Gertrude’s Diary #13

Gertrude's Diary

I”m touched by loadedog”s hats off to me, but I feel that I should clarify a couple of points.

I was meeting a few friends with a view to playing some music when Big Al arrived with the news that Loadedog was getting a run on the new 2XX “in the can” program, and that one of our songs might be played. “Well, cool. We”ll have a listen then”, we said. And it was an enjoyable novelty to hear a familiar voice in that ephemeral medium, and we giggled at his various faux pas and agreed with what he said, or not, as the case may be.

Truly my expectations were mild ” I didn”t even think our song would be played if the producers had any choice. But when loadedoggy was asked about the website, and he didn”t mention me, I felt unaccountably disappointed. However; I would not be doing any of this without loadedog”s support and encouragement and general get-up-and-go-to-make-it-happen management style, so there was really no need to take him to task over it.

And I”m happy to have a modest role, and I enjoy writing these things anyway. So definitely an overreaction. The real problem comes from the fact that during the roughly 48 hour period in question I was horribly pre-menstrual. (I know there may be some men among the readership who feel slightly sickened at the reference to the female reproductive process, but, I guess, they can just suck my cock). My irrational state became apparent to me even as I was in the midst of my little festival of hormones. Picture the scene; myself and the man formerly known as Captain Pants, relaxing at home.”

She”s sitting at her computer in the living room. He”s in the adjacent kitchen, making delicious Sunday morning breakfast aromas drift around. He hears her cry out and says sarcastically, “What”s the matter? Did you get your spelling wrong”.

She does not answer, and he enters the room to find her with her head in her hands, sobbing, tears streaming from her eyes, the very apotheosis of despair. “No, no.” he cries, “what is it darling”. Rushing to her he enfolds her in his manly arms, “Tell me, what is it”Raising her head she looks into his eyes and says miserably “I just hate John Howard so much”.

Then we had an argument about unions and capitalists; which are the most self-interested?

Yes folks, that”s a true story from the life of Gertrude.

I’d been reading Workers Online Digest; picturing the crowd of people marching from Sydney Town Hall to the Quay. And when I got to the part where they come into view of the Harbour Bridge, and how the bridge workers unfurled an enormous Rights At Work banner in a show of worker solidarity, I was moved to tears. It wasn”t even anything really to do with John Howard”s policies, more about my love of ordinary people who can work together for a common cause. Unfortunately, it was also during this period of time that I chose to write diary #12. Some perspective would probably have been good, and I”ll admit to being rather embarrassed at loadedog”s subsequent plea on my behalf for positive affirmations from the readership. But that”s ok. I wouldn”t be doing this if I had an attachment to dignity.

And thanks to David Heidelberg for his words of encouragement. Right back at you, David.

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