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J O U R N A L
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Sunday, August 31
[Just like any grey weekend]posted by peter at 21:07 .......
The word on the street is that summer is here.
[Level three, overpass]posted by peter at 17:00 .......Jess says that the root of all our problems is the fact that we didn't have brand name babywear and coordinated infant outfits, let alone Swedish designed ergonomic furniture and accessories to match both the tiny garments and the floral frieze on the nursery walls. Us classless country dwellers know nothing of privileged upbringings.
Nothing in this life is as innocuous as it seems. Another day, another emotional scar.
Jess is celebrating the birth of a new niece. She was so excited she nearly upended the aquarium, which flustered Kate's two fish (named Don't Eat Me and Don't Kill Me, incidentally) no end.
Mum and Dad have bought a house in Adelaide. It's a festival of new things.
Today Jess and I went to Southland shopping centre, for no other purpose than to have coffee at Bay Swiss. Another piece of bamboo, anyone? Oh, and to buy baby items, I forgot. Both Hello Kitty and Snoopy featured among the purchases.
I hated Southland so much, predominantly because until I know the layout of such suburban strips, I find them overwhelming. I can't see the shops for the families. I hate being uncertain whether or not a particular shop actually exists within a fluorescent network; dammit I want to be the store directory, not have to consult one. And just because it's a lazy Sunday doesn't mean we don't need an express lane on the escalators... stand to the left, mofo. As if spending forever finding a park wasn't delay enough. Up the pace, up the pace.
So yeah, it's been a good day. Thank goodness I didn't go anywhere last night. We had a bit of a party here, and I stayed behind when the taxi left for the city. Call me lame, but whatever. I was there in spirit.
Finally, if you've got a spare $10 and are keen to develop a Joni Mitchell obsession like mine, just have a look in one of those abundant parallel import cheap CD stores and pick up a copy of The Hissing of Summer Lawns. Give it a few spins and you'll be hooked. It might just change your world for a time. Or you could hate it. Whatever, eleven months down and my copy is still going strong.
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[Don't do barbecues]posted by peter at 17:48 .......Kate cut my hair and it's pretty full-on. I'm not going to post a photo this time, at least not until the deliberate bare patches grow out a bit. She's out of control.
Last night I was told that I give the impression of someone who would be an avid drug user. It's a great haircut though. Kate always does a good job.
I went out on Brunswick St with Kate, Brooke, Tree and Jono; the latter two being friends from Adelaide. It was a fun night consisting of dinner at the Provincial followed by drinks at Bimbo. (We had vile home-brewed beer, it was like a creepy Hoegaarden, but maybe we got a bad batch.)
Today was so laid-back; very much a white wine on a balcony kind of day, so that's what transpired. T'was a bit cold when the sun wasn't shining.
I am so not going out tonight. But there is peer pressure.
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[Friday not in love]posted by peter at 13:29 .......Never give your phone number to someone with a mood disorder.
Those were the words that should have echoed in my mind when hospitality girl approached and demanded my number.
She snapped at the photographer this morning.
To be fair, I think she is trying to annunciate her comments in a humorous way. But she doesn't pull it off. She ends up sounding narky, and offending people.
And I hate knowing that she's got my phone number. But what else could I do? Saying "no" would have been too rude – she would just as likely have said "I know when I'm not wanted", and both she and I would have felt dreadful. Hopefully she just won't ring.
Four people 'graduated' from the course this morning. They even got laminated parchments. The fashion designer's certificate had a single hair embedded beneath the plastic.
It felt kind of sad to see them leave. Fashion designer, feng shui lady, spontaneous nosebleed guy and Tran. Gone. Now I know how inmates must feel when they see fellow prisoners get released on parole. It's a strange, wistful jealousy. At least we had muffins and orange juice to distract us from the sadness.
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[Compression]posted by peter at 20:27 .......- Oh wow, so I rubbed a garlic clove over slices of tomato and sandwiched them between soy and linseed toast with non-animal rennet cheese and a sprinkling of Maldon sea salt. Big deal. I am so fed up with my lack of inspiration. Tonight's offering: crushed chickpeas with diced tomato, garlic, tahini, salt and lemon juice – why don't I just lick out a tub of hommus and call it a meal? Dreary times.
