vache de merde

My life has settled into a kind of lazy routine now. I work, I practice french, I obsess over my bike. I ride most days and feel wretched when I don’t, mainly because all the riding is the only bulwark I have against all the eating. Did you know Nutella is fucking delicious? I had forgotten, and now I wish I never remembered, because Nutella is fucking delicious and I can eat that stuff straight out of the jar if I have to. Who needs bread? Bread is just an impediment to noms, and any impediment to noms is an impediment I will not stand for. Spoon the Nutella into my mouth hole directly so that I may know the true sensation of pleasure. Anything else is ancillary.

My bike has transformed over the few short months I’ve owned it. It is no longer stock, I have made sure of that, and it has taken on a sinister edge. I call her Diable, which is french for devil (of course) because she has horns and she is black and sleek where she is not shiny and chromed and she can move very quickly when I need her to. At one point I was haemorrhaging money at my local bike store, a habit I had to stop to save my own financial future, and yet I still can’t stop myself from daydreaming about paint jobs and chemicals and clothing and new wheels. I spent a frustrating afternoon re-tensioning the brakes one day and it was a learning experience and also the brakes have been kind of too soft ever since.

La Diable est dangereux, et doit ĂȘtre respectĂ©.

That’s all. I just wanted to gush about my bike, and food.


Most of the time I am really good at being alone. Most of the time the silence and the darkness aren’t so oppressive. Most of the time I’m not terrified of dying alone.

Most of the time.

The End part 2

Not of this blog. We haven’t reached that yet, despite all the ill omens and signs and portents that seem to say as much. Think of mollyXO like the Roman Empire – a long, slow decline until it gradually transforms into something similar but different, such that it becomes impossible to clearly delineate where it really perished. Who knows what it will become? Not me! And neither do I care.

Today was the end of what I have come to call ‘The License Saga’. A momentary lapse in concentration in November of last year, back before the surgery, cost me my license then and only today, over nine months later, do I have anything to show for that mistake. I’m driving now on what the courts call an X3 condition, or a special hardship license. Basically what that means is that I’m only allowed to ever drive if it is during work hours for my job and like, you know what? That’s fair. That’s absolutely fine. The alternative was never driving ever and, as a result, losing my job entirely so I think I can deal. There is a reason I bought the bicycle, after all.

My dad came with me and drove me from place to place and even bought me a coffee when it was over. He said he was proud of me, which made me beam, then he told me he’s disgusted my the state of the floors in my home (because I have an adverse reaction to vacuuming) so that kind of took the edge off. He also said that if I can manage to ride my bike to his house (30 kilometres away) he would drive me home, so that’s nice. I think I might take him up on it!

I’m so glad this is all over. Nothing hangs over me now, my life has entered a state of calm. My only task now is to live well and be worthy of the opportunities and blessings I have been given by an otherwise amoral universe. Sounds like a full-time job! I’ll see what I can do.

Five Days

On Friday afternoon my iPhone did a forward flip out of my leggings apropos of nothing and landed on the concrete of the depot floor with such force that the screen immediately became a spiderweb of cracks and tiny glass shards. The moment it happened I knew, just from the way it had fallen, that it was fucked, but I spent a very long moment looking at it anyway while everyone else looked at me expectantly to act on this unfortunate event and check the phone for potential fucked-ness. Obviously, because I told the end of this story before the middle, it wasn’t not fucked, but what it was was technically usable and totally okay on the inside so I didn’t freak out too much about it. Shit happens, I told myself, and my boss. I resolved to deal with it later, and make it Future Molly’s problem.

On Saturday night, most of the way through a really, really great Binding of Isaac run, my Macbook Pro slowed to a halt and then crashed and then proceeded to never boot up again. In sharp contrast to my calmness during the iPhone incident I immediately flipped out; it was legitimately too much for me to handle. All the tests and all the fixes and all the everything I tried did nothing, the hard drive had crashed and would not boot and nothing was gonna change that. I cried a lot, and ordered a pizza I could not actually afford, and spent most of Saturday night in like, catatonic shock. Everything just seemed terrible, you know? My computer – which I’d had for four years, longer than all of my previous relationships combined – was now dead, my phone was fucked (official diagnosis), my tv didn’t work, my car only started when it felt like it, my license existed in a twilight state between present and ‘not even technically’; all signs pointed to “Molly should check the fuck out on living” because clearly I was not supposed to be here. The universe was making it known that my continued existence was just a waste of everybody’s time.

