tales from an ordinary world

2002-05-12

There are nail clippings on the platform, as I do the usual person-at-the-station thing of avoiding all eye contact with other passengers, and keeping myself equidistant from people on either side of me. everybody knows this is nowhere.

Once I'm on the train, I discover it's an express. We speed past the next few stations, people standing and watching us pass, as if time had stopped outside the carriage.

At Parliament station, I make my way up the platform to the south end. Near the platform exit, a long-haired couple sit and wait for their train. A small white cat on a leash sits in front of them, seemingly content with its predicament.

Just before stepping on the escalator, I notice a photo sticker on the ground, the size of a postage stamp. A chinese couple look happy enough, without actually smiling. I thought about picking it up, but couldn't imagine what I'd do with it.

I make my way to Brunswick Street, finding no joy. No more CDs for me, not yet. In a Japanese restaurant on Smith St I face the doorway, its top half blocked with 5-centimetre long small rods (like a beaded curtain, only they weren't beads. You know what I mean). Halfway through my meal, I'm startled by a large woman who sweeps the curtain to one side and stares at me for a good ten seconds before moving on.

At a cafe across the road, my streetside table's made of coloured floor tiling, and I can hear the speakers inside playing Bob Marley as I sit down. I experimentally order a piece of cake with my coffee, but this only manages to prove beyond any further doubt that my dessert appetite just isn't what it once was. I feel guilty watching the senseless waste sitting in front of me while various down-and-out-looking people pass me by.

I set off toward Hoddle st for the bus. The clouds gathered overhead, making a sad little street even moreso. Naked mannequins left posing in upstairs windows (on more than one occasion, too). An old bus left to perish in a front yard. Power stations behind brick walls. On one of the side street, a sign said "wrong way go back." Looking further up the lonely street, this seemed like good advice.

At Elsternwick, I made an overseas call, standing in front of a small park where three magpies fought on the ground. Maybe my loneliness didn't show, it's hard to tell. Rain spotted my black suede shoes. Shops were closed. Nothing to do apart from the rest of yesterday's shopping (one can only carry so much).

Despite all this, I'm still feeling strangely confident about things. No more "I'll never get out of these blues alive". I'm lonely, but happy enough. I never thought I'd make it here.