- Lindt are making 85% cocoa dark chocolate now, but it's unsuitable for eating. May as well have a mouthful of Dutch-processed cocoa powder. It would be good for cooking, but for wicked indulgence it's best to stick to the 70% cocoa product.
- And I am so fed up with stir-fries. How many ways can I cook up strips of tofu with *insert South East Asian flavour here* and still find it interesting? Oooh, rice or noodles tonight? Sorry I wouldn't want to overwhelm anyone with choice. Yet I can't be bothered stocking up on ingredients because the process involves massive financial outlay and everything is just as likely to rot in hell before I get around to actually using it.
- One more for the road, because I am grumpy: I'm sick of job advertisements being recalled just moments before I actually want to apply. Seriously, it's happened twice now; I see a job, think about it for a while, but when I go back to the online ad, I find that lo and behold it has been removed. Fate has spoken: it wasn't meant to be. Well, as they say: get fucked.
[More from the land of promise]posted by peter at 12:17 .......Today's Powerpoint presentation component flew by so quickly that we ended up playing trivia to fill in the rest of the session. Lucy from Texas has been here for 20 years but still has an all-American worldview. She is completely lovely, but struggled to accept the fact that 'China' was not the correct answer to a question that required the response of 'Vietnam'. I explained that they are two different nations with unique cultural groups.
At this point Tran, who had spent the entire session looking bored, raised her head with a glimmer of interest, but rapidly disengaged. Lucy was more persistent.
"What about 'Asian'?"
No, Asia is a geographical region that encompasses many nations and cultural groups. It is not the same thing as 'Vietnam'.
"Oh. I'm going to look this up on the Internet later."
Lucy wants to open an organic supermarket.
I had a good chat with ex-recruitment guy, and shared sandwich ideas with the photographer. I felt bad about declining a lunch invitation from hospitality girl, but I had to cry poor and I hadn't appreciated the accusatory comment she'd made earlier of "oh, you've decided to join us now?" Gee, sorry that I wanted to run off to the CD store in my break; next time I'll get a permission slip.
After it was all finished I walked to Parliament station because I wanted to visit some record stores along the way. This was such a bad idea because I ended up having to wait forever for a train, which then took me around the whole city loop (a journey I despise) before zooming off to South Yarra. Unnecessarily inefficient.
As a final aside, do check out the realm of my dear friend Ms Thread. She's knitted a wonderfully replenishing world of home made items.
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[I seem to recall]posted by peter at 12:15 .......Part of me feels uncomfortable about supplying the details of other people's lives, but the other part can't resist mentioning that the former footballer got an interview for a position as an exotic dancer, and the (as yet unmentioned) spontaneous nosebleed guy is awaiting a court case for assaulting a police officer at an anti war rally. Apparently he was bashed by three officers in a Melbourne alley.
Hospitality girl told me I was weird after I responded in a detached manner to her story about a mobile phone charger, and went on to ask me my star sign before stating that all people born with the moon in Taurus must be strange. As a lapsed Taurean I was almost offended, but then I remembered my lack of astrological beliefs.
The former schoolteacher had plenty to offer, but I found the photographer to be the most uplifting person today. It seems the middle of the week brings a trough. I've just eaten a whole packet of Haigh's chocolate coated cashews (new product, really delicious) so I'm feeling a lot better. I swear it's my own private Vicodin.
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[Day 2]posted by peter at 12:41 .......I am enjoying my intensive jobsearch assistance so much. Today I had coffee with the feng shui lady and another lovely girl with a hospitality background who is skilled in the preparation of Chinese food. She's not Chinese, which obviously doesn't matter but it reminded me of a Seinfeld episode. I struck up rapport with the photographer; we chatted about negativity hampering artistic expression and the abundant backstabbing that seems to occur within creative circles. We also talked about cool places to live.
Only two days in, and I haven't even finished meeting everyone yet.
And now I'm worried about my posture. I think I slouch too much, which is very unattractive. I think I'm going to research a set of exercises to correct any biomechanical misalignment, and walk like I'm carrying a weapon. It imbues a tremendous sense of confidence.
