may 25

Yesterday off to the linguistics factory on the north shore, to listen to kiwis talking to automated answering services, and try to unravel their accents. ictiviting pen code, for example. After fifteen attempts I finally figured it out and had to restrain myself from dancing around the room- the same feeling I get from working out the nine letter word from the grid when reading the weekend paper. So as you can see it's not totally devoid of job satisfaction.

Jack is pursuing me but I (bitter irony of life) am immune. Yes, I'm lonely and sexually frustrated, but he's the absolute last person who's going to profit from it. Instead I feel irritated and somehow sullied by his attentions, and slightly embarrassed, the way you do when somebody repeats a joke too often. I wonder if this is how he felt when I was pursuing him? horrid thought.

Still pawing through Jorge's blog with a mixture of pity, voyeurism and love of foreign literature. I spoke with Franki on the weekend and finally got a slightly more elaborated version of why she left Tony- his lack of interest in her internal life. Wait: I'm paraphrasing again. What she actually said was, I wanted him to ask me all sorts of questions that he never asked. So I'm compiling a log of unsatisfactory situations and behaviours-
fusion, codependencia, asking the wrong questions or just not asking. She gave me all the encouragement that a bitter cynic is likely to give and i ended up feeling that I had been patronised and my domestic fantasy dragged out of its dark cupboard and ridiculed in the market square.