tales from an ordinary world

2000-02-01

"oh I've tasted life and I'm ready"
Gene

The guys at work decided we should go out to lunch to celebrate my imminent holday - it'd been a while since we'd all gone to lunch anyway, so any excuse was good. Vietnamese. Very nice, too. Orange walls, minimal decor. Yeah. Cool.

...and now I'm in the shade of Degraves St, looking at the window of the Christian Science reading room with a nice cold beer (since it's a warm day and all). The unsung masses are hurrying to the railway station on their way home. Shopping bags, briefcases, heels, runners, sunglasses, hats, mobile phones...all a blur...

On the tram home was a face that looked so much like an old friend that I had to stop myself staring for too long and reminiscing, looking for the same expressions. Straining to hear the voice in case they sounded the same too. Still, I guess I didn't really want to find out - it was far too self-indulgent and silly of me.

2000-02-02

My high school's organizing a 10-year reunion for our year. Traditionally in all those US sit-coms, people get really nervous about them, thinking they need to play up their life since then, pretending they've become hugely successful. Personally I couldn't really give a damn - in hindsight, I'm a lot less bitter about school than perhaps I thought I might be. All those things that might've pissed me off at the time just don't seem to matter much these days - it's all part of life experience^TM. I'm curious to see what happened to one or two of them. I can't think of anybody in particular to whom I'd still hold a grudge about anything. It's all so long ago...

I've been walking around like it's my last day on earth. Everything seems distant, like I'm back in that damn bubble again. A quick breakfast (it was 11:30, and they didn't do lunch until midday), then a slow wander home to do all those final things, like trying to think of a witty message to put on my phone, then giving up and just doing a boring one. Ringing up Mavis in Singapore to wish her a happy birthday. Wondering how much stuff I really need to take. Re-dyeing my hair. Waiting to go...

So yeah. See you in the USA. Or something.

2000-02-05

It's quite a nice place. In some ways it just seems like a another big city - my nostalgia for a lot of the places here maybe isn't what it should be. But I'm glad I came along.

I was told to expect it to be really cold, but it's not unbearable or anything, so far. Perhaps the worst is yet to come ?

In any case, I can't help feeling like I'm on the brink. Of something so far unknown. There's something I ought to be doing. Etc. Etc. On the other hand, I always feel like this, I guess. The great unknown's lurking around the corner. And I'm not doing anything about it.

I'm trying not to regret leaving my cd player behind, but it's hard. Hearing other people's music everywhere I go, but never mine...

FAO Schwarz, besides having plush walruses, Alfred E. Neumann dolls and other oddities, had subway train t-shirts. You could get one for R, A, and I think one other. I wanted an F train t-shirt, but no luck :(

If I had the willpower, it'd be tempting just to disappear, to get on a bus at the huge bus station, and just go...somewhere...anywhere. The eternal fantasy of mine to start a new life...

For now, though, it's time to keep wandering around New York. Maybe I'll find it by accident, somehow. One can only hope.

2000-02-07

The other day when we walked out of this net cafe, Haiyan saw Patrick Stewart walk down the street. I saw the back of his head, so I'm going on good faith that it wasn't just a body double or something.

Last night we went to some of the film festival stuff, which turned out to be pretty good, and afterwards wandered down to the after party sort of thing which was downstairs from the Chelsea Hotel. We sat in the corner with our drinks and watched the goings-on. It was nice, dark and fairly cosy.

I'm beginning to like it here - while walking calf-deep in a room full of talcum powder as part of a Cildo Meireles contemporary artwork, it suddenly hit me that well, yeah, I do like this place. You could walk forever, and not leave the city. The subway's real. The accents are real. The F train exists (and I got a t-shirt even). Haiyan reckons that by the end of the 3 weeks here, she won't want to leave. I'm still not sure - I think I'd be happy with any new city to explore, but I know this one will take a lot longer to sift through. We haven't even left Manhattan yet...

There's still times though, when I'm alone, that I get assaulted by things related to recent news that I shouldn't really be thinking about. I'm glad I have so much to distract me...

2000-02-08

"My head is stuck on something precious,
let me know if you're coming down to land..."
Duran Duran

It's a good music morning here in Gotham City - the local cafe we ducked into was playing Duran Duran, in amongst its colorful decor, ken and barbies on the male and female toilets, free gay newspapers, much like Brunswick St back in Melbourne.

The net cafe's also playing Duran Duran. Weird. Memories...Rio - what a song, especially towards the end...

Yesterday I moped around 8th avenue, sitting in Starbucks reflecting upon how much I miss Mavis - 6 weeks without any physical contact is sapping my energy.

2000-02-10

"As I walk these empty streets
suddenly I realise nobody knows me"
Johnny Cash

27 today. Or yesterday, depending upon time zones and all that sort of stuff. In a lame attempt to try and scape the month-long self indulgence (such as it is), I've resolved to spend the day birthday present shopping for other people. It's a nice idea, if only I was any good at finding good presents - my general paranoia of "I don't know what to get them, and they'll hate me for getting them something crap" tends to get in the way, and I can't think properly about it.

But today's the day to try. My friends are worth it, even if they never really know...

