the ’sham

Having just returned from a trip to Melbourne, I’m catching up on my recordings. The latest development (which emerged from reading aloud together with Lizzie during the trip) is that the recordings are a bit more interesting when they have a live audience. Lizzie was a good audience because she had never read the original stories before.

Today, sitting with Vanessa and Tim in my loungeroom, I recorded “The Lost Vignettes” which was posted last year on the 19th of April. Both V and T are familiar with the stories, so there is some reflection and chatting about the events and places depicted. We share the reading of comments contributed by blog readers - Vanessa does the female voices, and Tim does Alex Bruen, which is kind of fun.

In “The Lost Vignettes” we hear about Marie and Chris, punks, “tag” graffiti, the Palace Pantry, and we sit in the sun with Bruce watching the dogs in Petersham Park.

Listen in to the story here [15min, 15mb, mp3]
Read the original posting here.

Saturday, 7.21am:
An overcast morning. I open the kitchen door to survey the street. The block of flats across the way has done a big “hard rubbish” purge. An old mattress, metal ironing board frame, wooden clothes rack, dead TV. Actually, it looks like someone has moved out. That’s the second family this month. Chris said the building’s owned by the church - they house refugees there for up to six months at a time. A man shuffles past the pile of junk, noses around, selects a plastic mop, and continues on his way. Without warning, Drazic appears at my feet. Has he been out all night? I scoop some grutz into his bowl. He wolfs down his breakfast.

And now, I’m sitting in the dark, with a cup of lemon and ginger, typing. All is quiet.

So far so good.
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On Wednesday night Bec came home late from work. We watched a bit of TV together. On Lateline, there was a report about the booming price of petrol. It’s now pushing $1.40 a litre, and there was the treasurer, looking somewhat amazed that the hike in transport costs hasn’t really resulted (yet) in a general lift in inflation. “So far, so good,” he said to the camera.
Bec: “We really are going to run those oil supplies down to nothing before we start thinking about different energy sources, aren’t we?”
Me: “Well, it’s just human nature. For instance, in theory it should not be difficult for us to predict when we are going to run out of toilet paper or washing powder at home. But we always do, we run em down to nothing and then there’s a minor crisis before we get around to doing anything about it. The oil issue is more or less the same thing on a larger scale…”

Sure enough, yesterday, my dirty clothes were piled high in the basket, and my stubble was moving from “designer” to “vagrant”. There was nothing for it. It was time for a visit to the chemist. I got washing powder and shaving cream. To show how highly evolved I am, I even splashed out on toilet paper, although we still have a roll and a half to go.
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It’s come to my attention that I am writing too much. I need to cut down, see if I can say what I need to say, but in fewer words. Because of my excessively verbose accounts of some recent events, a lot of great stuff has dropped through the net. Here are a few brief “vignettes” to get us all up to speed…
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