tales from an ordinary world

1999-09-01

A day off work. The kind of thing one should savour and use wisely, or at least, that's the theory. I took it easy - wander down to St Kilda by tram for breakfast, back to the city via Balaclava...then the train out to Malvern where I had lunch in some little Japanese takeaway place I'd never been to before.

Later, I lay on the grass in Caulfield Park, trying not to be bothered by the sounds of the traffic while I watched the clouds go by.

I watch the people. I usually suspect that they all have more of a sense of purpose in whatever they happen to be doing while I watch them, but I wonder. Surely some of them are aimlessly wandering about like I am ?

I'm amazed by all the stuff in my head. I'm amazed at what I remember (and what I can't remember), and I'm amazed that people think I'm smart because I know things that they don't. I'm amazed at the range of people I get along well with - I've mentioned this before, more or less, but I get the feeling that what most people find appealing about me is that I'll sit there and listen to them. I'm the listener. I take it all in, and sometimes I even make feeble attempts at giving advice. But usually I stick to listening...

1999-09-02

So I spent the afternoon at PCIT, since a friend asked me to come along with her. I even Did The Right Thing^TM and wore my Netizen t-shirt, in case anybody was paying attention. I did the socializing bit at the LUV stand, and avoided the gaze of people trying to shove bits of paper at me as I walked past all the other stands...Somehow I would have rather stayed at the Blue Train Cafe, just up the river, where we'd had lunch and a few beers. The sun was out all day, and it was delicious sitting outside. On the way back after the show we stopped so I could grab a G&T - it was that sort of weather :)

Current listening is S.L.S.Q. by the Aints.

1999-09-06

It's that awful mid-afternoon part of the day, when the processed (but not cool) air stifles you and you just can't think properly. The lowest point of the bell-curve - you can see your co-workers wilting. Spiderbait fails to rouse me...instead, I think I'd rather escape to Fawkner Park and lie in a tree, completing the circle of slothfulness, as it were. I wonder if I'll be awake enough to do the radio show tonight ?

Grow a moustache and the world calls you a porn star...

1999-09-07

"I want to live
I want to give
I've been a miner for a heart of gold
It's these expressions I never give
That keep me searching for a heart of gold
And I'm getting old."
Neil Young

I should mention last night first. Last night was...one of those journeys back in time where I went and had dinner in Clayton before the radio show, in an old familiar Chinese restaurant. Back in '93/'94 I used to come here at least once a week with my girlfriend, who was living nearby. We ate, we chatted with the owners. We were happy (as far as I remember). In itself, it was a happy time. I wasn't trying to recapture those times, I just needed somewhere to eat. And I hadn't been there in a while. The same people serving the same food - not that this was necessarily a bad thing. It seemed like some sort of safe haven. You didn't feel threatened by the world at large - there was food, there were a few other patrons, the people smiled at you, and generally things seemed ok. Middle of the road, but ok. And that's how it was back then. My life, my whole frame of mind was so different. I didn't really know any better. I just kinda figured we'd go on together, get married one day, do all the usual stuff. Life would be straight and narrow. I had a steady job. We moved to Hawthorn. Things were fine until, gradually, I just failed to cope with it all. Perhaps I'm just not up to this commitment stuff. I'm just a man, after all. We're known for being weak shits, aren't we ?

But I digress - I was talking about Chinese restaurants in Clayton. So many memories, so little time. Or perhaps, to quote Raymond Carver, there's so much water, so close to home...

1999-09-09

I wander the city streets after work, not really knowing what to do with myself. The rain starts to fall, but I'm deep in thought. As I walk past more and more people, I start thinking about how much I'm missing you (since we were chatting earlier today)...and then about how I'm not supposed to be thinking about you like that nowadays...More and more people sweep past in their flight paths to some evening destination or other. I examine each person, pondering the eternal question, at least in my mind - what is it that motivates you all ? I've always been curious about what drives a person - what's made them what they are now ? and what's currently making them what they're going to be in the future ? I'm wet, but it's a good wet, whatever that means.

One of the things that drives me is music. I need it. I can't get enough of it. But you already know that (and probably wish I'd shut the hell up about it). I wander into Gaslight Music and listen to a Yo La Tengo CD - they fit the mood of the evening so well. I almost miss my stop on the train because I'm so deep in thought. It's still raining, but I walk all the way home in the dark and the wet, through Caulfield Park. Just as I step into the park, the token "we're going to make something that sounds so utterly beautiful it'll nearly bring you to tears" track that Yo La Tengo always seem to put on every one of their CDs starts up. Fortified, I trudge home.

