The [Bolte Bridge]1 has two red lights, one on each tower. They wink at me, one a little faster than the other, such that they blink in and out of sync over the space of a few minutes. Sometimes I wonder if they’re trying to talk to me, like how a friend told me about the lights atop some Brisbane building would give hints as to the upcoming weather. »
I’ve just watched Infernal Affairs, and I’ve got post-film eyes again. My tram screeches through the Flemington Road roundabout, cars going every which way. I’m just a little disconnected, grasping for something to hold onto. »
Once in a while, you get a taxi driver with a story to tell. This guy told me how he’d driven tour buses for years, and needed a new challenge – he was bored of driving to the same few destinations. “When you’re a taxi driver, you’re always learning,” he said. The western suburbs were new to him, much as they’re still (fairly) new to me. Good luck, dude. »
The Labour in Vain’s playing “If I could talk, I’d tell you”, and later on it’s Teenage Fanclub’s “Bandwagonesque” album. The good old days, they were. »
Trying on some clothes in David Jones, I feel almost overwhelmed by having 5 (or was it 7?) hooks to hang my clothes on. What luxury! Most clothes shops make you get by with one hook, posing a minor dilemma – do you hang your jacket on it, or the new garments? What gets relegated to the floor? It’s a tough choice. »