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[Monday, Monday]posted by peter at 21:23 .......Life is so great sometimes, and there is not a trace of irony in that statement. Sometimes the good things really jump up and hit you in the face. Today's example: what could have been a phenomenally depressing festival of joblessness turned into a terrifically unusual experience when I realised that I was grouped with a demure feng shui geomancer, a former AFL player, a photographer who "sees the world in images and colours and shapes" and a fashion designer in home made and vintage gear. I can't wait to see what the next few weeks bring, given the mix. I even sent off a job application.
Well it was Lumiere monday, so Sal and I tramped about on Brunswick St, got rained on, swanned through a glass prismed Collins St hotel foyer, sat right next to the toilet in a cafe courtyard and then caught a film.
Next Monday we're looking forward to a day of tea and biscuits. Japanese kokeicha really is the sexiest tea ever, however much it may resemble pine needles.
Last night the girl at the checkout asked me if I watched Alias (No) and then whether I'd seen One Hour Photo (Yes, unfortunately) and then told me that she has a friend (or her friend has a friend, I can't quite remember) who looks exactly like the husband in that film and then said that he was incredibly cute and something about someone being too shy to approach him. Then I thought she'd probably made some assumptions about my lifestyle and then I remembered that I was standing in the Prahran Safeway after all.
Ooh, less than 11 hrs until my next intensive jobsearch assistance session. My goal for tomorrow is to exude less of a "don't talk to me" air and perhaps engage more with the rest of the group. After all, it's never the wrong time to add a few eclectic friends to the bunch.
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[Hill country]posted by peter at 18:32 .......
Sassafras was cold and foggy today, but our meal at the wonderful Ripe restaurant more than made up for any discomfort. This place is just so delicious – their hot chocolates alone are worth the trip, made as they are with Lindt chocolate and served in massive mugs that dwarf any offering I've ever seen in the city. The food is so good (I just had a regular baguette and it was spectacular, needless to say the flourless mud cake was mindblowing) and the lady who served us is just so lovely. She has shoes from Milan.
It's the second time I've dined at Ripe and both occasions have been super. And I can't believe how reasonable the prices are for such way-above-standard fare. Do make the trip sometime.
[Only welcome for]posted by peter at 00:49 .......Packing up the last of the utensils, I remembered how we always said that this was inner-city living. A late-night naan bread by the side of the road is cosmopolitanism at its best.
I could fall asleep on the couch while the DVD plays on, or awaken suddenly to find headphones woven into the bed sheets. As long as the batteries last.
And now a durable carpet holds piles of clothes and a few books. A thin mattress rests against the sliding door, the ugly fabric buckles half way.
What awaits is a new cell block. Higher urban density, higher altitude, higher management fees. Living space measured from exterior walls. A coffee shop in the foyer. Maybe even a balcony.
Two square metres where red geraniums bask in pale winter sun. Two square metres where a single chair sits facing the view; a rendered concrete wall and microwave tower. Two square metres where things have a habit of sliding towards the edge.
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[1 star, Margaret]posted by peter at 16:03 .......You know those films that you persist with watching despite bad acting, an abysmal plot, failed attempts at humour and dreadfully dislikeable characters, all in the hope that the movie might turn out well in the end?
And you know when they don't?
Garage Days is one of those films.
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[Chemical burn]posted by peter at 18:39 .......Something to remember about chilli powder:
Since chilli powder is a finely ground substance, there is a hell of a lot more surface area than in a visually similar quantity of chopped fresh chilli. This surface area directly translates to severe heat potency within a dish. In this case, the worst curry ever made.
*leaves to extinguish burning mouth inferno*
[Kitten sprinkles of happiness]posted by peter at 16:32 .......(sin x)/x is a particularly pertinent equation at the moment, as wild undulations die away to an infinitesimally small value. But not quite zero. No apologies for being oblique.
I used that equation as the basis for a Flash engine once, to produce an oscillating dot which swayed to and fro over its origin, amplitude gradually decaying. Trouble is, something governed by such mathematics never reaches standstill, so I had to impose artificial controls.
Is it just me, or is there a character on The Young and the Restless who is an African-American version of Katie Holmes? Same eyes, mannerisms, deportment, everything. (Ok, I admit, I'm watching Dawson's Creek again.) I found the similarities quite startling during today's dose of daytime television.
