At 30 hours the phone rang. It wasn't for me, it was some guy Grizelda had been chatting to on the internet. How does that work? I don't think I like the idea of that instant typey message thing. So I've given up waiting for someone to rescue me because its just not going to happen. I'm not even going to rescue myself, I'm just going to sit and hope to get struck by lightning, develop consumption or have a brain fever and die tragically on the Mores (Enmore, Stanmore I don't care which one) or the Downs (Camperdown, Marrickville they're both downhill). Unless of course someone does eventually phone me. I'll keep counting the hours until someone does, just to see.
At 49 and quarter hours my mobile rang. It was my brother telling me about a website that sells military hoodies. I rather want one but fear the general disdain of the Newtown locals would wear me down, they are very judgmental those Newtonites for all their dreadlocks, eye makeup and fancy pants. My brother and I have had some memorable occasions dressed in military gear. Once we donned gore-tex camouflage overalls and ran breathless and silent through the bush to the clearing and let off fireworks.
Another vivid memory is of us sitting in army hats at the bottom of the driveway carefully preparing and eating a ration pack as though we were in the trenches. Ration packs used to come with a tiny stand and fire starter style brick that you set on fire and warmed your canned food with.
Comments
Rups
btw - the snippets I'm getting from your room are very groovy.
30 hours ... it's not that people don't need to talk to you as much as you need to talk to them, people communicate like waves, sometimes the tide is in and sometimes the tide is out ... xox Rups but I do understand those moments, they can be utter frustration at times.