tales from an ordinary world
2001-09-01
I had a bagel for breakfast, and sat in the window so I had a good view of the world. Woman parks VW polo, and opens umbrella over the car before she gets out. The merest thought of getting a drop of rain on oneself must be too horrible to contemplate. Tall redhead boy walks in and out of the cafe, holding under one arm a magazine entitled "Astral Travel", still in its loose plastic wrapping.
An old Go-Betweens poster. An old Triffids poster. That New Order CD, and a couple of second-hand Australian ones. A second-hand copy of the last Yo La Tengo CD, to replace my scratched one. The Waco Brothers + Sally Timms are coming. There's a new Solex album due out soon. The guy in Second Spin gave me a free Spiderbait CD, and the little cardboard box they all came in. So much to listen to, so little time.
2001-09-03
Dinner smells drift across four lanes of traffic and up to the window I'm looking out of while the tram waits at the lights. We speed past blocks of flats with open curtains, lights in different shades of yellow, TV reflections, people looking out their windows, waiting for something to happen. I don't feel like sitting down this evening. And there's a phone call I need to make.
It's true, I miss her voice. Her near-perpetual smile. The nice feeling of running my hand across her forearm.
2001-09-04
On the way home at lunchtime, I saw a ghost, an echo, at the tramstop. Previous lives, or at least, a reminder of one. In the chair with my mouth open, he seems to say everything three times, presumably to make it true. Scrape, poke, rinse, spit. Afterwards, I take my discman for a walk around the block, tuning out from the people and the bikes and the cars. I don't really stand out today in my black and white clothes, and normal head.
Current Listening :
Blood Red River, by The Scientists.
2001-09-06
is this the end of the year of silence ?
A couple of music videos : The all-star dance. A man falls through the clouds. Bob the mosaic. What a mudpack (and I didn't realise he'd look a little like Mr Malkmus...). Eat that microphone - look angry ! This time, it's the disaffected look - straight face, don't move the mouth much, mixed in with stop-motion props. England (Bobby) meets Vegas. Serious dub guys. Sad little spaceman (how could I tell ? The music told me). More wacky adventures by our favourite chums. The jealous artist, the girl (with optional fur coat), and the two guys. Red haired girl in her little red car, singalong road trip. It's glam all over again, but this time in a fluorescent corridor ! Historical footage from one of the hardest working guys in rockTM. A life-size game of "Operation!". Terror in a Japanese mental hospital. and more...
2001-09-08
I make these days up as I go along, down windy streets of tramlines and cafes and shops. There's at least 4 different places I can get off this tram, I'm keeping them all in mind, weighing each option. A bit of back and forth, a bit of needless waiting, a bit of awkwardness. A copy of Throbbing Gristle's utterly seminal 20 Jazz Funk Greats shows up in the Punk section of some new shop. I'd love to buy a new pair of 501's, and another Ben Sherman shirt, and that Greenaway film in the DVD shop, but I feel like I should wait. Two Japanese girls enter the old bookshop and ask for help finding a book, "something funny". I was looking for something to read, anything, so I'd have something to do once I found somewhere to sit but all of my usual cafes seem full beyond my comfort factor, and by the time I get home I realise I haven't eaten.
Current Listening :
a couple of things by the Mekons.
2001-09-11
I'm not normally here at this time of week, and I can still hear the little voice telling me I should be at school (I mean, work), even though it's all arranged, allowed, and whatever. I'd love to hang around, but I have to be at the dentist.
2001-09-12
It would be churlish to think that I could say something of value - I'm lost for words at the best of times. Please don't misinterpret my silence - my thoughts are with you all.
2001-09-14
It's hard to feel like going over to Brunswick St these days, but a last-minute friend's gigwatch says the Underground Lovers are on at the Evelyn, and there's just enough energy to satisfy this particular whim. For every gig I make it to, there's about 5 (or more) for which I can't be stuffed. Then there's the ones I hear about too late. Or forget about. But in any case, here I am, at what turned out to be one of their 10th birthday gigs. There's no mistaking Glenn Bennie's human guitar loops, there's no mistaking Vincent Giarrusso's...er...dancing style, behind his little synth boxes. It all bounces along at a pretty fast pace, faster than on the albums, one or two happy people throwing fists in the air screaming "yairr !", and at one stage it seems as if the drummer's frantically trying to kill something up the back of the stage. Later, girl-with-hunted-look appears on stage. Merida, I think. I wasn't quite expecting that. But I did know that the gig wasn't over until they played one particular song...
