Friday, June 09, 2006
a blog of observations
i wanted to blog earlier, but blogger has been down all morning. and yes, my day has basically revolved around waiting for blogger to go back online so that i can blog.
as usual, i don't really have anything to blog about. but i find that it keeps me sane. blogging is much healthier than having conversations and expressing my emotions with myself.
a day and a half remains on my download of windows vista. it better be worth it. i strongly doubt that it will be.
both today and yesterday i was up before the birds, and walking around the streets of brighton at 6.30am. am i crazy? or did i just draw the short straw for shifts at browns this week?
on thursday morning i observed a strange phenomenon as i grudgingly plodded through the concrete jungle some like to call suburbia. i first noticed it as i got about half way down my street, when a man with a snazzy looking road bike exited his house. he smiled and gave me a nod of what must have been acceptance into the dark wonders of a cold brighton (east at this point) morning.
with my hands shoved deep into my jacket pockets i crossed hampton street and came to the second phenomena. two ladies, of about 40 years each were jogging along in the near freezing weather in tiny little shorts and t-shirts. they looked creepy and far too keen to excersize for my liking, so i decided not to make eye contact, and kept concentrating on the handy work of the finely crafted pavement.
yet despite my efforts to avoid these brighton ladies, as they passed me they both smiled and, in unison - as if they were the same person - greeted me with a very chirpy "goodmorning!"
i felt my stomache churn at the sound.
so for 5 or 6 minutes i was left to ponder over what i had just whitnessed. it was about 6.45 on a thursday morning, and i had encountered 2 (two) separate parties whome have both actually enjoyed being awake AND active at that evil time in the morning.
whilst walking through my favourite part of my walk, the park, i was horror struck when, god forbid, i saw... dog walkers! not just one set of dog walkers... but three, and possibly four sets of them. however, thankfully due to my careful planning, i managed to escape the paths of two or three of them. at the time i thought i was free of all the demons in that park. but no, just as i entered the north section, two golden retrievers and their owners came bounding out of the growth. sure, i was startled... but what i had already whitnessed that morning had prepared me for any such scenario.
then the worst happened. i could see it happening... and it seemed to happen in slow motion at the time. i saw the male dog owner open his mouth, i could smell the joy on his breath as it evaporated in the cold, and i heard his jaw click as he said "g'morning!" - i'm not sure if he could sense my fear and disgust, but he continued with the most horrifying statement: "beautiful morning isn't it?"
now, i wasn't trying to be rude to the man, i honestly wasn't. but my vocal cords don't actually function before 7am. i did open my mouth, and wiggled my tongue... but nothing came out. so i kept walking. actually, thats a lie, as soon as i left the park i ran the rest of the way to work.
perhaps it was just a once in a blue moon type thing? as in... there are randomly many happy people around before the sun rises every 8th of June... but no. i tested out this theory again this morning on my way to work. and yet more happy brightonites attacked my teenage angst.
what is wrong with society?
last night i went to an amazing gig. pure.coolness.of.the.amazing.variety.
i went to see one of my favourite bands, the red paintings at the northcote social club.
it was a themed gig. and pure awesomeness reverberated around the room.
the support band were pretty nifty, except for the fact that the lead guitar looked like creepy ben from uni.
im bored now. and i want to chill whilst listening to my new CD's. i was bad last night and went to JB to buy just one $10 cable. but came out with $205 worth of CD's and DVD's.
i need to be slapped.