In one of those enlightened moments, Nate said...

The reason these net diaries are so popular these days is that friends just don't have time to catch up with all the mates they'd like to. Publishing these journals means that when you actually get to meet/talk, you don't have to bother with the "so, what you been up to" kind of talk -- you _know_, because you've been reading. Instead, you can proceed immediately to a more intimate level of discussion, eg "So has your boss got any better" or "you seen any more of that hot chick you met on saturday" etc.

...which...is kinda true. I just recently made myself write to a whole lot of overseas friends I used to converse with on a more regular basis. These days, it's hard to feel motivated to write the (more or less) same letter to so many people at once, and as I mentioned to Nate, a year or two back I toyed with the idea of writing one big email and sending it to each of the friends I was keeping in touch with. At the time though, my sense of inner guilt (hereafter known as "my Catholic guilt") kicked in, chastising me for even considering such an impersonal approach to friendships. And even now, I think only one or two of those friends read this journal - other friends of mine read this too - ones I probably wouldn't have written to at all because...well...I don't know. People I'd occasionally run into at various social (or geek) occasions, who I never really keep up with these days...Earlier this year, just after I started this up, one of these friends mailed me saying "I've learnt more about you through your journal than in real life", or something like that. Every now and then, I reflect on that and wonder if I've been doing things right...

I miss having a cat in the house. They're not perfect, but they're good company.

1999-09-10

I'm still feeling restless when I get home, so I wander out again, letting myself be pulled whichever way the public transport system blows. Eventually, I end up in Chapel St with the tragically hip and the just plain tragic. Fitting neither of these categories (I hope), I'm practically invisible as I walk the street. I find a café I can cope with (it was nearly empty :) and have a quick, but fairly satisfying dinner.

And now I'm home. Somewhere in between was a whole lot of walking, waiting for a tram, and then sitting on a tram. But it all seems so automatic these days...

1999-09-12

It's sunny. With nothing better to do I head back to St Kilda beach, grab lunch and sit on the end of the little pier to read (and finish) another book. The cold sea breeze freezes my hands, but I remain determined to sit there until the book is finished - it's only a short one. It's fairly quiet, and I have the pier to myself, save for the odd short visit by a few couples, and a guy whose dog gleefully jumps off and swims to the shore.

Upon returning to the beach, I realise how silent it's been - the wind was presumably protecting me from the hundreds of voices along the beachfront. Reaching into my bag I retrieve my headphones. Beautiful noise fills my head as I reach the concrete pathway that straddles the beach. I lean against a signpost and observe the proceedings, as always, from inside my little bubble that constantly keeps me distant from the world at large. All these people, with their rollerblades, prams and cargo pants. It just doesn't seem quite real.

About 6 years ago, Evan Dando (of the Lemonheads) did a solo gig at the Tote in Collingwood. A friend and I went to see him, and my friend recorded it all on a walkman. While I didn't really listen to my copy of it all that much, a lot of the stuff he sang that night stuck in my head ever since - he did heaps of covers - Neil Young, Lucinda Williams, Gram Parsons, and I wish I could find that tape again...

later...

On nights like this, I often wonder exactly how it is I get home. The usual Sunday night dinner at Sue's. Food, wine, etc. It's a good way to spend a Sunday evening. Afterwards, it's a 40 minute drunken walk home. How do I get there ? Tonight, dear reader, I understand. You put one foot after another. It's that simple. You don't stop. They move of their own accord. You walk past funeral parlours, pizza houses and even the local strip joint. You turn corners, realizing afterwards that you can't quite remember the actual moment of turning the corner. Somehow, it just happens. And eventually, you're home. Asleep. In your own bed. That's most of what matters.

Earlier, while at Sue's, I stood out on the balcony. An aircraft sped across the sky, blinking its light as it flew south. At the same time, a Mercedes grooved past, it's tail-lights flaring as it went around the bend towards the highway. It was a beautiful moment, and I must confess that I was thinking of Ana as I stood out there. It was a wonderful evening, full of sights and sounds, and I only wish I had someone with me to appreciate it.

1999-09-13

I'm a rolling stone all alone and lost
For a life of sin I have paid the cost
When I pass by, all the people say
"Just another guy on the lost highway"
Hank Williams.

I hate sounding so pathetic, so I'll keep this one short. Despite the wonderful weather, and a generally stress-free working day, I couldn't shake this feeling of loneliness and disaffection - it was like the bubble between me and the world had become ten times as thick as usual, and there was an "avoid at all costs" sign stuck to my forehead. After standing at the counter of the fish & chip shop for 5 minutes, they still hadn't taken my order, so I gave up and walked home. My housemate's out for the night, so it's just me and my Hank Williams CD. The world seems so far away tonight. I'm scared.

