I’m writing this while it’s still fresh, though fresh may not be the word considering I’m suffering from sleep deprivation.
I can’t condense the two weeks, and I can’t tell you all of it.
But if you’re interested, I’ll bring out some of the shiny bits.
Trams are so much better than trains. I think it’s the whole slow turns and weaving in and out of streets. More variety. Trains just rocket through. Imagine dating someone like that: would you prefer someone who just wants to get to the end, or someone who can show you the sights?
Hot stinging showers in cramped shower cubicles are the best. With mirrors.
The city council kept its promise. One day in 1997, some old lady told me she was collecting donations so the city council could build a better library for my old neighbourhood. I was in a foul mood and told her “Suuuuuure, here’s 20 bucks I’d otherwise flush down the toilet!” I basically threw money at her just to spite her. She just smiled politely and said “Thank you, young man.” The original library was smaller than a grocery store. It now has its own 2-storey building, and you couldn’t see all of the books just looking into the window.
I run better in cold weather. I usually do about 8kms twice a week in KL. I ran three times a week for two weeks, clocking more than 13kms each run. Mind you, this was only a personal best. On Saturday, I ran alongside members of the Victorian Road Runners doing their 8km time trials. Good thing I wasn’t a member cos even the under-15s kicked my ass.
I think I’ll go back to school at some point. And I want to teach a class.
My body can take a lotta bacon grease.
Melbourne is the new Hollywood. Eva Longoria (exotic slutty one from Desperate Housewives), Reiko Aylesworth (constipated, tight-skirted one from 24), Carson Kressley (fahionista Queer Eye) were in town. Eva appeared in a big budget ad campaign for Myer, an Aussie department store, so the appearance mighta been part of the contract. All of them turned up for the Melbourne Cup, a horse-racing carnival and public holiday. Imagine: your government declares a holiday so you can gamble! How cool is that?
I took lotsa photographs. A lot of them are crap and they’re mostly landscapes but I paid more attention to stuff. Not just knowing they’re there, but appreciating them. Lotsa times my mind colours the pictures, altering their detail. But capturing the way things happened and the way you remember them can be very different things, and I want to spend more time on the latter.
I discovered chicks with short hair so do it for me. Specifically short, carrot-topped chicks wearing white sleeveless singlets with green clover prints and khakis with the edges of the pockets slightly frayed. Not that I actually, specifically, have a fixation on anyone. Nevermind.
My hair grows faster in Melbourne. I shave and after breakfast, I’ve got stubble. Why the hell can’t that happen here? Maybe it’s the bacon grease.
I went to a ‘real’ Melbourne rave. I’ve seen people on drugs, but I’ve never actually seen people take them. I’m not into techno or crowds but still, it was educational. I know now why they walk around with lollipops and baby pacifiers (their teeth grind when they’re high). Raving has just exploded in KL, but they’ve just copied the style and not the spirit. Everyone has the same clothes and moves. Nobody looks the same at a Melbourne rave. Not the way they dress, not the way they dance. Nobody judges you there. Which is why a bald Chinese guy with the dance moves of a block of wood won’t draw funny looks.
It wasn’t really a holiday. It was more like going home. I felt immediately comfortable. And when I left, I didn’t feel sad. After all I’m coming back.