no sense in a slow afternoon phone call rumbles and trouble rolls in over the western horizon the past is a harsh mistress clinging to our bones screaming tunelessly in the fading evening light travelling north through melbourne-town drops fall inside and out and i start to hope if it rains for a few more days perhaps i can wash it all away. »
I can kill time. Watch me. People walk down the street like missed opportunities, a hundred stories we’ll never hear. I’m stuck walking with the crowd this time – a change from usual times, and I notice I’m almost the only one making way for people coming in the other direction. Running early, stuck in rain, I grab a quick gin at the Drunken Poet and hear a song over the speakers that sounds, well, Not Quite Right for the surroundings – I thought the language of this place would be, y’know, somehow different. »
I sat on the bus iPod on shuffle thinking of good and bad moments as a way of passing time on the peak-hour journey up and down Hoddle St. I caught myself madly hitting “next” when a bad memory appeared trying to get to a good one. Maybe one day my life’ll be a song but not yet. »
it seemed to be the perfect day to get things done and so all morning and even into the afternoon I got things done not always completely joyfully but steadily these days don’t come often sometimes I’m too anxious or too sad to notice they’re here and I’m left raging or weeping at another lost day (the passing of time occupies my mind at all sorts of inopportune moments). »
it was time to reconnect with the roads and streets spreading out from my house like blue and red veins some take me out others bring me back i didn’t go far it didn’t quite feel like the right kind of day but a few odd sights and a second-hand record shop set me right and made me feel as if I owned at least a small slice of my time. »