tales from an ordinary world

2002-09-02

Coathanger wire and polyethylene twist in the wind. I'm on the way home, it's dry cleaning day, and for the short walk home from the corner shops holding a couple of coats and pairs of pants, life's pretty good - maybe the wind's drying up my runny nose, even. I've been cleaning out parts of my room that had stayed untouched for years - it's refreshing, though it's not quite enough.

2002-09-05

I saw them all standing on the pavement, partying outside the new orange-coloured corner shop, gas heater towers protecting them from the elements. Cars slowed down to see what was going on, and passers-by stared into the shop, wondering what it was all about. Just down the street, an Indonesian Student Association had booked out a restaurant, and people were milling around the front of there. I dodged all of this one person at a time in my usual swift-but-awkward manner, and went on my way. People tried to find a park. People hung around either group trying to look good, but also celebrating (perhaps) the beginning of spring, and of 20-degree days. My food tasted like the best thing I'd eaten in a week or two, and afterwards I sat outside for a while to continue watching the people hanging around these two events, before moving up the street, and upstairs.

2002-09-06

I'm coming up the stairs when I hear that's entertainment playing in the party room. It's not part of the same old memories I share with these people who've either turned 30 in the not too distant past, or will be soon, but it's a memory from similar old times.

2002-09-07

In the Thai restaurant up the road, she asks "have you lost weight ?" and points to my food, ready to pick up.

In the bottle shop, while I pay for my bottles of lemon juice cordial and soda water, the guy chats about the weather while tears for fears' head over heels starts up on the radio - "...i wanted to be with you alone and talk about the weather...".

A little later, out in the backyard darkness under the Southern Cross, another smaller cross of white light flies across the sky. When it's gone, I'm left with the sound of the wind, and the rumble of the tumble dryer in the kitchen behind me.

2002-09-08

"we are constantly on trial
it's a way to be free."
smog.

I place restrictions upon myself all the time, hoping that each little thing will make me a better person. I feel as if my lack of discipline is, or will be, my undoing - I've been too fortunate, I've had it too easy, and it'll all catch up with me before too long.

I want to do the right thing, but it always seems better to maintain my silence than to annoy, offend or upset. "In order to get along, you have to go along," and so I do. I seem to have become some kind of human sponge - I mop up people's worries, fears and pain - but now I need somebody to come and squeeze me out, so the cycle can start over.

There is no end.
There is no "afterwards".

I wish I could keep this up.

2002-09-12

The burden of various responsibilities is casting a bit of a shadow at the moment. I feel busy, and a little rushed. Not as much time for music as usual. North Melbourne streets this evening are traffic, street lights and darkness. I need to walk for a while, to ground myself. When I reach the station and hop on the 7pm to the south-south-east, the carriage is awash with laptop or PDA users - a telltale glow mixed with a constant screen stare. It's over soon enough, I feel uncomfortable contributing to that sort of thing, though I did. I could tram home from the station, but walking's all I can allow myself now. No stopping for food, either, it'll ruin my momentum - I can eat when I get home, though my mouth is dry. When the white tower's in view, all lit up in the night, I know I'm nearly home.

2002-09-15

Despite the return of forgotten weather I'd committed to indoor pursuits, so I walked up the hill while I waited for the next tram. A cyclist huffed and puffed up to the traffic lights while cars effortlessly glided past. My achievement was minor, but it was the kind of day where you could feel good about having done almost anything.

Last week's hurdles are out of the way (at least, I think so), so I went and bought a few more geek bits in order to create more work for myself - it wasn't just post-shopping guilt this time, it was also a sense of "what the hell am I doing ?", only too late.

Later, in both of the local shops I wander into, I see a schoolkid I remember seeing on the morning tram working there. I don't know if they'd recognize me, but they seem evasive, and somebody else serves me instead, like the perky american-accented girl with the bright pink nail polish (life imitating stereotype ?).

2002-09-19

In a defeatist moment I let the already-packed tram pass me by rather than try to squeeze on, but it turned out another was just a minute behind it - I almost had the whole thing to myself. Somewhere closer to work, a guy got on and asked me where to get off for the hospital - it was his first chemotherapy session, and he was understandably nervous. I wished him well, but what can you do ?

Damp-pavemented lunch in nearby hotel, the one that's staffed by the girl with the oddly-coloured lipstick and the accent I just can't place. They're venting again, and I let myself tune out a little, staring into the table while voices pierce the air around me - a snicker from that side, or a shrill laugh from behind.

Baby, it's cold outside, but I don't want to go straight home, so a quick Balaclava coffee after dropping into Second Spin does the trick. The Hungry Ghosts CD I bought seems to fit the weather well - dark, slow and pensive.