This week is unique due to the extent of my cashlessness. Three weeks in Adelaide will do that to you, despite the inclusion of temp work in the itinerary. Hence, television must take precedence over other forms of cultural stimulation. Dammit I wanna spend some money!!!
Joni Mitchell sings backing vocals on James Taylor's version of You've got a friend. I think I like it more than Carole King's legendary track.
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[Coffee grounds and a paper cup]posted by peter at 22:04 .......I've just watched the original 1933 version of Little Women, and enjoyed it so much it's almost perverse. There's something marvellous about seeing Katharine Hepburn barreling through a forest. She's such a man as Jo, bless her heart, but she finds true love in the end. Clearly it's in store for us all.
Now, I'm a bit fed up with the lack of acknowledgement that occurs every time I venture into the David Jones menswear department. How hard is it to look at someone and say "hello", or at the very least smile? I'm the first to admit that I hardly fit the store's demographic, but I am genuinely interested in some of the items that grace the shelves. Evidently I'm too young and interesting for their door policy. Either that or I don't leave a sufficiently scintillating trail of golden trinkets and Tiffany diamonds in my wake, but hey, I wasn't dressed like a dog. I have my theories but they smack of conspiracy and X-files obsession.
The best news of all is that as of Monday morning I must undertake three weeks of intensive job search assistance training. Apparently I'll be involved in sessions where I'll learn how "to use telephones, computers, photocopiers and other office equipment" – oh bring it on; I can hardly wait. Plainly my previous office work wasn't government standard despite being a government job, and obviously my IT degree involved only the use of an abacus and piles of carrots, parsnips and celery, carefully grouped to resemble program variables. You can take the boy out of the country...
So that's something to look forward to, every day from 9 - 12 for three weeks. I actually don't mind because it will be fodder for strange stories and hopefully unusual experiences will arise. But I'm supposed to be spending my days on the unemployment couch and part of me resents the messing up of my daily schedule.
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[Click, Click]posted by peter at 16:52 .......
*apologises to Kyle for any bandwidth issues...* :)
[Uniform]posted by peter at 12:48 .......My primary school motto was perseverance. One word, just like that. Embedded in a circular logo.
If nothing else, we can persevere with these children. Keep on keeping on; no definite goals, but full marks for trying.
We had a Karen Carpenter at school as well. No resemblance whatsoever between her and the famous namesake, but there's something hilarious about the identical name. She was a lot older than me and I didn't know her, but I'm under the impression that she was a nice person.
Mens Sana In Corpore Sano. I'm pretty sure my highschool motto was the same as the Carlton football club's. But I wouldn't know for sure because I hate the moronic game – try growing up in a community that knows no other pastime and you'll understand what I'm talking about.
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[Cell membrane]posted by peter at 12:26 .......And there are the days when no amount of sleep seems enough. Why is that? Sleep breeds tiredness – if only we all could be like Martha Stewart who reportedly sleeps 4 hours per night with the light on. She gets a lot of things done that way.
Breakfast cereal + soy milk + organic hommus with sliced tomato on vegan organic white bread toast. An apple and a tangello, if you please.
There is sickness in the house; a flatmate lies ill and coughing in the next room. In sharehouses, the germs zero in through the tributaries of a river running backwards. Or come down the branches of a search tree. Either way, a billion different diseases from a billion different acquaintances, all swimming around in the kitchen sink. Quietly waiting on the bathroom taps.
Multiply, divide.
From a stagnant pool of primordial soup, a fungus creeps up the grout and sends out spores.
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[Redirect]posted by peter at 22:24 .......I just love everything about this place! Thanks to Selena for the link!
[Container based]posted by peter at 14:13 .......Look! I didn't miss out on my daffodil flowering after all:
One daffodil. Singular. The bulbs I bought looked very plump and healthy, and carried a guarantee of blooming, but only one of them produced a flower. I think there was an actual warranty system, but I threw out the details and am not really the sort of person who would be interested in pursuing such a claim process anyway. Even though the colour of the flower's trumpet was misrepresented on the packet photo.
It's a gorgeous day today.
Adelaide photos are coming soon.
