Wednesday, November 14, 2007

The perfect team.

Reader beware: Parts of the following post contains mushy observations that would get a journalist fired for being cliched and hackneyed [not sure what hackneyed means exactly but I reckon this fits the bill].

I was standing on platform 4 of Flinders Street Station tonight, waiting for Connex to get their shit together and send me a train. The train was sufficiently delayed that I was seriously entertaining the idea of buying something colloquially known as 'heart attack in a paper bag' from the purveyors of fried nastiness that live in their boxes of evil on the platform.

Luckily I was saved from this fate when something far better caught my attention. It was 'blind person and their guide dog rush hour' this evening for some reason. I had watched a guy cautiously crossing St Kilda Road a few minutes earlier while taking the tram, and Platform 4 at Flinders St was host to not one but two vision-impaired commuters with guide dogs heading in separate directions. The older of the two was standing next to me with his dog while I waited, and I found myself mesmerised for about quarter of an hour, just watching the two of them interact.

The old bloke was exactly that, a weather-beaten Aussie in his 60s with cropped hair and a hard-earned pot belly. The sort of guy you'd expect to see mowing the lawn outside his house in the summer with his shirt off, or happily ensconced in his shed at the bottom of the garden.

If his guide dog were human, they would have been twins; an old, solid golden lab, now turned white with age. The dog was sitting at ease, the harness resting on his back and his neck chain hanging loose as well. Even though the dog wasn't attached to his owner he was still connected, leaning ever so slightly against him while they both waited patiently amid the commuting chaos. The old bloke kept one hand by his side and would touch the dog's head every now and then. When a train came on their platform (the wrong one), the bloke put his hand reassuringly on the now-standing dog's shoulders and sat him back down (I can't figure out which train is arriving half the time so I was relieved to see it wasn't just me getting it wrong).

At one point, the man put his hand down to the dog's head and, in an almost imperceptible movement, softly massaged the dog's eyelids. I don't know what it was about this gesture but I stood there feeling ridiculously emotional for 6.57 on a Wednesday night. It was both moving and reassuring. I don't think I've seen a partnership that good in a fair while.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Speaking of muses ...

... my last post reminded me to spend a little time committing the actions of a mysterious benefactor to (electronic) paper.

But first a little background: My 'regular' readers will know that I am the proud owner of one slightly neglected scooter (it has been downgraded from 'love of my life' to 'weekend fling' since I resumed public transport commuting unfortunately ... it's not you, it's me). When i've finished using it for the day I park the aforementioned scoot on the sidewalk next to my house, bid it goodnight, remind it not to get nicked and then go indoors.

For the last nine months (on and off) however, I have been dancing a curious dance with a complete stranger, in which my unwitting scoot has played a rather pivotal role. Early this year I went out to my scoot in the morning, and saw a 5c coin on the seat. Assuming some community-minded individual had picked it up off the ground and left it there for whoever dropped it, I put it on the ground and carried on my way. The next day it was there on the seat again and I, getting a tad peeved that the community-minded individual clearly thought it was my 5c, put it on the ground again.

The next day, the coin was there again. And it was only then that I looked closer and realised that it was a 10c coin, not the 5c originally left. Being, at the time, on the subsistence wages of a university lecturer, I thought, 'right, finders keepers', popped it in my pocket and forgot about it ... until the next morning when a 5c coin was again sitting on the seat of my scoot.

This routine of 5c and 10c coins turning up on the seat of my scoot continued for a week or so, until I mentioned it to my partner, who pointed out that it wasn't particularly normal for scooters to spontaneously generate Australian currency and offered forth some rather interesting conspiracy theories. Amongst other amusing options, these included the possibility that someone was planning on stealing my bike and was paying it off 5c and 10c at a time.



Whatever the rationale, the money kept coming, and I kept putting it in my pocket. After a few weeks it occurred to me that whoever was doing it might have developed something of a compulsion and might need a hand to break the habit (I could have let them continue indefinitely but there are faster ways for me to get rich quick). I didn't quite know what I would say in a note (humiliating or embarrassing whoever it was was the last thing I wanted to do), so I simply started putting the coins into a glass jar that I left next to my fence. A few would accumulate there over a few days and then kids/misc opportunists would clean it out. I'm not sure exactly what effect this had but after a few weeks more the coins stopped, leaving me a touch sad but with a sense of things being back in their proper place.

I thought that was the end of it but a few weeks later it started again, 5 and 10 cents at a time. It petered out after a week but it still happens every now and then.

After some months of this happening, it's not something I resent in the slightest, rather I love the thought that there is someone mysterious, mad, magical or just interesting who thinks my scooter (or me) is worthy of such affection. My very own scooter fairy. Inspiration and warm fuzzy feelings come from the strangest places ... a cheap scooter parked on sidestreet in Brunswick is one of mine.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

A muse appears on the 12.01 Upfield line.

So it's been a fair while since I've written ~ during which time my Masters thesis has been finally finished, printed, bound and lovingly placed on a shelf never to be opened again.

I have also got thoroughly jack of being a university lecturer, so (never one to wallow and whinge more than strictly necessary or pleasurable) I have got a new job that will give me magnificent karma and very little pay. It starts in 6 weeks' time and is part of the reason that I am writing again, as it will involve me becoming 'exclusive' with my first love; public transport.

