Hair pulled so tight you can see her skeleton. Her heels are high and her bag is snakeskin. He waits for an elevator, 1 to 9, a lady walks in and waits by his side. Headphone wielding to the Nicholas Building, he trips on a pothole that’s not been filled in. Sit on the grass building pyramids out of Coke cans.” He screams “I’m not going to work today! Gonna count the minutes that the trains run late. Rips off his tie, hands it to a homeless man, sleeping in the corner of a Metro bus stand. Wakes up at a quarter past nine, fare evades his way down the 96 tram line.īreakfast on the run again, he’s well aware he’s dropping soy linseed Vegemite crumbs everywhere.įeeling sick at the sight of his computer he dodges his way through the Swanston commuters. Oliver Paul, twenty years old, thick head of hair worries he’s going bald. The law of averages says we’ll stop in the next town where petrol price is down (what do I know anyhow?) If you can’t see me I can’t see you. There’s a bypass over Holbrook now, paid for with burgers no doubt, I’ve lost count of all the cows. More people die on the road than they do in the ocean, maybe we should mull over culling cars instead of sharks (or just lock them up in parks where we can go and view them). Sometimes I think a single sneeze could be the end of us, my hay-fever is turning up, just swerved into a passing truck.īig business overtaking, without indicating he passes on the right, been driving through the night to bring us the best price. Taxidermied kangaroos are littered on the shoulders.Ī possum Jackson Pollock is painted on the tar. Heading down the Highway Hume somewhere at the end of June. Never having too much money I get the cheap stuff at the supermarket, but they’re all pumped up with shit, a friend told me that they stick nicotine in the apples. Jen insists that we buy organic vegetables and I must admit that I was a little skeptical at first a little pesticide can’t hurt? I think she’s clever cos she stops people dying.Īnaphylactic and super hypo-condriactic, should’ve stayed in bed today I much prefer the mundane. The paramedic thinks i’m clever cos i play guitar. Halfway down high street, Andy looks ambivalent, he’s probably wondering what i’m doing getting in an ambulance. Reminds me of the time when i was really sick and i had too much psuedoefedryn and i couldn’t sleep at night. I get adrenalin straight to the heart, I feel like Uma Thurman post-overdosin' kick start. I’d rather die than owe the hospital till I get old. My throat feels like a funnel filled with weet bix and kerosene and oh no, next thing i know they call up triple o. I’m breathing but i’m wheezing, feel like i’m emphysem-in’. My hands are shaky, my knees are weak, I can’t seem to stand on my own two feet. I feel pro-active, i pull out weeds, all of a sudden I’m having trouble breathing in. Sunflowers, bean sprouts, sweet corn and radishes. I wanna grow tomatoes on the front steps. The nice lady next door talks of green beds and all the nice things that she wants to plant in them. Life’s getting hard in here so i do some gardening.Īnything to take my mind away from where it’s sposed to be. We should ammend that, I pull the sheets back, it’s 40 degrees and i feel like i’m dying. The yard is full of hard rubbish it’s a mess and I guess the neighbours must think we run a meth lab. It’s a monday, it’s so mundane, what exciting things will happen today? I sleep in late another day oh what a wonder oh what a waste.
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