1999-09-14

Considering how I was feeling yesterday, I've had a surprisingly productive day. Other people I know are quite capable of throwing themselves into their work in order to try and avoid their dark inner thoughts, but I'm generally not like that - perhaps because I'm just not a work-centric person ? I'm not sure. In any case, I'm glad I Got Stuff Done. Even tonight, after work, I did a few hours of (other) work. Amazing.

1999-09-16

...so somehow I ended up tagging along with Adrian to his friend's place for a very nice dinner. Our taxi driver seemed to be one of the more extreme cases I've had - he spent the whole trip ranting about American-made computer parts that know when we're doing something that could be construed as being anti-american, and automatically shut themselves down, and I forget what else. We were desperately trying not to laugh - he was a pretty scary guy. I didn't dare ask him about his Y2K contingency plans...

1999-09-19

Another very quiet day. Lunch in Malvern, and an extended walk home 'cause I was bored with walking home the same way. All the same, there was nothing much to report - lots of big houses, but nobody really seemed to be about - not quite to the extent of Canberra as I remember it, but things seemed fairly vacant all the same.

I was still feeling restless when I got home, though. I dug through the piles of stuff under the desk in my bedroom, hoping I might find that old concert tape I'd remembered the other day. Instead, I found other stuff and at the same time managed to fit a lot of things into the cupboards - out of sight, out of mind. I even managed to throw out a few things, but hung onto some random memorabilia, like the postal forwarding form from when I moved out of my first flat and a christmas card from the girlfriend I'd broken up with (and hence, why I was moving out of that flat). There were also some newsletters from my friend's band.

There was a state election yesterday, and apparently a guy who'd been in my year level at high school had managed to get elected, but I'm unsure of the details. I remember him quoting Gough Whitlam at me at high school - I remain unconvinced of the virtues of a life in politics, but I guess somebody has to do it.

I finally started reading Stephen Cummings' new book, Stay Away from Lightning Girl. The story's based in Melbourne, and funnily enough much of it takes place in Caulfield - the suburb has a different name in the story, but having lived in the area for a while, you knew where he was writing about as soon as he mentioned the first few things - the racecourse next to the university (and the shopping plaza just next to all that), the korean restaurants nearby in Carnegie, and so on.

I know I have a lot to be thankful for in this life. I've had a lot more good luck than I rightfully deserve, and I wonder how I've managed to get away with the way my life's just...floated along. In any case, I should...Hmm. I'm not sure what. Lots of things. More responsible. Stuff like that. I should work out what sort of person I really am. I should try and work out how much of my lifestyle I'm willing to give up for a relationship - most of the other times, I give up too much at the beginning, and end up getting bitter about it later on. Hmm.

1999-09-20

A day off. I sit at St Kilda beach and finish my book. Afterwards, I just sit and watch the waves for a while. Some distant speedboats make sounds that, by the time they reach the shore, seem like some sort of submerged water creatures crying out for their mate.

I'm doing a lot of soul-searching. "Quo Vadis ?" Indeed. My powers of concentration aren't what they used to be, and I guess thats my excuse-du-jour for why I'm not making the most of what I have. I feel so distant from everybody - my family, my friends and my various work colleagues..."Fitting in" with each of these different groups always seems like such an effort, somehow. In each case there's a different aspect of my life that matters to them, and I always worry that I'm not able to place enough emphasis on that one thing when I'm with them.

1999-09-21

For the first time in my life (which might surprise some of you), I dyed my hair black this evening. Just for something to do, you understand...

This morning, I went down to the head office to visit my boss about something or other. He'd moved to a different floor of the building, to an office right along the wall that faces the road, and it was glass all the way up that wall. I stood next to it, watching the people walking, the blue sky and the Compaq building across the street, while we waited on hold for a phone call we were making. It was one of those randomly poetic moments that didn't really mean anything in particular, apart from looking cool. Kind of like a filler scene in a movie, perhaps.

1999-09-22

Lunch. I wander down to the Glenhuntly shops - it's been a while since I went there, and it's somewhere else to go...A lot of people with prams here. The mothers seem older, or maybe just more worn out ?

Apparently it's school holidays, but I haven't noticed the usual mass of kids wandering about - perhaps they're all in the city, or at the Royal Melbourne Show...

The newspaper stands tell about the upcoming Grand Final this Saturday, and the continuing saga of last weekend's state election. The caf� faintly plays the music of a probably long-forgotten bluesman (it seems a bit out of place to be hearing blues in the middle of a sunny afternoon...) Regardless, life goes on.

