I’ve never been a very private person with close friends. I don’t really believe in secrets and my really close friends know prac­tic­ally everything there is to know about me. There are a few things I won’t say, usu­ally because someone else asked me to keep that a…

Didn’t find wire­less access but did find a nice com­munity net space that was happy to plug Inanna (the laptop… the old one was Enki) into their LAN. Nice people. So, uploaded some pics for y’all. Gaudi pic for frou_frou Amaz­ing foun­tains in Bar­celona that I didn’t…

What can I say? Free jazz, red wine, hashish and good sex.

I have turned into that bloody post-Freu­dian fem­in­ist Amer­ican the­or­ist, Jane what­ser­name, who sticks in my memory and wo´‘t leave for the offence of arguing that Roland Barthes can be decon­struc­ted to mean Roll and Bar the S or turn and decon­struct the sig­ni­fier. I…

“My soul’s on fire, lifted higher by a higher love. I sur­render heart and soul, sac­ri­fice to a higer love…” (Depeche Mode) Inter­est­ing. This was the first song that iTunes chose to play for me when I first relaxed in my pen­sion in Toledo. I have still not quite…

*aaahhh* Back on the air, pen­sion booked for Toledo. Now to eat dinner, go buy my train ticket for Toledo and relax. The bloody Rus­sian visa can go do things with the phone card for all I care. Oh and sleazemon­key? You were right about the Museu de l’Erot­ica. I did…

The Rus­sian con­su­late exper­i­ence was… unim­press­ive. Pacific´s web mail is down. I phoned my mother in a fit of piqué and ran my mobile card down to zero. Ouch. I never found a wire­less net­work and so I’ve been paying for access. Grumble. Sigh. On the other hand, the…

So here I am on the other side of the world, and I walk into the Insti­tute of Con­tem­por­ary Cul­ture… and there, on a poster, is a photo of me and apo­cra­ph­ilia and Christina and Cath­er­ine naked in Mel­bourne one rainy morn­ing in 2001. Of course, you can’t tell it’s us,…

Tarantula count for hawk_eye: 0. There are how­ever turtles, teensy-weensy turtles. Lots of them. Cutest ever. And squir­rels. And ham­sters. And pigeons that seem to be either trying to lib­er­ate the finches in the cages or get in there with them, I’m not sure which.…

It’s all very well to know the­or­et­ic­ally that lan­guage is arbit­rary and all mean­ing is deferred, to start to grasp Der­rid­a’s notions of sup­ple­ment­ar­ity. It’s another entirely to be sur­roun­ded by a tongue you barely com­pre­hend and slowly feel those arbitrary…

Why am I less insul­ted… nay, even flattered… by a random guy saying “hola guapa” than I would be by the same random guy saying “hi sexy”? I think it´s prob­ably just the jetlag. I am off to have a nap so I can get up and join in the insan­ity later: appar­ently I´ve…

Hola. Hay muy caler!!! Trans­la­tion: Man, it´s hot here. Bliss des­cen­ded as I stepped off the plane. I was chat­ting with a clear-eyed ex-Yahoo! exec (go figure) who´d moved here to find him­self. He spoke with serenity and calm, look­ing me dir­ectly in the eye, smiling.…