[Miscellany]
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Today is..
It's a blue icy day. I love these mornings, with the sun streaming down in cold ribbons, everybody rugged up but happy. I text my friend in qld - and she comes back with blue skies and warm stories. I tell her my cold happy ones and we go on our merry separate ways. Another text from the teacher who found god (and a psychologist) - hugs and well wishes for my "future". I laugh and send her back warm wishes with hugs like bookends beginning and completing the message. Then another and another - all sweet messages. I feel loved today, someone really wants me to finally "get it". Maybe I do ...for a second.
#1 and I pile into the car and we make our way out to what we affectionately term "the bloody sticks" much to the annoyance of F, who we are visiting (at her house) because she's too pregnant to leave it. Any day now..any second.
The route takes us up Sydney Road - with its crowded Turkish establishments, car doors hanging on by a thread and Mafia (..funny that we all know it's there but noone does anything about it). It is always a rush of raw energy, this place. The corporations haven't moved in yet, and so the food is still good and cheap and the people are still rough around the edges as demonstrated by the man covered in spray paint whistling as he walks merrily back into the local supermarket. Dodge city, but in a lovable way. I try to imagine what the faded stores signs would look like all done up and bohemianised like they are on Brunswick Street. I give it 10 years before we're all paying way too much for Kebabs on Sydney Road.
Leaving behind the bustle of the dodge, we move onto the Hume, a flat stretch of road crowded with red-eyed drivers manning oversized trucks. I swerve, cut through, yell, get annoyed, and just plain give up. I'd much rather be the passenger if I'm going on a trip - too much pressure. Otherwise I'm happy to drive alone because I can turn up the radio and just sing crap songs (Believe it or not it's just meeee) without anyone minding too much. By the time we get there, we've taken a few wrong turns (or "taken the scenic route" as we like to call it) we're such city slickers, we laugh.
F is all belly, in that adorable way that pregnant women are a few days before birth, but she is still somehow able to curl up into a ball and sit demurely in the armchair. I am amazed at her. We can't wait for bubs to be born. F, of course will be a fabulous mother but is already worried about the isolation of being a mother who doesn't want to be a typical "mummy". I understand - no mother's group for her. Who wants that anyway? Can't think of a worse way to go insane actually. I suggest she start her own renegade group of misfit mothers who talk about other things like...life, books, philosophy...Oprah, you know - normal stuff. Baby talk and vital information about fingernail growth kept only to the first 10 minutes. I am met with a rousing applause. There could be something in this.
By the time we leave the sun is low in the sky - a violet hue over the horizon. I am reminded of a line in a song Pink ribbon skies that never forget. Our friend is producing her own - this is a very cool thing.
#1 and I pile into the car and we make our way out to what we affectionately term "the bloody sticks" much to the annoyance of F, who we are visiting (at her house) because she's too pregnant to leave it. Any day now..any second.
The route takes us up Sydney Road - with its crowded Turkish establishments, car doors hanging on by a thread and Mafia (..funny that we all know it's there but noone does anything about it). It is always a rush of raw energy, this place. The corporations haven't moved in yet, and so the food is still good and cheap and the people are still rough around the edges as demonstrated by the man covered in spray paint whistling as he walks merrily back into the local supermarket. Dodge city, but in a lovable way. I try to imagine what the faded stores signs would look like all done up and bohemianised like they are on Brunswick Street. I give it 10 years before we're all paying way too much for Kebabs on Sydney Road.
Leaving behind the bustle of the dodge, we move onto the Hume, a flat stretch of road crowded with red-eyed drivers manning oversized trucks. I swerve, cut through, yell, get annoyed, and just plain give up. I'd much rather be the passenger if I'm going on a trip - too much pressure. Otherwise I'm happy to drive alone because I can turn up the radio and just sing crap songs (Believe it or not it's just meeee) without anyone minding too much. By the time we get there, we've taken a few wrong turns (or "taken the scenic route" as we like to call it) we're such city slickers, we laugh.
F is all belly, in that adorable way that pregnant women are a few days before birth, but she is still somehow able to curl up into a ball and sit demurely in the armchair. I am amazed at her. We can't wait for bubs to be born. F, of course will be a fabulous mother but is already worried about the isolation of being a mother who doesn't want to be a typical "mummy". I understand - no mother's group for her. Who wants that anyway? Can't think of a worse way to go insane actually. I suggest she start her own renegade group of misfit mothers who talk about other things like...life, books, philosophy...Oprah, you know - normal stuff. Baby talk and vital information about fingernail growth kept only to the first 10 minutes. I am met with a rousing applause. There could be something in this.
By the time we leave the sun is low in the sky - a violet hue over the horizon. I am reminded of a line in a song Pink ribbon skies that never forget. Our friend is producing her own - this is a very cool thing.
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