2001-09-17
Haircut at 9, cool air, sunny day, schoolkids on the tram, somebody in a duffle coat (I didn't know they still existed), traffic offenders up and down the street, and the metronomic sound of a traffic light telling us to get going. A few guys walk past the cafe window, one of them saying "look, smoking and comfy chairs !". Eggs Benedict is a highly recommended way to start the week.
Bleach-time again (see new photo). The first hairdresser has me sussed out, once she finds out I've done most of the Fudge-brand colours already. "Do you want a magazine to read ? The only guys ones we have are Ralph, and FHM." "Nah, they're not really me." "Yeah, I didn't think so." Later, one of the other (presumably less intuitive) girls drops the two aforementioned items in front of me. They sit there menacingly, random girls glaring at me from the covers. I drop my towel on top of them and stare into space instead, hoping they'll just go away.
2001-09-18
I'm sitting on the tram, turning into St Kilda Junction when I look over at the top of the book she's reading next to me, and the half-sentence "is that a Camus in your pocket, or ... ?" pops into my head and I giggle, then look around self-consciously, feeling embarrassed about thinking of something so lame and yet laughing out aloud about it.
2001-09-22
A small subsection of footy-goers on the tram, all male, all talking about Really Interesting things like whether the tramdriver "loves to snort a vindaloo", and "blah blah anal this" and "anal that" . I can feel my IQ dribbling out of my ears. Stop it.
Walking down Block Place, answering the phone, waving to somebody I recognize, trying not to run into a waiter or fall over chairs, everything's happening at once, just for a moment, and I missed the shop, I had to double back and head upstairs to find this new CD. Australian post-punk from the late 70's/early 80's. People like Ron Rude (unfortunately I didn't make it to his play about these very times, that one of my co-workers had recommended), Essendon Airport, the Moodists, etc. And I'm back at Degraves Espresso, just once, for the first time in ages, like it was 1997 all over again. Still thinking about people pulling boats over mountains, and the dream I had (last night ?) with a cameo from the old friend I never managed to catch up with in another city, a while back.
Just like the other times, she's happy to see me in her shop. I guess I'm an easy customer - she gets to make me try on a heap of clothes and I walk out with maybe a 3rd of them every time. I've never really felt like a target market (or a dress-up doll) until recently. But I can only afford to visit this place once every few months...
2001-09-24
A couple of old voices jumped out of the universal consciousness. How unexpected. How pleasant. How welcome.
2001-09-25
Do the locomotion. Maybe they could tell I had it in my head, and it wouldn't come out, despite my best efforts. When you travel light, this is what happens. I should never have left my CD player at home. And I don't know where it came from, either. Something to do with that BMX Bandits CD ? Working through fog, walking through darkness, looking for some grass so I can wipe the mud off my shoe. But I'm feeling quite calm, about my inability to decide when I'm going to Singapore, and other pressing things. I don't know what changed, but I'm calm.
2001-09-29
6 posters for $7. 78 songs on a CD, 'cause they're all a minute or less. Numbers, numbers, numbers. I couldn't find the Low CD I was after, but I ended up with one by the Art of Fighting instead.
Current Listening :
Everydaydream, by Died Pretty.
The Invisible Man, by Mark Eitzel.
Rain on Lens, by Smog.
the Contino sessions, by Death in Vegas.
in the fishtank, by Low + Dirty Three.
Standards, by Tortoise.
2001-09-30
I'm not really looking forward to buying sandals - they're just not me. But I circled, looked at them, went away, came back, looked, and went away again. I'm just not ready yet.
Current Listening :
Looks like a Russian, by Sodastream.
Open, by Cowboy Junkies.
Honey Steel's Gold, by Ed Kuepper.
Atardecer, by Friends of Dean Martinez.
