Only have a couple minutes to post, as MaJe are patiently waiting for me on the couch over there. Will continue my daily posts on the terrible delay that I'm operating at later.
I decided I would start reading an Australian book while I'm over here, you know, just to input this place into my cerebral cortex from as many different angles as I could. So I brought with me Tim Winton's Dirt Music (there's no underline command here, Will) and began it a couple days ago.
I came across this passage about surfing the internet, that I really liked and thought I'd send it along:
Logging on -- what a laugh. They should have called it stepping off. When Georgie sat down before the terminal she was gone in her seat, like a pensioner at the pokies, gone for all money. Into that welter of useless information night after night to confront people and notions she could do without. She didn't know why she bothered except that it ate time. Still, you had to admit that it was nice to be without a body for a while; there was an addictive thrill in being of no age, no gender, with no past. It was an infinite sequence of opening portals, of menus and corridors that let you into brief, painless encounters, where what passed for life was a listless kind of browsing. World without consequence, Amen. And in it, she felt light like an angel. Besides, it kept her off the sauce.
With that, we head toward Coogee and the two hour beachwalk to Bondi. Tomorrow is the Blue Mountains.
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