nude twister
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July 29, 2003 @ 11:43 p.m. Dear Diary, Today Anson Cameron came to lecture my fiction writing class. He is my new hero, or perhaps my new anti-hero. I like anyone who gets asked to present an academic lecture and manages to bring up compulsive masturbation, crazy old ladies, too much alcohol and Shepparton as well. I also liked the fact that our normal lecturer is very big on people doing things properly, going to University and taking everything seriously and all that. And Cameron came right out and said that he spent his time at Monash drinking too much and failing stuff before eventually dropping out and going to work in an iron mine. I don't think our lecturer liked that part, though. I went and had a brief chat to him after the lecture, and he was very nice to talk to. We talked about libraries and about rorting the literary competition system. I did not go all silly and shaky-voiced and daft, even though he's an author whose style is amazing and whose command of language I can only aspire to. I was very glad I left my copy of Tin Toys at home, preventing any chance of sad examples of fangirldom. Not that I think that would have happened, anyway. I have this thing where I try not to embarrass myself in public. Mostly it doesn't work. It was a fantastic lecture though. And now I must scurry off and read the rest of his stuff. I would recommend you do, too. Normally I'm all bah humbug about stuff about cocaine dealers and all that jazz, but in Cameron's case, I make an exception. Love, Rev P.S. Later on today in my feminist literary criticism seminar I had the unpleasant experience of feeling my brain turn to porridge. Which sucked, because I had a lot to say about the article we were reading, but in the end I managed to impress my vast intellect upon my fellow students. When the tutor mentioned that we go on to French femlitcrit next week, I unwittingly uttered a terrified "gaaaahhh!" I am of the new breed of intellectuals.
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