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May. 25th, 2004 07:40 pmThe inane babble of Triple J is bad company tonight. Consideration of my dinner options led to the selection of a juicy pink grapefruit. Perhaps not the most nutritious choice, but a good counter to the entire packet of rice crackers with cheese consumed earlier. That awkward combination of restlessness and tiredness leaves me with no will to do anything, but frustration and boredom at my lack of activity. So here I am, pissing the time away, eating grapefruit and rambling. The house feels very empty tonight. My own lack of motivation is my destruction - it would be so easy to break this cycle, if only I could be bothered. Or perhaps I am only human, and we are born to be gregarious, creatures of the pack. Whoever heard of a lone fish?
I'm learning to kiss arse with subtlety, that politics is paramount in the workplace and that if you sit quietly you will hear most everything. The tedium puts coins in my pocket and food in my belly, and yes, there is potential, if I play it right. The CD of my selection reminds me of an old friend I don't see enough of and makes me wish we inhabited a smaller country. Or better still the same city - it would be nice to bring all my friends home. But people grow, go their own way. We all find our feet, often in unfamiliar shoes, so long as we remember where we used to tread.
Pleasantly enough, money seems to be sorting itself out, despite expenditure sabotage over the weekend. A new bike, booze and a banquet and still I'm not broke. Wait until the panel-beater's bills arive... But credit has been applied for and within the fortnight I should hold shiny new plastic and embark upon my first voyage into personal debt (well, not including almighty HECS). And if debt heralds the arrival of my new vehicle and the freedom it shall provide, then so be it! At least a change of scenery will be easier ;-)
"The seasons change with the scenery" - I'm sure that's a Simon and Garfunkel lyric. My hearing is strange tonight: the counter-melodies in the treble sound far clearer than usual, not consumed by the bass. I love the way that music can capture a mood, a moment, an eternity. I can lose myself for hours. And hours keep on losing themselves as week slides into week in this pattern of melancholy we call working life. Even bitter medicine tastes better when shared, and the weekend emerges like a mirage. This Saturday, motivation permitting, another outing - Kazu Kimura at the Elephant & Wheelbarrow. This town astounds me: such a DJ playing for $7 in the basement of a pseudo-English pub. Blessings counted, then promptly forgotten. Love this city and it's ability to absorb you without noticing when it was you started to belong.
I'm learning to kiss arse with subtlety, that politics is paramount in the workplace and that if you sit quietly you will hear most everything. The tedium puts coins in my pocket and food in my belly, and yes, there is potential, if I play it right. The CD of my selection reminds me of an old friend I don't see enough of and makes me wish we inhabited a smaller country. Or better still the same city - it would be nice to bring all my friends home. But people grow, go their own way. We all find our feet, often in unfamiliar shoes, so long as we remember where we used to tread.
Pleasantly enough, money seems to be sorting itself out, despite expenditure sabotage over the weekend. A new bike, booze and a banquet and still I'm not broke. Wait until the panel-beater's bills arive... But credit has been applied for and within the fortnight I should hold shiny new plastic and embark upon my first voyage into personal debt (well, not including almighty HECS). And if debt heralds the arrival of my new vehicle and the freedom it shall provide, then so be it! At least a change of scenery will be easier ;-)
"The seasons change with the scenery" - I'm sure that's a Simon and Garfunkel lyric. My hearing is strange tonight: the counter-melodies in the treble sound far clearer than usual, not consumed by the bass. I love the way that music can capture a mood, a moment, an eternity. I can lose myself for hours. And hours keep on losing themselves as week slides into week in this pattern of melancholy we call working life. Even bitter medicine tastes better when shared, and the weekend emerges like a mirage. This Saturday, motivation permitting, another outing - Kazu Kimura at the Elephant & Wheelbarrow. This town astounds me: such a DJ playing for $7 in the basement of a pseudo-English pub. Blessings counted, then promptly forgotten. Love this city and it's ability to absorb you without noticing when it was you started to belong.
