jawnbc | Hip hop and sand

One of those “didn’t-drink-a-drop-but-I-feel-hungover” kinda days. Must be coming down with a feeling.

Some of my LJ pals (including

susandennis and

ruralrob) are shifting their journals to war free.

An understandable stance, but one I won’t be taking.

However I have decided to try and comment when I feel I have something substantive to say, rather than when the impulse strikes me. Because nothing derails my Piscean soul as much as outrage. Which I currently am. Outraged.

So yesterday I went to the rally, but skipped the march to Circular Quay. After 20 years of activism I’ve learned that the political is personal. Meaning I don’t easily shake off the energy of hundreds or thousands of angry people. Had I tarried forth, I’d probably be weeping in bed.

Yeah, I know. Bizarre. But with age comes (a bit) of wisdom), so I know when not to go there. So I didn’t; I went as far as I could.

Thus today I’m agitated and down. Manageable.

So today I’m seeking my comfort, of sorts. My recovery kit includes:

+a blanket and towel
+SPF 18 (wicked hole in the ozone over ‘Stralia)
+3 cans of coke, iced
+my iPod

Of all the things I’ve ever bought that I truly don’t need, my iPod is certainly the one that’s proven most valuable. Today it will used to listen to 80s hip hop and bad Eurovision pop. Maybe some Springsteen, pre-The Rising.

I’m bringing a book, but probably won’t read it. And I’m going to McDonald’s for lunch, since it’s the closest thing to home cooking.

Besides, what’s better to avoid feeling icky than complex carbohydrates and fried ground beef?

slan