The quiet noise of the ABC news radio music, with the gentle tone of how many hours it is. 3. The official Australian ABC accent of the newsreader, not quite British and not quite Australian, kind of like a grandfather I never knew. The hum of the car. The smell of my blanket and pillow, safe and warm. Constant sleepiness, as my family heads to some holiday. Two more hours until McDonalds breakfast and until my sister and I can choose the music, and not have the ABC radio on. Randomly getting bored and I poke my sister’s ear through the pillows on her side of the car.

Have you ever decided to speak in random gibberish while looking in the mirror, imagining yourself as foreign? Yeah neither.

I had a good time with Dad when he was down. I think the main lesson I learnt is, if you ask your parents questions, they actually might answer in an open and honest way when you are both adults. I learnt so much. And I got to go to dinner with Dad and an old school mate of his. Watching them talk about the funny and eventful memories they have from when they were my age and younger gave me a grin. It is those times I do see myself in my Dad.

I attempted a favourite slice of mine that I have always wanted to be able to make. And somehow, it worked! Though Dorris and Bev never showed up for afternoon tea.

I like the Weepies. I cant recall if I have said this before and it is not about their name. If anything, their band name is quite sad when their music is quite raw and happy. Well, this one isnt as much, but I still like them. They bring back sad, sometimes painful but also happy memories. This is from their latest album and they sound just as good live, rare rare rare.

Sometimes I find writing here, I write everything but what the main thought of mine is right now. I try and suck out any other random passing thoughts, even for just a second, so that I do not type what I am really thinking. Like a dog that is really selective about what cats to chase. Or like a bus that is picking everyone up, not just the seniors.

Personalised Street

I have this awesome new scarf, it is awesome simply because it was made for me. My friend Lucy actually knits, and she has since I have known her, and I finally have something that was made for me, clothing wise. The knit feels soft and when you run your fingers over each loop in the stitching, it is a loop, every loop, that was made with a purpose of creating warmth. Whoah whoah, lets not go deep with knitting!

I hate sunny windy days. It defeats the purpose of the sun. Love overcast windy days because they make sense to me. They tell me to stay inside and nap, or watch episode 5 of season 5 of Weeds, maybe episode 6 too. But sunny days in general, you feel you should go outside, but if the wind is howling, you still feel you cannot be inside. See my point? Yeah thought so. Pretty sure Sue does, while she types up that report for Mr Ruso. Dont ask me who Sue is.

Dad has just landed at Melbourne Airport, he should get to my house soon. He is here to visit for a few days, I feel lucky that he makes the effort to come here. So the pressure is on to make it fun, though already have plans for a dinner tonight with Marissa and Dad.

I still like my street sign, it is “My Road”. I could use many metaphors, or the other one that is like a metaphor, on the symbolism of this. But then I dont get to talk about how awesome cream is on top of porridge. Brown sugar, milk and a small serving of cream, makes porridge just OK.

Love this photo… A fun and relaxing morning up the mountains a few weeks ago. I already did a report on that.

PS I like this song. I think the trumpet reminds me of the ABC News song, which you know, romantic and stuff. “?”.

Bells Beach. I am so warm.

I feel that in my life, every relationship I have had, I feel either they owe me something or I owe them something, for the hurt they or myself caused. Is this true for everyone? My first serious relationship, I hurt her a lot and I think I felt I always had to owe her something for what I did. And maybe I still do feel like that. Then my first relationship with a guy, who I knew I loved, he hurt me, and ever since I feel he owes me. Maybe it is that feeling of, you need to give me that part of my heart back. I think about those I have hurt and I search out inside of me, what can I do to make amends. Is that the Christian in me? The way I was brought up? I am thinking I need to accept people hurt people, and vice versa. And evil intentions were never at work, and people mend. I feel I mend, but sometimes reintroduce that feeling of, I need to fill in that pain I caused. But I cant do that, it is not how it works. I dont wanna be one of those bitter angry gay men in their 40s who snap at people behind him at a concert who are “talking too loud”.

And I find I am in a pattern. Arent we told we get into patterns? And that creates no expectations… Once again I face a situation I have been in before. The point here is not to spell out the specifics, but it makes us analyse ourselves, hey, at least I am consistent! Living for the moment is magical, but when the realism side of me kicks in, it kicks that magic in the gut.

I looked across the tram carriage tonight, 95% people stared at their phones. I shook my head at how we are such a head down, immersed in our own worlds with technology. Then glanced down, I had a blackberry and an iPhone in my hand. Hypocrite. Blackberry is for work, iPhone is totally for my social life. Phew, glad we got that cleared up.

That photo frame still sits there, nothing in it yet. There are plenty of photos I could pull out in my boxes in the other room, but I just have no desire.

When Patrick is on the phone he doodles a lot, and mainly sketches eye glasses. Bad ones.

I bought more bubblegum balls for my bubblegum ball machine. My Pop gave it to me when I was 10. You have to put money in, but only small coins, bigger coins do not fit. Though if ants wanted to get inside without paying, they could.


I have a dislike for hipstamatic photos. Those photos that people place on facebook and twitter, that have a filter on them and usually of something pointless or non exciting, with or without the filter. I wanted to vent this, and then I can move on. Until I see another feed on my facebook wall of a random sign or quirky lunch that has a blue filter on it. Deep.

Marissa and I drove up to a place called Kallista today. It was beautiful. Good company, good music playing, and beautiful views. Though the auxiliary cord in Marissa’s car has to be jammed into the glove box so the music plays through both speakers. It makes it more novel. We made a few wrong turns but that just meant we got there faster, as google maps I think deliberately chooses the slower route, to act superior. That or it was a massive fluke.

We entered the cute little tea house with trees surrounding it. We ordered bowls of hot drink and sat there and talked. Marissa sketched and we talked about writing. And arts and magazines. Oh I have to stop there cause this is sounding like some sort of… organic and peace loving world. It was but dont worry we went back to Melbourne after and found some maccas cup in the gutter and a grumpy man impatient at the traffic lights.

I have been quite cultured this last week. I went to a musical called “Next to Normal” and apart from the bad American accents, it wasnt half bad. So maybe a bit more than half cause of the bad American accents. I also went to see the opening of the Melbourne International Jazz Festival. I dont know why I was there, as I hate Jazz. But it was with my friend Damian and his friend Emma who has become my friend along with another lovely lady Kirsten, so wanted to come.

I asked Emma in a whisper, “Do you like Jazz?” “Yes, do you?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I dont know”

Though it was actually quite good. Some guy ruined “Moon River” for me though. Eddie Perfect I think his name was. Shudder. It reminds me of falling asleep to Breakfast at Tiffany’s on my first night in Singapore with Neal and my Bro and his wife. Makes me feel safe and chilled..