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australia
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Suburbia & pleasantness.
So I went on a ride tonight instead of during the sensible daylight hours. See, my day was filled with a few odd jobs and, erm, napping. And Faceless CorporationTM wasn't in need of my valuable services so my night was free. Perfect. The new head- and tail-lights I got the other day paid for themselves twice over this evening. I was very nearly sideswiped by a B-Double. A B-FUCKING-DOUBLE! Ahem. And on a narrow back street, too. I would've shat myself if it wasn't for the massive saddle sore I was developing.
Near-death experiences aside, I think I'm beginning to warm to the local area where I live. I used to loathe this brand of medium-density suburbia. It all seems as if it's all been slapped together, not homes but places where people sleep in between days at work. I craved for something more urban - maybe it was the wannabe yuppy and/or boho in me. But riding through it tonight, and then chilling out at home with all the windows open and the TV, radio and stereo all silent, it all seems sort of pleasant. There are smells of someone's cooking on the breeze and there are sounds from someone else's TV somewhere. And the crickets, too.
I usually only get this warm and fuzzy feeling about my suburb whenever I come home in the wee hours from a night out. The N80 Night Ride bus drops me off outside the station and I stumble home, often drunkenly. I guess when you're drunk, you love everyone and everything, i.e. I luurrrvee yooou, et cetera. I think it's the street and house lights. They make everything seem soft and pretty, as opposed to the harsh light of day. Hmm, must get pictures...
So Simon's been telling me about this new bar guy at his work. A flamer, apparently, and he's been causing quite a stir at this particular bar down in the Shire. Of course, Simon's straight so my usual inquiry of "is he hot?" doesn't usually wash. Instead I have to rely on the question: "would I find him hot?". Only then will I get an answer. But it's essentially the same question, asking the same thing. Ah straight lads.
You know, not that looks are all that important to me. Or anything.
Listening to:
Title: Le Pastie de la Bourgeoisie
Artist: Belle & Sebastian
Album/station: Push Barman to Open Old Wounds (2005)
Length: 3.10
So I went on a ride tonight instead of during the sensible daylight hours. See, my day was filled with a few odd jobs and, erm, napping. And Faceless CorporationTM wasn't in need of my valuable services so my night was free. Perfect. The new head- and tail-lights I got the other day paid for themselves twice over this evening. I was very nearly sideswiped by a B-Double. A B-FUCKING-DOUBLE! Ahem. And on a narrow back street, too. I would've shat myself if it wasn't for the massive saddle sore I was developing.
Near-death experiences aside, I think I'm beginning to warm to the local area where I live. I used to loathe this brand of medium-density suburbia. It all seems as if it's all been slapped together, not homes but places where people sleep in between days at work. I craved for something more urban - maybe it was the wannabe yuppy and/or boho in me. But riding through it tonight, and then chilling out at home with all the windows open and the TV, radio and stereo all silent, it all seems sort of pleasant. There are smells of someone's cooking on the breeze and there are sounds from someone else's TV somewhere. And the crickets, too.
I usually only get this warm and fuzzy feeling about my suburb whenever I come home in the wee hours from a night out. The N80 Night Ride bus drops me off outside the station and I stumble home, often drunkenly. I guess when you're drunk, you love everyone and everything, i.e. I luurrrvee yooou, et cetera. I think it's the street and house lights. They make everything seem soft and pretty, as opposed to the harsh light of day. Hmm, must get pictures...
So Simon's been telling me about this new bar guy at his work. A flamer, apparently, and he's been causing quite a stir at this particular bar down in the Shire. Of course, Simon's straight so my usual inquiry of "is he hot?" doesn't usually wash. Instead I have to rely on the question: "would I find him hot?". Only then will I get an answer. But it's essentially the same question, asking the same thing. Ah straight lads.
You know, not that looks are all that important to me. Or anything.
Listening to:
Title: Le Pastie de la Bourgeoisie
Artist: Belle & Sebastian
Album/station: Push Barman to Open Old Wounds (2005)
Length: 3.10