tales from an ordinary world

2003-03-05

"the future is now." And so it is. I've moved house across town, to somewhere that's distantly familiar from small visits nearly a decade ago. It's different to live here, of course. New rituals, new routines. Standing on the front porch in the evening light, mouthing hello to somebody walking their dog. Trying to make myself useful. Frightened of consequences. Worrying about what the future holds. I walked for 3 and a half hours, travelling north. Another time I took the bus east. I've yet to travel west, but it won't be long. So many new streets to explore, while I fight the feeling of being a mere interloper. I choose to be here. I hope you'll accept me.

2003-03-07

New beginnings, I sit and type at the black box. It's an open road, but how to read this new journey ? How much of myself to invest ? I just don't know what to do with myself, but that's an old song already.

2003-03-08

The mere anticipation of crowds gets me on edge this evening. Crosstown traffic, a jumble of unhappy people arguing with the tram driver or sounding horns. But I'm still on time.

Resist the urge to stay angry, to spend, to eat, to lapse into boredom or loneliness. Keep moving. Stay hungry.

2003-03-08b

Transfixed by arrangements of wood, metal and plastic in rooms of questionable achievability. I just need a desk.

2003-03-09

Empty shopping strip on a Sunday morning, apart from a few wanderers. Good French Toast, but. Fight the rain in my second-choice shoes. All these new places that don't really look different, they're just new arrangements of the same old shops. But perhaps it's the weather talking. I've moved from one monster suburb to another. Walking distance to a racecourse, both times, though I've never been.

2003-03-14

The future's coming, and it's a different direction every time. Jump on the train, see the occasional fluorescent lights streaming binary messages to your forehead. Feel the wrath of my bombast. Compromise is a forgotten art - just you watch. Stand on the platform, inventing situations, feeling the guilt wash over you because nothing really bad has happened to you, has it ? Turn up the music, drown out the newspapers. And don't stop moving.

2003-03-16

He seemed nice enough despite his choice of words when shouting at some P-plater who cut him off and gave him the finger. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that, I know. I can't help myself."

Later, reaching home, he said to me "don't trust taxi drivers in Melbourne. Some of them...," he trailed off.

2003-03-18

Idle hands worry about the future of the world.
Idle hands worry about the future of their world, too.
Idle hands wonder when and if their girlfriend's really coming back.
Idle hands can't help thinking about what their housemate said he saw on a tram on Grand Prix weekend - a couple of drunken sports fans saying "hey, let's go find a junkie and beat the crap out of him ! har har har !"
Idle hands potter around the North Melbourne shops around midday looking for something and somewhere to eat, but settle on the tried and true cafe rather than any of the others.
Idle hands wonder what's next.

2003-03-18b

"when you have no-one
no-one can hurt you."
Palace Brothers.

At least ten centimetres of space around my rug makes the difference, provides a feeling of space. The free-standing lamp, rather than the ceiling light, casts shadows to the south-west. The computer lurks in the corner, but the noise of the fan gives it away. A loose arrangement of CD racks against one wall. A clothes rack. Twenty-five shirts hang from the picture rail, surrounding me. A presumably mock fireplace cuts a chunk out of one corner of the room

Well. It's home.

2003-03-21

So many voices on the tram, an endless stream of bravado. Small breeze in cafe alley - winter had arrived overnight. A voice behind me says "this is what I think of when I think of Melbourne." I want to object to this, though - Melbourne's more than just a handful of alleys with cafes stuck in them - good things and bad things abound. Take it or leave it.

Winding my way through yet-to-be-finished entryways towards the new large furniture store, I notice I always seem to feel second best when I pass by other people - I get caught up feeling like they're allowed to look confident or happy or indignant. But somehow, I'm not entitled to any of these feelings, because I somehow haven't earnt it yet.

Night time, and a post-film drink. She explains how she fell together with somebody, followed by the inevitable falling out. When she criticises the guy I'm seeing myself in this, noticing how I've made these same mistakes on either side. It's not quite an epiphany, but I don't know why I didn't notice until now. Sometimes it takes a couple of beers to be able to understand. It's hard to cure somebody of their post-relationship cynicism, summed up neatly by a line from a new Songs: Ohia song, which goes "if heaven's really coming back, I hope it has a heart attack". Cue pedal steel.

2003-03-22

Late morning rain and the Go-Betweens. There's a hole in the clouds now, just across the street and above the shops - a little doughnut-hole of blue. Cow-print car seat covers in front of me. A handful of church spires up and down the street. Night and day, night and day, night and day. Somewhere along the walk home, I notice somebody had scrawled "I don't want your money, I just want your love" into some concrete.

A familiar voice from long ago on the tram. The name comes to me in an instant though I don't know why, and they don't recognise me which is good, because I'd have nothing to say. But I remembered the constant rhythm in the voice towards the end of each sentence. It just seemed to stick.

2003-03-23

"Well I make it alright
from Monday morning 'till Friday night
Oh, those lonely weekends..."
Charlie Rich.

Wake up humming Lonely Weekends again. A slow walk south to North, headphones full of border stories.

In the cafe I take pains to avoid sitting right next to the touchy-feely couple, though it means taking a bigger table (a sin when there's only one of me). If this is my only dilemma for the day I'll be a happy man.

2003-03-23b

I know two girls who laugh all the time, always starting with an "a" rather than an "h". Eventually I discovered that neither of them are quite as happy as their "ahahahaha"s suggest. But what can you do ?

2003-03-24

It's lo-fi decor for dinner tonight, plastic on the table and I'm stuck behind a neon sign watching too few people pass by the window. I'm looking for a sign of hope. I'm looking for a smile. I'm looking for a reason and it's hard to find one on a lonely Monday evening. The sun's just popped over the horizon, and it shows on their faces - a little more huddled, a little more nervous. There's things out there - bad memories or bad futures. Meanwhile, I'm distracting myself with worry because I forgot to bring a handkerchief, and now my nose is running. Hopefully this'll be about as bad as it gets.

2003-03-28

Blurry light surrounds me. He asks why I'm buying a round for the whole group. "Well, it's what you do. You have to give to get, and sometimes you don't get, but you've gotta believe you will. Or something."

2003-03-29

I can feel it creeping around the fringes of my daily existence, waiting for a chance to pounce. It'll come without any further warning. I just know that, one day fairly soon, it'll all be different. I don't feel ready but I never feel ready. I'm hoping it'll be kind to me.

2003-03-29b

"If I try to tell you how i feel
I'm scared I might disappear."
the mekons.

Look out the back of the tram - a cluster of lamplights below the stars. What exactly was I doing now ? A quick dinner before a night out. In the failing light at the tram stop, the dirty blue sky and its large, lone cloud seemed borrowed from a dusty lounge room painting. People were moving, laughing, going somewhere. I was standing still, again. Just this afternoon I'd stood in the same place on the railway platform for 10 minutes while people paced around me. I am not, after all, a caged animal. I'm freer then most people I know, yet I'm having trouble distinguishing myself, figuring out what makes me unique and/or valuable.

2003-03-31

I don't know how to measure regret. I should know by now that thoughts alone won't make the world go round. I hope against the occasional realities of my existence. I try, I know I try.