Georgiezine

Last weekend I was at the bello markets, sitting in front of wallaby tracks stall, trying on their cindarella shoes (red, cute, didn't buy them). I looked up and recognised this guy... how do I describe him? Tallish, hippiesh, in that way that well educated guys sometimes have going on (cloth shirts and sandals). And I recognised him as a former anonymous hospital colleague, who used to regularly visit the Hobart library Friday afternoons ("it's him!" I'd hiss to Petra at Rektango "don't look until I tell you!" and she'd obediently tolerate my suspicious and lame ass teenage behaviour). Funnily enough, I'd just been reminded of this behaviour by a Black Books episode, and then I saw the source of all this regressive behaviour two states away from his home territory. And I let him walk past (he was with his Mum) and disappear into the crowds of a country market... And the funny thing is that's the second time I've seem him since I left...

My friend arrived in Adelaide 3 hours before I will. When we spoke she was in the changerooms, having realised in the short strip between plane and terminal that it was far hotter in the city than she'd prepared for. I'd just been in Redeye Records, where the temperateure was at least 2 degrees hotter than the rest of the city, with an odour I could only attribute to all guys there wearing black jeans and other unfriendly summer attire (like the long sleeved nehru top that a guy I recognised from Hobart was wearing by the second hand cd racks). Then went and saw the Fiona Hall exhibition at MCA. See it! It is so good, she's got the same turn of thought, originality as Tracy Moffat, but she can keep presenting her ideas in a range of mediums-scupture, photography, installation, anthropology. Loved all the school girls tagging behind their teacher, nodding and mumbling embarrassed answers to their enthusiastic teacher's questions. Also visited the Julian Ashton school, ...

Introduced to this idea when reading Douglas Coupland's Generation X on the rocks at Kingston beach. There is so much I still love about this book and relate to, 8 or 9 years after reading it for the first time. Andy and Claire, on one chapter, are thinking about obsessions with strangers, the person that you only barely know, and possibly recognise isn't even a particularly nice person, but if you got home one day and they'd left a message on your answering machine saying "It's me, I love you, drop everything and come to Florida with me", you would. Andy's was the checkout girl at his local; Claire's was Tobias, a money trading suit in New York that was So Good Looking, Dag's was Elvissa. In real life, P's was the landscaper that fixed her parent's garden when she was 14 and she only ever managed to photograph his back; I told her mine but then queried it's acceptability. P's was perfect, someone she knew for a week, and no longer ...