I'm one of the great unwashed at the library, buying their internet for thirty minutes. There are people here who spell out loud, something more common to me during those excruciatingly sweaty rites of self flagellation they call exams.
Anyhoo, any chance for a Whingeing Spray ... I hate Telstra ... right? Nine days without internet, seven days without a phone ...
I'd like to write one of those inspiring stories about the night the power went out and how we all went from complete panic at our twentyfirst century lives being bastardised, to sitting around a candle lit barbeque and all actually talking to each other, instead of watching TV.
But I don't feel like that. I'm fucking pissed at the buck-passing going on between Omninet and Telstra. I'm so pissed that my mind and body cease to function properly when I start talking to a representative or techie. I just start leaking - tears, insults, saliva, whatever it takes. I'm bound up, however, with hateful internal dialogues that spin around in my head, like tissues in the wash.
And that's why A WineDark Sea has been rather silent. I'll be back when my line is restored.