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[Variation, flicker]posted by peter at 19:25 .......It was weird after flying back to Melbourne this morning, because within the first hour of my return I'd already experienced about four incidents of rudeness and uptightness. I hate to make generalisations, but people here really need to lighten up, as last time I checked the act of smiling was considered beneficial by most world health authorities.
Heaven forbid that anyone have a good time in the intellectual capital; pass me my black heavy rimmed spectacles please. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love it here and have met numerous wonderful people, but I find it amazing that a derisive attitude towards Adelaide exists in this city, given that SA people seem to encourage positive living and don't bat an eyelid at boisterous, fun (if admittedly feral) behaviour. Unfortunately, many notions of "exciting living" seem to be based on the sheer number of nightclubs per square kilometre; a measure that has little meaning when positioned within the broad spectrum of human existence.
The Filthies were testing the water on Rundle St the other night, just to see what they could get away with, and they struggled to raise a sideways glance. Contrast this with Williamstown today (which I've decided is a revolting, suburban version of Pt Pirie), where we got glared at when the wind blew our menus towards a nearby table, I mean, sorry we don't command complete control of natural elements and didn't have the foresight to place sandbags over the various items that made up our table setting. And yeah, allow me to pick that up, as it's clearly not fashionable to offer assistance even if the item did land at your feet. The tossing of hair and the flurrying of scarves. Take your vile dogs home.
Allow me to make one more observation: I think that along with pronunciation differences, there's a marked variation in sense of humour between residents of VIC and SA. Each would argue that their own is more sophisticated than the other, but I think it leads to misunderstanding. We certainly get our fair share of vacant stares, followed by a querying response such as "are you from the UK?"
So it certainly is an interesting situation. At the moment, I'm still choosing to live in Melbourne, so if you hail from this, the world's most livable city (supposedly), it's not my intention to offend. I guess it's just another example of discomfort generated by cultural variation.
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[You would]posted by peter at 16:00 .......Dangerous levels of geekiness are a real problem in today's society, as illustrated by the losers playing network games on the mezzanine above me. I can't hear myself think over their shouts and yells, most of which are monosyllabic curses. If you're going to swear that loudly, at least be creative.
Especially now that I want to think. I spent the morning drowning out any possible thoughts with high-amplitude art noise and atonal electronica. The vacuum cleaner did its bit towards my vacuousness too.
But now that I want my cognitive processes to scintillate, I'm finding my synapses to be hampered by KFC scoffing computerphiles. They're the sort of people I used to glare at in computer pools at uni. The ones who somehow managed to override security permissions and then loudly proclaim their IT genius. I don't want to take anything away from their successes – in fact I'm glad for them – it's just that I don't care to be told at volume and with unintelligent narrative.
Under these conditions, there's no hope of me writing what I'd wanted to. Therefore I will leave it until another time, or else let it slip into oblivion. I know it's manipulative to allude to something that may turn out to be unobtainable, but alienation is one of the things I do best. After all, spending too much time around other people can drive anyone to minor insanity.
It would have been dark in New York. I think I might have to get off the grid for a time.
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[So not young and interesting]posted by peter at 11:32 .......Only after booking my flight did I realise that it's probably not advisable to use credit cards at establishments such as Internet cafes. Who knows who could be monitoring? Oh well, I'm no stranger to credit card fraud.
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Humans respond to trauma in the most interesting and varied ways. The people we met last night decided to hit a Thursday night pickup joint to cope with the suicide of their son. He bled himself to death, apparently.
Why was I in this vile seaside club? Because I was dragged there, that's why. I simply do not go to places like that unless I am led in against my will. Barely-18 girls gyrated in front of the covers band while hawk-like males in ill-fitting Ed Harry cotton shirts selected their next beverage. So gross. No room for metrosexuals there. Once the first set of punches were thrown (nothing to do with me) I demanded an immediate departure.
In typical Adelaide style I had only 3 hours sleep and then my bus was late.
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[Rock kids]posted by peter at 09:47 .......And it must be said that Adelaide Rock Ladies are doing cool things in this town!
[Sands through the hourglass]posted by peter at 09:29 .......Oh, more of the same really, not to imply that this is a bad thing. I wish I could write "by the way, I'm in Berlin" but it wouldn't be a very truthful exercise and such deception would burn me because my heart is pure.