Yep, me and the Upfield line and the St Kilda Road tram will be becoming intimate over the next while ~ and in my own perverse nerdy way I am looking forward to it.

It's funny how things go full circle really ~ this blog was started way back in the day (May 2004 for anyone who is impressed by such things) as a way to record my observations of the myriad weird and wonderful people that I saw on my daily commute. Somewhere along the way I got a scooter which drastically altered the purpose of the blog, and Blogger got all fancy with photos and video capabilities etc. While multimedia fanciness is a lurvely thing, one of its effects has been to make me a little lazy in the writing department; relying on visual gags and bitchy comments rather than rich description and simple appreciation of difference in all its glory.

So, it seems strangely fitting that, as I am about to re-enter another public transport phase, the most magnificent muse should appear before me on the 12.01 Upfield line on the way into work today.

She got on a stop after I did, which allowed me to fully appreciate her exquisite uniqueness as she walked purposefully in my direction. One might say that her most distinctive feature was an oversize orange felt hat that Robin Hood might wear if he was observing 'take the piss out of your usual headgear day'. But 'distinctive' is a relative term when you consider that this was offset by a muted strawberry bag, and bright yellow leggings overlaid on vivid black and white striped tights. Most people would look seriously silly in this kind of ensemble but she looked fantastic and carried if off beautifully ~ the fact that she was drop dead gorgeous and of some sort of Asian descent (Thai or Burmese at a very uneducated stab) no doubt helped.

Anyhoo ~ she walked purposefully past me and straight out the door of the carriage. I assumed she was heading into the next one but she stopped and stood on the little platform between the carriages as the train rolled along. She was staring out at the world going by and I thought for one horrible moment that she was thinking about jumping off ~ but to my absolute relief and immense pleasure she started singing.

I was one of the few people facing in her direction so I found myself staring, entranced, at this young woman (mid-20s perhaps) standing between two train carriages, singing to herself and the world while looking completely, indisputably happy.

It occured to me while watching her that many people surveying the scene would assume she was in some way imbalanced ~ which tempered my smile just a tad because of the inference that it takes a mental illness to be prepared to express yourself with such simple beauty; honestly and without fear of judgement. If this is truly the case then my worries for the world are even more so after reflecting on this.

The cynic in me checked for the ubiquitous white earphones that seem to come with any commuter under 40 these days but there was nothing, she was just singing to herself and appreciating the view from the slightly gritty perspective of a surburban commuter train. Watching her sing in silence (I couldn't hear anything) was one of those rare experiences that makes you feel all uncool and mushy ~ one of those infectious joy kind of deals.


One of the reasons that I am leaving my current job as a lecturer is that I am finding myself becoming just a touch cynical about it ~ and that's not the kind of person I want to be ~ I want to be the kind of person that is entranced by uninhibited people singing on the train and who finds beauty in the everyday. Unbearably cliched and mushy I know but hey, I guess someone's gotta do it.

Over n' out :-)

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

High tech warfare.

This is the logo from an item of hand luggage that I bought in Koh Samui a year ago for $20. It has been extremely handy, having travelled to the UK, France, Singapore and New Zealand since then - it even survived being 'misplaced' en route to London (thanks Emirates!) and seems to cheerfully handle the ongoing trials and tribulations involved in being an international bag of mystery.

I credit this value for money and all round robustness to the fact that it is called 'Combat'. It is clearly a high tech, cutting edge, hardcore item of luggage of mass destruction - something the logo leaves the viewer in no doubt about.


Yay for incongruous branding - it makes life that little bit brighter :-)

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Bad hair transcends all politics.

While watching TV last night I had the pleasure of watching an interview on a current affairs show 'Lateline'. The interview in itself was unremarkable - a 15 minute 'hard news' interview with Labeed Abbawi, Deputy Foreign Minister of Iraq - 15 minutes of tedious and predictable proportions.

What WAS impressive, however, was the combination of:
  • A windy day
  • A fabulous 'comb-over'
  • Mr Abbawi's stoic refusal to acknowledge that he was in the midst of a hair crisis of monumental, nationwide, televised proportions.



Had me and the missus in hysterics for its duration.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Giddy up baybee

Well, will you look at that - mid-February 2007 was hiding behind my bedroom door and has just leapt out and whacked me on the head. Sneaky beggar.

Soooo - to continue with the pre-xmas theme on the joys of Singapore I would like to introduce my non-Asian readers to an amazing gadget that I was priviedged to see demonstrated on Orchard Road in Singapore in December: The iGallop.


This mind-boggling device is promoted as an 'exercise' machine - but, if we were all to stop beating around the bush (if you'll excuse the expression) it would perhaps be most appropriate on display at the Melbourne Sexpo. Methinks perhaps as well, that the target market for this particular exercise fad is husbands buying them for their wives - can't imagine why.

For your viewing pleasure I have included a video of the Chinese ads for it - which are more to the, ahem, 'point' than the uber cheesy and serious singaporean ones (also included below for comparison) - I know which ad would motivate me to buy it more. And I am not even going to ask what is going on in her pants in the Chinese ad :-s

I have also included a suggestion of a more appropriate use for the iGallop at the bottom - as ably demonstrated by Salad the Cat ... and yes, I promise I won't be posting 3 videos every time, am just excited by finally figuring out how to do it.