consequences: Alex - my flatmate - has a fractured rib, and I've got a torn rotator cuff. One of the silliest weekends in some time. Thankfully, things have been toned down since then: poker and drinks, football, and too many video games.

Applying for a new university course tomorrow, hopefully going from Media/Arts Communication to straight up Journalism, which involves actually learning practical skills. That'll be a radical change.

Last Thursday, in the dead of night, a really loud clock alarm went off somewhere in the neighbourhood. It'd beep at a shocking volume for thirty seconds every five minutes. Lights switched on everywhere, people went to their windows, a baby started crying. Dogs howled. It was odd.