Work has been good, although my efforts have been somewhat frustrated by that weird virus/worm thing which essentially disabled all Internet functionality and prevented any meaningful work from taking place. It's such an exciting time to be in IT, you can imagine rooms full of geeks frantically typing away with eyelids propped up by guarana, searching for the key or code or other binary fragment. What a dynamic industry, I'm so thrilled that I spent so many years earning qualifications.
Did I mention that changes are in the pipeline? More about that in the coming weeks.
Last night saw another legendary dinner with Trish, this time at the spectacular Star of Siam. The occasion was as melodramatic and fun as ever, and I learnt a lot about one of her friends whom I've never met. We followed the delicious meal with coffee at the Crown and Sceptre, which is one of Adelaide's most Melbourne-like pubs, complete trams thundering past outside.
Prior to that I had enjoyed the delightful company of Pippa, during which we lugged a Video/DVD combo machine around the rush hour streets in a huge plastic bag, one person to each handle. It's good to be young and interesting. The wonderful Sarina joined me for a chat in uber-minimalist surrounds, and then it was time to meet Trish. Thus the cycle was completed.
I think I'm heading back to Melbourne on the weekend, or early next week at the latest.
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[One man’s trash]posted by peter at 21:39 .......Natural fibres are all well and good, but pure cottons don’t seem to measure up to natural/synthetic blends, particularly when used in shirts. How do other people feel about this? I definitely prefer a blend, not in a glossy, disco sort of way, but in a practical, quick drying, non sweaty, reduced wrinkle, lessened malformation sort of way.
Mum commanded a complete audit of the contents of my bedroom cupboard this afternoon. So many of the items within held such meaning during my childhood, but now, taken out of context, they look so ordinary and disposable. I can be a bit of a hoarder (though you wouldn’t know it with all the things I threw out prior to the Melbourne move), so it was certainly a bit of a trip down the proverbial memory lane. And, to be honest, it pained me to throw away some of the objects. But I don’t think I’ll miss the New York City diorama, complete with twin towers and slots for back-lighting. And I have no need for the colourful school projects and bad year 11 poetry. Still, it was a bit of a melancholic process.
Well I have some temp work tomorrow, in Adelaide of course. Wouldn’t you know it, I go to Melbourne and don’t find work, I come to Adelaide for a holiday and get employed. I find my life to be a bit bizarre and ill-defined at the moment.
[Here is a shell for you]posted by peter at 21:35 .......Your walls are so thick, your curtains so pretty. And I like the way you have your hair. There’s always lots to talk about, and every situation is under control. Calm and efficient. Some would say cold, but jealous eyes search for any bitter likeness.
We can go.
Leave those things you want behind you, take whatever you don’t need. I could offer some suggestions, but it’s not me speaking now.
For I am the mandrake screaming outside in the garden. Your windows carry tiny voltages in a silicon substrate. They fluctuate, but no processing occurs.
[You have seen some unbelievable things]posted by peter at 11:47 .......Would you let me walk down your street, naked if I wanted to?
Cat Power SO hasn’t cancelled her tour. As far as I know, we’ve got tickets to the show at the Corner Hotel. And I’m under the impression that she’s actually added an extra show. Tickets were bought on Saturday, so surely the show cannot be cancelled. News of that kind is poisonous to my ears, so please, don’t let me be wrong.
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[Many leavings]posted by peter at 16:30 .......We drove out of the city on a Saturday night. The last set of traffic lights caught the 4th hour of sleep in a full rotation of the earth.
It’s cold inland, and wild is the wind. Chunks of ice are swirling in the grey sky. Behind the glass, a single cordaline australis juts a stark silhouette into aching clouds that may bring snow.
(I’m at my parents’ place. Home on the farm.)
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[Is this one mine?]posted by peter at 13:51 .......You know you're in trouble when you can't taste the tequila in cocktails that everyone else around you is recoiling from in bitter horror.
I fell down a small flight of stairs and accidentally rested my head in a floor-bound bowl of ice cream. But by no means were things out of control; this is what happens when someone spills an Oreo cocktail onto a granite floor. Very slippery.
Fun, frivolity and fabulous friends, all housed on the esplanade of a quiet beach on the Gulf of St Vincent. Perfect!
