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squirmeliaA Yeni Vatan Turkish newspaper sat opposite me on the tram and I flicked through it, briefly.
Memories fade so quickly sometimes, I am surprised.
"According to traditional custom, Aboriginal people are abandoned if they cannot travel," the description of a painting told me, at The Shared Sky exhibition at the NGV.
I looked at star trails and photos of space, that did not look real.
I watched the reflections of people in the window of the tourist information centre at Fed Square, while I waited for someone who was asleep, and perhaps dreaming, at that point.
I saw Tim Minchin perform that night, as part of the comedy festival, and one story he told was of having dinner with a girl named Storm: "Isn’t this enough? Just this world? Just this beautiful, complex wonderfully unfathomable world? How does it so fail to hold our attention that we have to diminish it with the invention of cheap, man-made myths and monsters?" Full beat poem on YouTube: Storm.
A band played loudly in ACDC Lane, as we walked past.
A black-haired girl on the tram, sounding sad and angry, spoke to someone unknown on the phone, "I was jumping around, screaming," she said. As I listened to more and more of the conversation, it sounded as if she had been rejected from a band, and I felt sad.
"We hope you liked our messages", the pavement had written on it.
Memories fade so quickly sometimes, I am surprised.
"According to traditional custom, Aboriginal people are abandoned if they cannot travel," the description of a painting told me, at The Shared Sky exhibition at the NGV.
I looked at star trails and photos of space, that did not look real.
I watched the reflections of people in the window of the tourist information centre at Fed Square, while I waited for someone who was asleep, and perhaps dreaming, at that point.
I saw Tim Minchin perform that night, as part of the comedy festival, and one story he told was of having dinner with a girl named Storm: "Isn’t this enough? Just this world? Just this beautiful, complex wonderfully unfathomable world? How does it so fail to hold our attention that we have to diminish it with the invention of cheap, man-made myths and monsters?" Full beat poem on YouTube: Storm.
A band played loudly in ACDC Lane, as we walked past.
A black-haired girl on the tram, sounding sad and angry, spoke to someone unknown on the phone, "I was jumping around, screaming," she said. As I listened to more and more of the conversation, it sounded as if she had been rejected from a band, and I felt sad.
"We hope you liked our messages", the pavement had written on it.
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no subject
Date: 2009-04-21 07:55 am (UTC)A friend convinced me to sign my name on a wall inside a drain, which felt odd. I didn't know what to write, but he told me to just sign my name there, in a little square.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-21 12:27 pm (UTC)My name is inside a very grafittied drainpipe in Springfield.