melbourne

I’m stuck in a den of iniquity, waiting for my girlfriend. The laptop’s out, and I’m listening to Sonic Nurse while I work on the config for a couple of wireless bridges I’ll be giving names based on books I read a long time ago. Pattern Recognition‘s such a calming track, swirling over the hubbub and the TV footage of old footy biffo scenes from the 80’s. I’m here to see a film about robots, but I’m still thinking about last night’s film, all in black and white, where a keen-looking Iggy Pop tried to recommend a drummer to Tom Waits. »

Somewhere in the dreamland between work, sleep and taxi rides I received a suggestions of sorts that I pick up the new Wilco album. I think it was something to do with the egg on the cover. Or mabye I’m turning into a ghost? I’d caught a glimpse of friends before being snatched back into work’s familiar womb, last weekend. This weekend I’m alone with my thoughts. Idle hands, devil’s playthings. »

A few weeks ago, the Thornbury RSL clock told me it was -0 as I passed by on the tram. This morning, it was merely 0. I guess we’re making progress. »

You can’t get there any faster, can you? Relax a little. »

It’s not the first time in my life that I’ve stood and stared into the Brisbane River, asking myself if it really has to be this way. I walked and slept and walked, but it won’t leave me alone. »