[~]posted by peter at 13:42 .......At 4am the sea lives beneath the moon. Shifting seams of graphite writhe beneath the lamp of a craftsman. And the sky is a dark filigree.
A dappled bridge connects the landmass, eerie and fragile. Turbulent waters speak of large worlds.
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[Video phone]posted by peter at 18:11 .......T'was a classic Adelaide day... Vego and Lovin' It, Illy (new franchise with wicked hot chocolate), Citrus Blu (you must go there) and general city slouching. Trish enthralled us with tales of a badly burnt perineum... the result of a second session of laser hair removal. She's not having much luck with the process, the poor girl, and wants me to warn everyone away from the salon she chose, but for fear of defamation I won't. Let's just say it's one of the more gothic places in this city.
And tonight? To the beach. The seaside community of Aldinga holds a house (which I'm told resembles the very first Big Brother house) that accommodates a friend who is throwing a party. I've purchased red wine for the occasion.
Wolfing down a pesto penne, so lovingly prepared by ex housemates. It's strange to visit an old place of residence, to suss out the differences be startled by the similarities. I'm sitting in my old room typing on a computer that is in the exact same position as mine used to be. The same mercury light is beaming in through the crack in the curtains. Forgive the sickening nostalgia, but it does feel kind of odd.
Kate messaged me to say that my daffodils are flowering in Melbourne. I knew I'd miss out on seeing them.
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[Yo, yo, yo]posted by peter at 11:43 .......Two members of the Wu-Tang club made the train ride just that little bit more unpleasant, but four minutes to the city eases the pain. Now there's the hope that everything can be accomplished before the next person with a booking steals the LCD page.
If you see one, you gotta grab it while you can.
Vacuuming consumed the morning; it's hard to be efficient in someone else's house. Former housemates tell of seemingly faulty machines being clogged with hairballs and unchanged cardboard holding the dust of ages. Who would think to change the bag? Sometimes technology is so easily grasped that common sense flies away at the same moment the intimidation departs. Like the baby with the bathwater.
Someone should tell those kids that there is much, much better hip hop in the world.
[Travels outside of karma]posted by peter at 11:37 .......The backing is of terracotta, the foreground of ochre. Like something you'd see in Santa Fe. Bonsai trees flank the sides, resting on narrow ledges where the water doesn't fall. But the mouth in the centre opens wide and pours a stream of judgement onto any shiny surface that comes too close.
[Bubble wrap]posted by peter at 11:21 .......Speaking of Villeroy and Boch, Lisa B brought back a beautiful item for me from Harrods. She is the perfect ex-housemate. Now I not only possess a gorgeous Villeroy and Boch homeware, but I also have a Harrods plastic bag to carry things in. As a logo, you can't get much more desirable than that!
Don't bother trying to lure me anywhere this afternoon; I'll be baking gingerbread men and cakes with Pippa and Josh. An ideal activity for the day after a fondue party.
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[Slightly Chinese design]posted by peter at 16:51 .......A visit to Sandra's is a sure-fire way to reignite an obsession with all things Spode. Especially when one consumes about 3 litres of green tea out of a massive Spode teacup. What's not to love about that? Particularly for someone who narrowly avoided putting a $250 milk jug on their credit card last Christmas. It would have been the spontaneous purchase to end all spontaneous purchases, and was a very, very near miss.
Fortunately a Villeroy and Boch item could be justifiably purchased as a gift for a sibling, thereby diminishing the lust for homewares. But when will the time come for some personal shopping, damn it? There's only so much time for patience.
Gosh I'm missing Melbourne at the moment, but I absolutely love being in Adelaide. I guess that means neither place is home.
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[-------]posted by peter at 15:30 .......Of course if your car were to collide with an oncoming vehicle, the answers to death's mystery would be quickly unveiled in a tangle of metal. Sometimes it's tempting to drive straight into a tree just to find out – not in a suicidal sense, but in the yearning for knowledge and experiential understanding. I believe I've been to Paris so who are you to tell me otherwise?
You see, we can watch wasted lives unravel on any convenient screen in any building in any city or town. Even in rural areas it's not hard. But look up to find the sun is not made of plastic.