For a little while there I entertained thoughts of killing myself, like, seriously killing myself. It’s been a while since I confronted those demons and the interval has not made the task any easier.

On Sunday mum told me she’d help me buy a new computer, so I instead spent most of the day milling about and doing nothing and trying to watch YouTube videos through the cracks in my iPhone screen. Did you know, at a certain distance, you can focus your eyes beyond the cracks? I did not but now I do.

Monday morning mum picked me up and we made all the necessary gyrations to get a court date so I could defend my right to have a license or, failing that, at least get a license granted that would make me eligible to drive for work, if not pleasure. We also bought a new computer! I got a Macbook Air with a tiny hard drive because I reassessed my computing needs versus my financial needs and upon examining the situation I felt like a bigger hard drive or a bigger screen are secondary concerns to ‘having a computer that works’. I know I could have gotten a Windows laptop to save even more money but come on now, let’s be serious, that was never gonna fucking happen. I spent most of Monday night configuring the thing to my liking, until it was essentially the same as my old computer minus some fat and also four years of accumulated life and files. Hmm.

Today, Tuesday, I got to work and my boss took one look at my phone and told me to fix it, and give him the bill, so I did that. The place I went to didn’t have white iPhone screens in stock so they used a black one, and now my iPhone looks kind of like an inverted Domino (from the X-Men), but the phone screen is fixed now and using it no longer introduces your thumbs to a world of tiny glass shards for every conceivable action, so like, yay! It cost altogether too much to have it repaired of course, but I’m not in the habit of looking my boss’ moments of generosity in the mouth (phrasing?) and just took the opportunity by the horns (this metaphor doesn’t work). Also, I promised that I wouldn’t put it in my leggings again, and I meant it.

Now it’s Tuesday night and my back has seized from the cold and probably riding my bike too hard, and I’m considering a long hot shower and an early night. It’s been a busy five days dudes. Holy fuck.

puttin secret shit into beatles hits

At the start of 2015, basically immobilised from the pain of simultaneous surgical recovery and a fucking staph infection, I had such great plans. Plans for my career, plans for my blog, plans for my finances, plans for my health! I think it’s pretty safe to say now, almost halfway through 2015, that most of those plans have been pissed up and over the wall and right out of my life. I am living on a knife edge, I don’t know what six weeks from now looks like let alone six months and I honestly don’t care. I’m just takin’ it day by day baybeeeeeee.

I have no idea what the state of my license is, the various interconnected systems of the Queensland government are absolutely fucking useless at communicating to each other about damn near anything so it’s in like…license limbo. I’m not worried, something deep inside is telling me shit is gonna work out for better or worse and really at this point in the game there’s next to nothing I can even do about it so what the fuck ever, right? I got bikes to ride and french to study and boys to fuck when and if I can manage to make that happen. I nurse a thousand tiny crushes for a thousand handsome men who don’t know I exist and that takes a great deal of my energy that I could not devote if I were worrying about my license all the goddamn time. Gotta prioritise folks.

I finally got rid of my fringe, in a sense, my hair has grown out to such a length that the fringe is no longer an utmost necessity and my newfound lust for riding my bike has made such an accoutrement unwieldy and borderline aggravating. I got a centre part thing going now, with big ole floppy layering down the side that makes me look less intense and more relaxed and care-free (bad photo available on Twitter here). My hope is that people will see less of a highly driven career woman (which I am, when I feel like it) and more a kind of laid back dork who you could probably see changing her phone keyboard to french and then forgetting how to type efficiently on a QWERTY keyboard (which happened). It’s like, I’m not a total bitch, you know? Let my hair reflect that.

Life is good right now. Scary, but in a background radiation kind of way rather than any serious mortal peril. I’m content.

© 2015 Molly Speechley