I just plugged the headphones into my monitor so I could listen to the latest Prototype Chan. Haiyan has an oddly intriguing voice, because certain aspects of it remind me of a lot of different people and things. Take the way she says "box", for instance. It reminds me of something that's on the tip of my tongue, but just won't come to me. As a person I've never really met apart from the odd "I think you're who I think you are" kind of nervous wave when I was still working at Monash, I find her disembodied voice itself rather interesting, which isn't really something I find with people I talk to (as in, voice, not words on a screen). It makes me think of various singers - once you listen to enough of their singing, you can imagine exactly how they'd sing certain phrases. I should stop deconstructing my friends like this - I don't know if it's polite :)

But I stray from the main point, about the headphones in the monitor. They pick up a delicious random interference, that's affected by what I'm doing on the computer. As I type, the interference chatters away with almost animal-like sounds. I scroll a Netscape window up and down, and it responds. Different amounts of data on the screen changes the pitch of the white noise. It's beautiful. People do actually use this to make music. If only I had a short-wave radio...I remember having one as a child, and spending heaps of time wandering up and down the bandwidth, finding all sorts of cool random noises and broadcasts from far, far away....

1999-09-25

Grand Final day. The city (off the main streets, at least) is a little emptier than usual. It's often a good day to walk around. I remember 2 years ago, walking around St Kilda on grand final day. I'd just been dumped by a girlfriend, and so was spending a fair amount of brainpower rationalizing my feelings and generally just trying to adjust to my rather sudden singledom. Nevertheless, I was still able to enjoy the day - it was fairly sunny, but not completely cloudless. Random windows proudly displayed the St Kilda football club logo, and out on the streets it was calm. After all, most people were indoors, somewhere or other, watching the match.

Today, the sky is a blanket light grey. Hundreds of blue (or blue & white) scarf-wearers file down Flinders St on their way to the match. It's still fairly quiet, though - the noise will come later, after the match. The victors will drunkenly sing their team's song as they wobble through the city or take the trains home. The losers will slink away, hoping they don't get noticed by the winners who'd be eager to taunt them about the scoreboard. Yes, welcome to Grand Final day in Melbourne...

1999-09-26

Maybe it was just that I got up early on a Sunday morning for once, but by the time Terry and I found a park miles away from the Brunswick St festival and had walked over to it, I was really tired. 4 years ago, the festival was a lot of fun when we went. There was lots of stuff going on in all the side streets, with random odd parades and music and such. It was definitely a younger crowd this time around. Up the north end of the street, the local dance-music radio station-sponsored stage pumped out deafening doof doof music that sadly drowned out the Flamenco performance a bit further down. There were a few food stalls along the street, but there didn't quite seem to be as much going on as last time - it just looked like a whole lot of people trying to get past each other as they moved along the street, presumably looking for something to do. I guess it was good "walking in crowds" practice, if nothing else. Given that I'd ended up entirely in black clothing again (more or less by default), I seemed a bit out of place. If I'd thought about it, I might've worn one of those random bright orange tops I had sitting around at home, but it's not like it really would have mattered in the end. I felt invisible, and given how lethargic I felt, this wasn't an entirely bad thing.

We ducked into one of the random art object shops, and I ran into Scott, who'd just got back from his Tripod gig at the Edinburgh festival (like, in Scotland). "yeah, the gig was pretty good, but driving around the highlands afterwards was much better".

I gave into random impulse at the computer swap meet (badly named, since no actual swapping goes on, it's more just a good place to buy cheap hardware from slightly dodgy retailers) and bought a TV card for my computer. Given that I don't watch much TV, I can't see myself using it to watch TV, but I might sample random bits for amusement. Or something. Oh, and it does FM radio too, which might be fun. I was hoping to be able to pipe stuff into AudioMulch with it, but that doesn't appear to be as easy as I'd hoped, since the software that came with it doesn't seem very general-purpose...

1999-09-27

Monday still clings to me like sweat - even though it's a cool night outside, the buildings remember, - work, the radio station, home, wherever.

1999-09-28

dig me a hole,
take me away,
keep me cool
and safe.

It's a slow week. I've been trying not to wilt, but every time I look in the mirror I feel tired. I need to learn to relax more effectively.

Luckily there's a new batch of Pokey the Penguin. Hooray !

1999-09-30

Tired. Especially after the launch party for mp3.com.au which I somehow ended up at, mainly as Tom's sidekick. He recorded a lot of it on a MiniDisc recorder, which you can go and listen to. Ice-T certainly had an odd beanie-like thing on his head...