Shuttled back into the badly-built mold box bedroom with my brother
needing the lounge room floor, I found 3 hours of battered sleep as I
remembered how badly these windows block sound - especially
construction. As the big build nearby angle-grinds its way to
completion, another was just demolished. I tried to convince myself the
sounds could be part of dreams.
I woke with oedema eyes.
You know - when someone has a visible allergic reaction, and the skin
around their eyes is puffed with lymph fluid? I heard a click of the
front door, and my brother quietly left the house.
I jumped out of bed, trotted out and and stuck a bleary, puffy, unslept face out into the hall.
"You going?"
"Yeah."
"Good bye. Good bye. Good bye. Good bye."
He toddled over and kissed me on the top of the head.
Okay, so he's not totally terrible after all.
January 31, 2018
January 28, 2018
Don't Sway My Way
That moment when a crazy/mentally disabled/drunk man staggers to a
stop when he sees you, and sways while he debates whether to make an
unwanted, semen-loaded cameo in your day simply because you are
appealingly female and he is ready to mate now, please, but does a final
side-to-side and meanders away, to your utter, and repetitive relief.
January 25, 2018
Supermarket Beating
What a weird day. Lightning strikes at a
south-eastern sky, and a series of PT delays and misses saw me outside a
supermarket witnessing a gym-bulked guy beating the shit out of a
skinny black dude. I videoe'd it and have to email it to the cops.
Funnily, Google Maps asked if I want to add the video to the business's Google page :)
Not
so funnily was how sick I felt afterwards as the adrenaline wore off,
but hard to determine when you already have nausea from tonsillitis. I
know I don't feel right after witnessing that. The staff interfered, one brutalised the victim with blows to the head (he still works there - I return his smiles with ice-carved eyes), but
none came out to talk to the police. They stood inside. Not just that,
one escorted the attacker out the back door while the victim staggered
out the front. He was done for shoplifting, but his attackers were there
buying Jim Beam.
It's
sad how often I see this imbalance, this insanity. Even the cops didn't
go after the guy who kneed him and kicked him - even after seeing my
video. They handcuffed the droopy black guy.
On the bench beside him - two Crunchies and a tin of meat.
Phoned-In Obsession
They say that in adulthood, you are
well-served to look back at the things that you loved as a child. Your
favourite book will tell you a lot about yourself - that one you carted
around everywhere and insisted everyone read to you until it looked
shaggier than a mange dog. We are still that person in a lot of ways.
I
was just remembering my love of phones. I always wanted a phone. I was
obsessed with how American girls on sitcoms got phones in their
bedrooms. Hamburger and lip phones were coveted. I would get an old
rotary phone and take it to school - not just primary but high school
(different phones). I would be out at dinner with my parents and be
pretending to take a call from my agent on my flip-cell in 1994. Once in
high school my mum took my fake flip off me and started having phonesex
with the guy I was 'talking to'. To this day you can bet your ass I
would take a corded phone out in public just to confuse people.
What
is it with me and phones? I used to be allured by walkie-talkies and
CBs too, which felt like secret worlds. Like electronic psychic power.
Broadcasting, long before such a thing was ever handed off to us
in the form of the internet.
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