2000-02-12

Gregory looks a bit like a guy I went to high school with. Stefan looks very vaguely like someone I knew at uni. Both of them are much cooler than either of the people they remind me of, though. Maura doesn't remind me of anyone, but she's still cool. Seemingly by random chance we ended up at the March records 8th anniversary gig, which I'd vaguely been interested in going to anyway. It's funny how things seem to just work out like that.

After the others left, and once One Star finished playing, Haiyan and I slightly fuzzily wandered out to head home. Haiyan wanted some pie. We quested forth, and she ended up settling for an apple turnover while I indulged in a KFC moment. As we walked to the subway, I asked Haiyan "do you ever get a sudden flash where you wonder 'how the hell did I end up eating KFC in the middle of the night in New York ?'". She replied "well, I more wonder why it is that I'm not doing this every night."

2000-02-13

While Haiyan (presumably) went back to the Whitney to finish what we had to hurry through yesterday, I hopped on the N train and went all the way to Coney Island. All the happy-season stuff was closed - all the rides and stuff, apart from a single carousel undercover on the main street. As I walked up to the beach, I could see the burnt out remains of a rollercoaster assembly. There weren't all that many people around - the wind was pretty cold, and out on the beach a group of kids were getting in the water and running around in a circle with hands joined together. A guy bummed a smoke off me and said "What the hell are those crazy people doing swimming today ? Look at 'em". I walked back down to the station, past an empty lot where, by the wire gate, someone had dumped heaps of clothes. Amongst them all lay a broken typewriter with half of its lovely green keys missing...

2000-02-16

One of the more impossible things I've seen in my life happened this morning - an ambulance trying to make its way through Manhattan traffic.

There's an odd vibe in the air today. People seem slightly more on edge. We walk a bit faster, avoiding the people. Up the street, a heap of Kozmo delivery guys gather on the street with their nice branded coats and bright orange bags, ready to deliver...whatever...within the hour. We saw a delivery guy on the subway this morning, with a slightly nervous, hunted look in his eyes. Perhaps time was running out ?

There's so much I want to do, in various arty kind of ways. I just don't know where to start. And it's hard to focus on one particular idea at a time. I need something to clarify it all, much like one of those Zen bells - A clear piercing sound, that melts it all away.

Dip my head in the water. I want to breathe anew. Let me see with new eyes, feel with new antennae. But leave my ears - my ears will stay the same, always.

2000-02-22

"I'm a neon sign and I stay open all the time"
Elliot Smith

And so I'm back to face the numerous things I was lucky to be able to avoid for a few weeks. I've definitely changed, but it's hard to identify exactly how so. I'm more restless, certainly - uncomfortable with the State of Things, even though I'm glad to be back. Having Mavis back here definitely helps.

So what now ?

2000-02-24

In the afternoon heat, the passengers on the tram seem to be wilting. I wander listlessly around Second Spin in Balaclava, knowing I can't afford anything for the foreseeable future. When I get back on the tram, some kid with a spraycan tags the wall next to his seat, then triumphantly hops off at the next stop. An old woman talks loudly at her husband in Yiddish, or Russian, or something. Thankfully they soon get off, leaving me to my blissful dejected silence.

I miss you like an old train. My disorientation grows with every heartbeat. What am I doing ? What am I fucking doing ? There'll be better times than these, but the journey toward them seems so full of insurmountable things. Just what is that I need to do, anyway ?

On a warm sunny evening in Melbourne Town, nobody wants to hear you scream.

Take me home.

2000-02-27

It's been a week already. Last Sunday morning I was laughing maniacally to myself as the taxi drove down the Tulla, past Essendon Airport. For reasons completely unknown, I had a Fleetwood Mac song in my head (You can go your own way, or whatever it's called). The driver decided to head through the city rather than taking the flash new CityLink tollway, and as we idled down King St through the edge of the city centre, I could tell I'd been changed.

Apparently I'm now supposed to spend all my time dreaming of New York, and how much more wonderful it was than Melbourne. Unfortunately, I really don't think Melbourne's all that bad. Haiyan seemed quite taken with New York and reckoned she wouldn't want to leave. I said "it'll be different when you're living here all on your own..."

Last night we went to see Stephen Cummings performing at a pub way over in Yarraville. It was a nice set, and I nervously took a few photos, hoping the flash wasn't bothering people too much. Occasionally a huge truck would roar past, adding a nice touch to some of the quieter songs. "Evil" Graham Lee looks even less evil in person than on all those Triffids and Blackeyed Susans record covers...

2000-02-29

In a wonderful moment of serendipity I found a font for my Palm V that, at least for a second or two, was so beautiful I could almost cry. Later, with the geek energy still running hot in my veins for the day, I upgraded our router at home, bringing it into the age of the lowly Pentium. This means of course that I can no longer brag that "our router at home's just a 486", but I was over that a long time ago. It's not so often that I get so enthusiastic about doing all this kind of stuff anymore, as I'm usually busy struggling to find some other kind of meaning in the things I do (or should be doing).

I finally met Mavis' about-to-be housemate. He was playing the Lightning Seeds and Hooverphonic in his car, which makes him pretty cool.

I must cut down on my use of commas. What if there a world shortage ? I'd be hung, drawn and quartered for sure...

Hello, Mr Cointreau. Haven't seen you 'round these parts in a while. I've got a nice glass here you should meet. And some ice...

My mind is a phonograph, only I can't find the needle.