2002-09-20

long time no see, an ex-co-worker i never knew quite enough, but like enough to catch up with when the others do so. the bar's too loud, the people are wrong - to borrow his description of the croft institute the other night, it's full of Beautiful People. i'm just not dressed for this, and even if i was i wouldn't pass for it. i'm drinking the wrong kind of drink, too. shame on me. but over the noise, conversation drifts between the four of us. eventually one leaves, as another joins. we continue for a while, then wander out into the night, asking ourselves why we didn't just sit outside.

2002-09-21

People are eating raisin toast for breakfast in the street cafe, spreading the butter on thick while shoppers pass them by. It's a nice day, and so I make my way to the small pier for the first time since before winter hit.

A rescue boat noisily speeds off in a large arc around the lighthouse, out of sight. Across the suddenly silent beach, somebody's phone does a familiar morse code "s-m-s" beep sequence. Now I can hear a man singing. I can hear aircraft. Screech of traffic. Squeal of roller-coaster riders. Lazy conversations. People talking in chinese, on either side of me.

I remember when we sat right here on the concrete part of the pier - it was a warm December evening, and we'd bought some small cakes in Acland St while we revelled in the thrill of the unknown.

There's still time before my haircut appointment, so I wander across the shopping strip and into the park and lie on the grass, listening to the birds, and the songs that pop into my head.

2002-09-22

Sunday morning
I went walking
to see what I could see.

Well, I walked. What else could I do ? I had to exercise off this feeling of powerlessness, so I set off at 10am, with no particular destination in mind. Along Glenferrie Road, High Street, Chapel and Church Streets, Bridge Road, Hoddle St, Victoria St (for a lunch break) and Victoria Parade, Smith St, Johnston St and Brunswick St. It doesn't seem like much, I suppose, but never underestimate the healing power of a good walk.

The journey ends near My Beautiful Laundrette, in Brunswick St, as I'm walking back towards the city in order to make my way home. It's 3pm. There's a tram coming. It'll do.

2002-09-24

I needed to spend some Quality Time staring at the sea, so I took off for the large St Kilda pier. Loners or couples scattered the walkway - there were no more than two people at any time. Budding photographers, joggers or Young Lovers. Find a steady rock, and sit for a while. Look out north-west, to Williamstown, the Newport tower, the curl of the Westgate bridge and the Spirit of Tasmania. Spokes of sunlight push through the clouds above all this, but the wind asserts itself, suggesting I move on to somewhere more pleasant.

I don't understand the twists and turns of the jukebox in my head, first stuck on a Steve Earle song because of the drawl in his voice as he sings a few lines, but now a Golden Rough song of post-love, of "loose ends and new best friends".

Tramming inland, I eat while the light fades, watching big cars park and the people coming in and out of the bagel shop across the street. I thought I'd be a little more settled after the walk, but there's an itch I can't reach just yet.

2002-09-25

It's possible to have a good day at work, if the tide's right. A manageably insane rush, mixed with the restful moment when a nice old Will Oldham track turns up on random play. Moments later you're back into it again, your hands deep in the technology rush.

2002-09-26

In an odd, idle moment I look back and wonder forward. Sometimes I worry about not being able to see the future, other days I just ask myself "so, what's next ?" I have the usual assortment of vague desires and minor plans to pick and choose from, though they already seem to know the order in which they'll descend into formation - a pattern before my eyes. There is an illusion of choice, the promise of all those little roads that I can't really take. Maybe I'll just have to retreat to my dreams, and see what they tell me.

2002-09-27

Walking home past a few lo-fi-decorated restaurants, I see two people inside gesturing to one another over their meals. It's Grand Final Eve, and there's a tiny sense of jubilation in the air, in the pubs and bars of Melbourne.

2002-09-29

It's another Sunday full of guilt over Saturday's spending and indulgence in vice and noise. I feel like I have to pull back the reins today, to avoid any further incursion. I didn't expect to hear Calexico being played in City Cafe, but the laidback soothing tones (it was their cover of American Music Club's Chanel No. 5) calm my anxiety a little. My bagel toppled sideways, so I went for the knife-and-fork option today. I was never sure of the "correct" eating method, though it's always more satisfying to eat it with one's hands, whereupon you get to enjoy the bread while it's still hot (at least for the first half).

The day was full of odd little occurrences - I saw a car speed by with a license plate saying "jalan2" (as in "jalan jalan" - "to walk" in Indonesian), which seemed like an odd thing to put on a car - maybe he hates walking ? A little later while walking home, a man struggled along the pavement on the other side of the road on his two crutches - a girl was walking the other way but when she saw him, she moved out and walked along the edge of the road rather than passing him on the pavement. This disturbed me. I caught two exhibitions in the local art gallery, one of which was a set of photographs of a guy's mother in law. All of the photos of her were out of focus (though the background was always nice and sharp), as if it were some kind of cry for help.