tales from an ordinary world

2001-04-01

Somewhere in the inner suburbs, we're waiting for our food. I'm sinking into my chair, looking at the Random Old Books scattered across the mantlepiece of the fireplace. At an adjacent table, a girl orders a soy latté. Over the slightly-too-loud voices a familiar voice is singing, and by the time I work out that it's Cat Power somebody mercilessly rips it off mid-song to fire up that new P. J. Harvey album. It'll do, it'll do, I guess.

While my mind's wandering, I ponder the concept of the Perfect Day that my uncle was talking about last night at my cousin's wedding. "She's just working out that there's no such thing," he said of his youngest daughter.

Down the road, I make a pilgrimage to Raoul Records and follow a few leads (four, to be exact). If I stop to think on days like this, I'll truly believe my CD habit's spiralling out of control.