Modern thinking offers boundless choice, yet would suggest that virginity is not an option, unless your hair is the right colour. And somebody's lying if they say you don't need cosmetic surgery. Botox is indispensable. Join a gym, go for after-work drinks, maybe breathe some blow on weekends but only if it's right for you. Look alarmed at displays of political incorrectness, but bow to social contrivances. Grab at bundles of money, even if it means destroying heritage-listed structures.
I didn't win the $19 million. It's a shame really; I'd be fun to be around if I had that kind of money.
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[Superfast at the State Library]posted by peter at 12:46 .......The pleasures of fast Internet. Almost as good as lounging around on yellow seats in public thoroughfares, but not quite. Once more, the evil no-change demon struck and the train sailed on with one passenger less than it should have carried. Of course you can't use notes in the on-board ticket machines. Facing a wait of an hour for the next train (despite being two stations from the city) inspired a trek over parklands to a serene little bus stop.
Heads with white visors bobbed along in the distance, golf carts trailing their geriatric owners. It's such an upper class game but it's so interminably dull. Obviously designed for the anal retentive incontinent. But younger people seem to like it too, along with lawn bowls. It's hard to accept reality at times.
Swept up in psychodrama, enmeshed in melodrama... a listening ear gets all kinds of crap, especially in this day and age of mobile phones. It's fun to tread the vicarious path every once in a while as long as you can avoid getting ensconced in the emotional side effects. Just remember: it's none of your business.
Weather one more storm.
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[2003 a filth odyssey]posted by peter at 15:48 .......Evidently it's been a bit of a filth odyssey in Sydney this weekend. Yes, Filthy Ange and Filthy Trish have joined Ms Tizer in Sydney, and by all reports absolute feralness has ensued. Naughty trouble galore. Ahem.
Dehydrated in the city, imagining delicious things in the specialty shops. Maybe a bagel is in order. Lunch at a lovely cafe near Sonia's, she and I rocked up there the other day both talking on mobile phones; such archetypal yuppies but I don't have the salary to back up the image. Do yuppies still exist or has another cultural definition arisen? Please, no more about Generation N.
Wow, seedy jazz in this Internet place. Vehicles outside in the street. Still feeling a tad displaced but at least I have a key to someone's residence. Still planning visits and journeys, it's not stressful but I'm beginning to wonder if I can fit everything in. I still don't know how long I'm here for.
And there's a travel post here!
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[Fleeting synapse in the space channel]posted by peter at 12:13 .......Something you can do when you want to leave the manbag at home (ie. when you're worried the straps will rub against the print on your favourite jacket or whatever) is choose a regular shopping bag to take with you to contain your odds and ends. Now, by no means is a regular shopping bag acceptable, bag lady chic ain't OK so resist the supermarket urge. Oh no, it must be a carefully selected bag, of appropriate size, shape and material – preferably thick recycled paper – and most importantly, it must bear a desirable logo of some sorts.
'Cheap as Chips' doesn't really cut it. Nor does 'The Reject Shop'. No, it must be a real logo with bonafide street / intellectual / artistic / social / couture appeal. So, if you're braving the bespectacled massed descending upon David Jones in a flurry of expensive threads and carefully positioned hair, your best bet is something like Bvlgari. You could get away with a nice maroon Haigh's bag too; I've done that before (given the shortage of couture items in my possession). If you're tripping down Hindley St (or equivalent), something with a funky streetwear label would be OK, Zoo York would be ideal but I've never seen it... having a Miss Gladys Sym Choon bag would be perfect except they sell everything in clear plastic.
If you want to appear socially and environmentally conscious you could consider a cheesecloth bag with a recycling logo on it. One of the ones I use a lot advertises an organic food store, which adds a sort of culinary appeal as well.
Today I've opted for a pleasantly minimalist Mary Martin Bookstore bag, which lends a wonderful dash of intellectual edginess to my overall ghetto trash look. It's working a treat, and the only reason I have it is because Pippa gave me a copy of the beautiful Shaun Tan book The Red Tree, and she thoughtfully passed on the bag to me.
Adelaide's been great so far... I've met up with heaps of friends and whatnot, and there's a post coming in travel soon. Just not yet.
I think I have to go somewhere creepy for lunch.
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