tales from an ordinary world

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...