tales from an ordinary world
2000-11-01
I don't even drive a car, but I love the smell of aircraft fuel and just the other day I was going for a walk at lunchtime past the hospital, under the helipad that straddles the road, and the helicopter was taking off. It was perfect timing. I'll take petrol smell over stale chemical hospital smell any day, but maybe it's just the memory of visiting dad in the spinal injuries unit 20 years ago, lying there with tubes up his nose, stuck amongst people who'd had some spectacular motorcycle crash, or hadn't heeded the depth warning when they dove into a pool somewhere. He was 37 then. I'm 27 now. So maybe in 2010, if we haven't all turned into an novel, it'll be my turn.
2000-11-03
The western star was just another planet, hiding up behind the tower of our town hall. I was disappointed. It was pretty, but it wasn't the real thing. It felt like I'd walked for miles. All this worrying about all the people leaving work for greener pastures, making sure everyone gets around to signing the cards, trying to find some kind of useful present for them. 3 people at once. It's over now. I'm tired, but it's not the kind of tired that easily turns into sleep, it just makes you sit there staring into 85Hz of glorious nothing.
2000-11-07
I liked just sitting in Caulfield Park for a while, I liked the idea of it. We didn't have anything better to do, nor should we have. I spent too much time fiddling with the accursed phone reprogramming caller groups, but the moment was nonetheless appreciated. Maybe with fish and chips next time.
2000-11-09
questions left unasked
it's better that way
for all concerned
too much truth will kill you
she said
in that usual way
flicking her hair to one side
and staring off into
somebody else's space
the rumours were true
I hate being able to guess
these kind of things
a limited clairvoyance
tells me it's going to
happen again
deja snooze
and I'm off in the clouds.
anywhere but here.
2000-11-09a
There was something else to say but it's been washed out by flashbacks, a graffiti'd monk staring silently as I walked past, her eyes in that upstairs café that played too much Portishead, all the melting snow in New York City that was so unkind to my Blundstones, people running to catch trams, standing on the pier watching people catching squid or learning to scuba dive, playing the Cocteau Twins in a friend's car as we passed a field full of sunflowers.
2000-11-09b
"I'd like to tell my story
before I turn into gold."
Leonard Cohen
I've been away digesting some new old music I've purchased, that arrived all at once in a box from Sydney with nicely printed covers, straight from the man. I remember when this music first Spoke To Me, and eventually I went to the music shop at uni, back when they'd let you hire CDs...I ended up buying the copies I'd hired. I can remember sitting on the 3rd floor foyer of the Ming wing, staring out at the people below, newly purchased CD in hand, while I waited for my girlfriend to finish her Russian class. It was mine, at last, and I couldn't wait to hear it. I was being fed electronic music by radio, had been for a few years, and you always feel good supporting local artistes. Some other guy, who'd done 2 cassettes of stuff, sent me a christmas card thanking me for my support one year. The funny thing was, when I finally met one of the radio show hosts in person, I found that I didn't really know what to say. We'd corresponded by other means already, but face to face was...awkward. I wonder if he's still around, yearning for Robert Schroeder's golden days.
2000-11-11
when I first met you
there was nothing
almost nothing
you wouldn't do
days spent communicating
like bees
like animals
experiences, thoughts
whatever
when I last saw you
an awkward "hello"
I couldn't wait to get away
because I knew
you didn't want to see me
lives best spent apart
it's all over
long gone
now
so stop crying
I know where you've been
you're always dying for someone else's sins.
2000-11-11a
The problem with going back and searching out old places, old memories, is that it's never quite the same. There was this nice old café I frequented back when I lived in a single bedroom flat, all by myself. My time was my own and maybe, to someone or other, I was something of a familiar sight wandering a few adjacent suburbs on the weekends. I wandered down that way in search of breakfast, lunch, something. The café moved to a bigger location a while back, and I've yet to go there often enough that it feels like home, the way the old location did. I practiced resistance by walking into shops full of consumer electronics and not buying anything. I walked, passing the shop above which I nearly rented a flat a few years back. I trammed, and stared out the window a lot much like I used to, watching the world pass me by. Eventually, I worked out that the familiar face waiting for the tram with me used to live in the flat below me, but it was too late to say hello. Besides, it's a bit much to expect to be remembered.
