tales from an ordinary world

1999-01-26

Australia Day. Woo. Everyone's going to the Big Day Out, which is one of those lots-of-bands-at-once festivals. "Perhaps it'll be the defining moment of my generation," mused a friend. I'm not quite sure I agree - I know too many others to whom the 100th episode of a TV show like "Friends" would be infinitely more important. I'd take the Big Day Out over TV, but there's never quite been enough bands I liked enough to want to go. "Maybe next year..."^TM.

I still can't find a new book to read. I nearly bought a Camus, but didn't feel up to looking quite that pretentious today. I half-heartedly bought a compilation of contemporary Chinese fiction, but I'm not sure I really feel like reading it just now. When all else fails, I usually manage to find a book by just wandering about in a bookshop - eventually something catches my eye. I've found most of my favourite books that way, instead of the usual word of mouth thing. But then, of my book-reading friends, they're mostly either sci-fi/fantasy heads (I grew out of most of that ages ago), or they think that people like John Grisham walk on water. Only a small handful of them have slightly more adventurous reading habits, and I never really see them often enough to let their reading habits infect me.

I wandered down to St Kilda beach and went to sit on the end of the small pier. Two guys were there, one of whom seemed stuck in a rather long monologue, while the other just sat there listening. After a few minutes of hearing bits and pieces of this, I worked out that the guy was praying. I knew what would happen next, of course. I'm the only other person on the pier, and I'm by myself. Easy prey. The guy finishes, and his friend comes over to introduce himself, ask me if I believe in God, and all that sort of stuff. I answer civilly, chat to them for a minute or two, but draw the line when they ask for my phone number. Sorry, guys, but no. I guess it's because I spend a lot of time walking around on my own, but I've always been a magnet for these evangelists - at uni, in the city, on the beach, and so on. Perhaps they can tell that I'm too nice to say something offensive and walk off straight away.

In a fit of narcissism this afternoon, I listened to a tape my sister's fiancee had made for me - my grandmother in England wanted to hear me when I was on the radio last December, so he taped my second show, then made a tape of just me talking (and a few bits of song before and after). I'm still not comfortable hearing my own voice. And I said "um" a hell of a lot, too.