On the Ingenuity of Desperation (Part 3)

The final introduction:

[Start of introduction.]

You CANNOT read this blog post without reading the last two that went before it.

And, oh, it’s just strange to hear my voice from nearly ten years past. Those of you out there who’ve kept journals from childhood probably know what I mean.

[End of introduction.]

[Start of blog post.]

June 3, 2001. Sunday. 8:47 p.m.

[Guess where.]

YES!!! Am undisputed poker queen extraordinaire! Bridget was right—key is to detach self from all things, like yokozuna about to enter sacred dōjō. Won almost all card games versus siblings with notable lack of vicious post-victory smugness. Am obviously on right path to self-mastery, Zen-like control and other such exotic Oriental philosophy. Now, if only can apply to rest of life and not just pointless gambling exercise.

June 3, 2001. Sunday.  9:02 p.m.

[Snuggling under cosy sunflower yellow quilt in effort to battle impending bout of insomnia.]

Am lying down in bed now fully-clothed as stupidly forgot to pack bedclothes in overnight bag. Am also dreading tomorrow as body in verrry BAD shape, i.e. not waifishly thin ala Kate Moss which is disappointing as have come from Paris and expected to carry visible impact of world’s fashion capital on self. But am also looking forward to return as can therefore start immediately on weight loss program without interference from Mum or constant reminders about the poor starving children of Somalia (or other similarly-deprived country).

June 3, 2001. Sunday. 9:37 p.m.


Cannot sleep as trying frantically to come up with 50 witty rejoinders to gleeful “Why, you’ve gained weight!” accusations from supposed friends. Can either throw accusation back, at risk of starting all-out verbal slugfest, or, can claim weight gain actually intentional as actually underweight in relation to height. Of course, probability of friends believing latter excuse quite nil, but at least explanation reflects originality, creativity, inner poise and general do-I-care-what-you-think?-ness (a very enviable trait these days).

June 4, 2001. Monday. 5:16 a.m.

[Where else?]

Have just been woken up by preternaturally loud phone alarm but useless as Mum has first dibs on cabin shower. Am therefore grumpily, uselessly awake in manner of hibernating bear fooled by global warming into believing is early spring. Grrr.

June 4, 2001. Monday. 6:00 a.m.

[Standing next to bunk instead of lying on top for change.]

Yippee. Have finally docked at port and best part is boat exactly on time. Unfortunately, younger brother of Daddy nowhere to be found as have decided not to show up due to irresponsible domestic help deciding to quit at most inopportune time.

[End of Part 3 of blog post.]


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