Tried to vote today, did not succeed. According to the Australian Electoral Commission, I do not exist. I have been erased from the electoral roll. I discovered this after going to Annandale school to vote, then Leichhardt, then Glebe. The consequences of being a displaced person, I guess. I have moved so many times in the past few years that I have no idea where I lived when I last enrolled. Hopefully I won't get a fine, as they have no idea where I live, so any infringement notices that they send won't have any chance of reaching me.

Possible addresses that they might have had on file: (also an excuse to reminisce...)

1. Sheehy St, Glebe. My first abode after 'leaving home'. A cockroach-infested cesspit of a unit with a view of a brick wall from its handkerchief-sized balcony.

2. Bridge Rd, Glebe. Whatever posessed me to live in Glebe, I do not know. A pretty cool place, actually. Split level apartment with bedroom downstairs, and, upstairs, a big kitchen, bathroom and living room. We lived there for 3 months before the noise of trucks rolling past, 3 feet from our heads, finally took its toll. And we were persuaded by a certain person, who shall remain nameless, that moving in with her and her boyfriend would be a great idea..

3. Calder Rd, Darlington. The house of said nameless person and her partner, where we lived while we looked for a place for the four of us. Living there felt rather strange, as it was in the same street as another person who shall remain nameless, with whom I had a pointless, tiring, heart-wrenching 'relationship'. Except, according to him, we were never really going out.

4. Central Avenue, Eastwood. Great house, inconvenient location, increasingly unbearable housemate situation. Largely due to friction between myself and the first nameless person. We just didn't get along. The fact that we were burgled two weeks after moving in was an omen, I believe. They took my minidisc player. The most expensive thing I ever owned.

5. Rofe St, Leichhardt. This house had the most fantastic bedroom I have ever seen. A loft, huge, with a big balcony that overlooked the neighbourhood. And the kitchen. Oh, the kitchen. Stainless steel, with a massive Ilve cooktop and chef's oven. Only problem: the house basically had two rooms. The bedroom, and the living room. And the bedroom, being a loft, had no door. The lack of personal space caused severe friction between Ben and myself. And then, a pack of morons moved in next door, who had karoke parties every Friday and Saturday night. I called the coppers on them once. In the end, the owners sold the place anyway, so we had to move yet again. I still miss that bedroom.

6. Young St, Annandale. The current abode. Bit small, but nice just the same.

Back to my day. The rest of the afternoon I spent wading through my reading for Music History, the development of polyphony. Tiring, and a bit all over the place, largely due to the stupid infuriating textbook that they make us read. Or maybe it's just me.

and now, Ben and Andrew have taken over the living room with their X-box. Another lonely night, to cap off another lonely day.