Oh no Metro! My car was in need of inspection and having a pathological fear of the rogue mechanic in isolated industrial estates I elected the rooftop k-mart auto to do my inspecting. This is how I spent two hours of my life in a shopping centre navigating by smudges on tiles and pondering the nature of the labyrinth.
The residents of Newtown (Goths, Punks, Emos, Indie Kids, Hippies, just the usual) can ordinarily be found pushing their ironic granny shopping trolleys around in the Metro so imagine my surprise when I saw middle aged people in nicely ironed clothes wandering about buying things and smiling at each other saying things like Hello George how’s the wife? I don’t think I’ve ever been out and about before nine on a Saturday before, I didn’t realise I was time sharing my suburb with the middle classes.
I determined to read as much of the newspaper as possible, after a mere thirteen minutes navigating I located both a newsagent and a café. Brilliant until I tasted the coffee. Repellent. Utterly repellent and the very small cupcake (without pink icing) was $2.50 but any negative thoughts about coffee were soon chased away by the discovery of the words glioblastoma multiforme. It was love at first sight. These are the best new words I have discovered since vicissitudes and unitard.
Everything was brilliant until my space was invaded by people called Keith and Sharon. Keith was wearing high pants and an ironed tucked in polo shirt, Sharon was wearing floral jeans and a smock top, as if this wasn’t horrifying enough she managed to combine bad hair, cat wee perfume and teeth indistinguishable from gums. This is how I ended up reading the newspaper outside in the gutter just near the bus stop until the icy wind of death made it necessary to relocate to the park bench weirdly placed outside the pet shop.
Try as I might I could not disappear inside the newspaper. Millions of words came clambering at my eyeballs in articles about brain cancer and rock’n’roll and Post Modern Australian fiction but the Metro kept claiming my attention so I walked. I circumnavigated the entire shopping centre five times searching for meaning under fluorescent lights, this is not something I am going to recommend.
The Metro turned out to be unplottable, every corner delivered me somewhere I thought was five minutes from now. It seems the architects have been studying their myth and history. Imagine, a labyrinth in my very own neighbourhood, how very unexpected. I think I’m going stick with walking the streets and pondering on corners in the electric daylight from now on. In a strange twist of events it seems it was the Flaneur that conquered the Minotaur.
The residents of Newtown (Goths, Punks, Emos, Indie Kids, Hippies, just the usual) can ordinarily be found pushing their ironic granny shopping trolleys around in the Metro so imagine my surprise when I saw middle aged people in nicely ironed clothes wandering about buying things and smiling at each other saying things like Hello George how’s the wife? I don’t think I’ve ever been out and about before nine on a Saturday before, I didn’t realise I was time sharing my suburb with the middle classes.
I determined to read as much of the newspaper as possible, after a mere thirteen minutes navigating I located both a newsagent and a café. Brilliant until I tasted the coffee. Repellent. Utterly repellent and the very small cupcake (without pink icing) was $2.50 but any negative thoughts about coffee were soon chased away by the discovery of the words glioblastoma multiforme. It was love at first sight. These are the best new words I have discovered since vicissitudes and unitard.
Everything was brilliant until my space was invaded by people called Keith and Sharon. Keith was wearing high pants and an ironed tucked in polo shirt, Sharon was wearing floral jeans and a smock top, as if this wasn’t horrifying enough she managed to combine bad hair, cat wee perfume and teeth indistinguishable from gums. This is how I ended up reading the newspaper outside in the gutter just near the bus stop until the icy wind of death made it necessary to relocate to the park bench weirdly placed outside the pet shop.
Try as I might I could not disappear inside the newspaper. Millions of words came clambering at my eyeballs in articles about brain cancer and rock’n’roll and Post Modern Australian fiction but the Metro kept claiming my attention so I walked. I circumnavigated the entire shopping centre five times searching for meaning under fluorescent lights, this is not something I am going to recommend.
The Metro turned out to be unplottable, every corner delivered me somewhere I thought was five minutes from now. It seems the architects have been studying their myth and history. Imagine, a labyrinth in my very own neighbourhood, how very unexpected. I think I’m going stick with walking the streets and pondering on corners in the electric daylight from now on. In a strange twist of events it seems it was the Flaneur that conquered the Minotaur.
Comments
The straight doesn't last too long though. I think it actually looks really bizarre, like I'm a whole other person or something.
And your hair looks amazing!
loved this post, another prime eg. of daily grind reading both interstingly and amusingly. and isn't it amazing the difference pre and post noon can make to who and what you see in your world.
xoxo Rups