My handwriting with my left hand is getting better.

My GP told me that when he broke his arm one time, he was so ambidexterous by the time his plaster cast came off that he could write two different words with two hands at the same time.

I am now in training to be as clever as my doctor by the time my cast comes off. Surely that can't be too hard, right?

Saw Children of Men last night. Stew loved it and I hated it, which is a sure sign that the dialogue and script were dull and clunky, but it was very cleverly made and shot by an Eastern European cinematographer.

Also interesting to see in the papers today that John Howard is prioritising talks on climate change and Bush might ratify Kyoto. Also, Hugh Heffner has decided to become a feminist and Molly Meldrum has finished a complete sentence.

It's interesting to me how human beings (by which I mean me) rationalise what happens to them. It's also interesting that other people offer their own spin on things.

This is what random people have said to me over the last three weeks of having a broken wrist (answers in brackets):

"Well at least it wasn't your leg" (Okaaaay, but see, If it was my leg, I would be in pain and discomfort with my feet up and two good hands to type with. That suits me better than pain, discomfort, and inability to do anything at all that I enjoy or am usually paid for).

"What happened to the other guy? huhuhugahahaaasnort" (You want me to show you?)

"I guess someone must be telling you to have a break" (Really? Who? What a jerk!)

"Can I sign your arm?" (have we met?)

...etc...

Anyway, as you can see, I am fast running out of ways to see this arm-in-a-sling thing as an advantage and I now hope that somehow the plaster cast will come off and the bones will heal and I will have a very well-funded idea for an ongoing pay TV series, will win a trip to hang out on set with the cast and crew of Studio 60, or will marry into money. Immediately please.

I have long been of the opinion that nerd is the new black.

Watching somebody doing whatever it is they are good at is a very powerful thing. Whether they are drawing, swimming, fixing a car radio, or working through a maths problem... the nerdy obsession is somehow transformed into poetry.

The further the subject of the nerdy obsession is from my own experience, the more impressed I find I am. For instance, watching someone do a maths problem or riding a skateboard or doing yo-yo tricks or remembering poetry or doing any number of the vast oceans-worth of things I can't manage, is much more impressive to me than watching someone else throwing a frisbee or being, you know, good at grammar and spelling and that.

Anyway, for various reasons, I went to a gaming convention on the weekend. Computer gaming. A nerd convention. A geek festival. A scene out of The Simpsons featuring a thousand comic book guys.

I have enough material to write a novel.

I think from now on I am going to go to conventions. At least while my arm is broken, I can claim it on tax as research. Any recommendations, let me know. There is a sci fi convention and a wetlands convention, which I am hoping are sharing the same venue, but my search continues... The more obscure the better.

Having a broken arm is like having a giant claw. I'm not exactly loving it.

Although I can't go out to social events without slumping down into the corner after half an hour, I have been slowly reacquainting myself with my friends over cups of tea. My diary for the past week looks something like this:

Tea: earl grey, lady grey, chai, english breakfast, white wine, mangoes.

Friends: an artist, a singer/songwriter, a filmmaker, someone I went to primary school with, someone I went to High School with, and an official Christmas elf.

Random purchases that probably never would have happened if my wrist wasn't broken: car wash ($12), new mobile phone (minimum $30 per month, phone "free"), $20 worth of raffle tickets for diabetes institute (first ever response to telemarketing), visits to hairdressers ($20 for a wash and blow dry), enormous amounts of codeine.

Things I've watched: Fast Food Nation, lots of Aaron Sorkin, Australian Story (and anything else where people come up against greater odds than mine and win), Scrubs, and half of an accidentally hilarious sports movie called Youngblood, the central charracter in which is actually called Dean Youngblood. Somewhere, there are producers still kicking themselves that they got Patrick Swayze, Rob Lowe, and Keanu Reeves into a film, and it is immortalised thus.

Most annoying incidental things about broken wrist: can't tie shoe laces, or use credit card due to inability to sign name.

Biggest incidental joy brought about by broken wrist: actual hands-in-the-air-not-my-fault inability to dress in anything other than trackie dacks or to cook.

Little thing it makes me think: "Plaster and water wrapped around an essential limb? That's the solution here? Come ON."

Big thing it makes me think: be nicer to old people. Being slow and relying on other people makes me want to scratch my skin off.

Amount of time it took me to write this, in comparison to how long it normally takes: 4:1

Weeks left in cast: five.

Degree of sympathy for own self: extreme to overbearing.

This is me celebrating Stewart's award in cinematography last Saturday night at the Epworth Hospital.

Today's "If I Still Worked In Commercial Radio, This Is What I Would Be Talking About" News Item is obviously this story.

In other news, today I went to get a haircut because I was not looking forward to the potential Mr Bean episode that would inevitably result if I tried to wash my hair with a broken arm in a plastic bag, balancing using a chair and trying to avoid getting soap in my eyes. I think maybe I'll get a haircut once a week until this cast comes off.

Any jokes about how funny it is that I have a "cast" on my "write" arm should be kept from me because I am wielding heavy plaster. That also goes for Stewart, who wrote the high-larious cast related pun in the subject heading above, when I clearly trusted him to type what I was writing. He went free form. He's fired.

What does a writer need? According to Virginia Woolf, it's a room of your own. I would add that probably the use of one's writing arm should also be condideration.

On Saturday night, Stewart Thorn, who shot our short film, won a cinematography award from the Australian Cinematographers Society for his work on another short film, Hollow Bones (directed by Nicholas Verso and produced by Rita Walsh). See it all in lights here. To say that I was a little bit pleased and proud of this would be an understatement. But in retrospect I could have expressed my pride a little more eloquently than by falling over and breaking my wrist.

Yes, I fell over on a slippery floor and snapped my wrist. My writing wrist. I am learning to type one-handed, and the frisbee won't be coming out for at least six weeks, but possibly the worst thing is that I have to bathe wearing a plastic bag. Also, it's kind of cruel that the film that I was celebrating was called Hollow Bones. Do you think someone is telling me something?

Congratulations to Stew and Nick and Rits. Very, very proud. Obviously.