2000-11-14
Decisions. Do I fork out for more technology or hang onto my cash, as if some blessed event were just around the corner ? Saving's never been one of my stronger capabilities. The future, in general, just happens. There's no fun in planning.
The cruelest blow was on Monday morning, discovering that my week-old pair of sunglasses had somehow ended up with a cracked lens. All day I could hear the voices telling me off, pointing out my sheer irresponsibility. So it's hard, hard to make myself spend, when the guilt hangs over me like a black cloud.
2000-11-15
The best thing, of course, is to shut the hell up. The proper way to listen, or to give advice, is to be impartial. Don't say what you think - just stick to being logical. You'll thank yourself later. Occasionally you might spring a leak - a single corrosive word can do so much damage. A burning bridge. Instead, you choose to burn yourself slowly, on the inside. You'll never know. They'll never know. "We never knew..." But I'll always know.
2000-11-15a
I need some more of that dream guitar, the sliding, fading, slightly twangy sound that makes me sad, but gives me some kind of vague hope at the same time.
2000-11-15b
I want to sleep for a year and a day. I need to kill this endless cycle. The world used to be so different. It'll be different again, in the future. Maybe I can have a different part in it then, somehow or other. But I figure that the smell of petrol won't change, nor the smell of freshly cut grass, nor the uneasy calm before a storm.
2000-11-18
"As the ladies line their eyes
and the men make their excuses
and the talk is going cheap
I'll be smiling in my sleep"
Lloyd Cole.
It's hard to know what to say about other people's weddings. We didn't attend the reception, that was a closed affair for a select few, but many people gathered at a bar in the inner city to celebrate a friend's passing into another stage of life. When we first got there, I was too conscious of being in a crowded room with too many other people I didn't know well enough - maybe if I'd been a bit more sociable at all those parties he'd had over the years, I'd have felt better. Of course, over time, things became more relaxed anyway. Speeches, hinting at pressure from the family to continue the tree's growth. The groom seemed to have a good time, as one would hope - things start to change from now on - not changing for the worse, just changing. No longer in charge of just your own destiny, you have other priorities. People reminisce over old 80's tunes, and eventually we escape into the night, fast food on the way home, thinking, wondering what the future holds.
2000-11-20
Stars in their skies tonight, a cloud in my eye, a penny for your thoughts my good man ? Give me a dollar and I'll tell you about the world.
You can drive all night and all day. Running from your inner child, or something. We'll be here when you return, because there's nowhere else to go.
I don't wanna grow up. I haven't finished with the world yet.
2000-11-21
2 turntables in their lounge room, and a vinyl collection that took me back 10 years - the first Stone Roses album, both My Bloody Valentines, a heap of Primal Scream 12 inches...
Menthols, beer, and a late night taxi home from the suburb I grew up in.
2000-11-27
The lack of activity here mirrors an increase in my directionlessness, and a decrease in my ability to make random life decisions. Observe :
It's the perfect weather for Gin and Tonic, Gin and Lime, Gin and just about anything. If only I felt like it - I haven't touched Gin for about a month at least. One more inner tide has turned, pointing my tastes in other directions...at the moment, the needle's still spinning.
I'm having one of those "it's time to change my wardrobe" moments. Again, I'm not sure what direction to head in, there's just the feeling that it's time for a change.
I bleached my hair, expecting that I'd be able to decide what colour I wanted to dye it. Ha !
Soon, soon.
2000-11-30
"If this is paradise, I wish I had a lawnmower."
Talking Heads.
There's nothing quite like being asked "Are you ok ? You've been very quiet this week..." to send you off on another self-inquisitory journey. Which came first, the mood or being asked if I was in that mood ?
