With no intent of saying goodbye, nor is there a vain intent of keeping in touch. No worthless plan to meet again can be broken. It was what it was and it is what it is, nothing more and nothing less.
The lonely company filled life of a traveled soul learns to say farewell without saying see you later and learns to love and leave in the same step.
Without a prolonged farewell, people walk in and out of life with the ease and grace of the unfamiliar. While it saddens us to say goodbye, time heals all and we move on to new adventures and new friendly strangers.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Diving anyone?
As I was edged closer and closer to the now open door, I could feel myself resisting the strength of the man behind me but failing with every inch he gained. In any foot hole, groove or lip I tried unsuccessfully to wedge my sneakers in - to brace myself from getting closer to the door. Surely the strength of my fear would overcome the strength of this man. Of course, my weakened legs couldn't find the leverage they required. The wind began to whip my face not too long after clear Perspex goggles snapped over my eyes. After looking down, my eyes lost all perception of reality. This isn't real, I kept telling myself It's not real, this isn't happening…
***
The moment the crazed man yelled "Surprise!" from the bus window, a seed of fear was sown into my brain. A slight apprehension clouded my eyes momentarily as I looked at the effective marketing plastered to the side of the 20-seater - TANDEM CAIRNS. Turning to Steve for an explanation, the look on my face revealed just that - surprise!
"What is this!?", I said.
"We're going sky-diving, baby", Steve replied.
"Oh my god! I actually want to make it to 21", I laughed as we boarded our transfer.
There it was - the seed. The seed of doubt and fear was there as we waited for more reluctant tourists to board the bus. As we weaved through the undulating landscape to Innisfail however, ease recaptured my mind. Beautiful as it was, Steve held my hand and we casually sipped our Red Bulls. Rain distorted the windows every now and then and morphed the Great Dividing Range into streaks of green. Excitement squashed any doubt as I went through the experience I was going to have over and over in my head - the absolute thrill of an act that defies reason. Why would anyone want to jump out of a perfectly good plane? As waves of doubt came and went that morning, I sometimes wondered the same thing.
The arrival at the sky-diving base in Innisfail bought me a strange sense of disappointment and relief at the same time. Combined in one overall feeling, I stared at the torrential down pour and couldn't be sure if I was happy or sad. Indeed, the sky-diving couldn't take place if it was raining.
Silently, Steve puffed away at the more frequent cigarette, his consciously calm face was giving way to his knotted stomach while he thought I wasn't watching. Indeed, the skydiving would continue and extreme stunts weren't his thing - at least not in the sense where he wasn't in control. I knew him well enough to know that jumping out of an aeroplane had escaped his list of possibilities until now. To his credit, it was my 21st birthday - he wanted it to be memorable and he was willing to join me in this to make it so. Adorning a sexy pair of stained red and yellow pants and my grey runners, at that point I was more worried about what I was wearing - I don't want to die looking like this.
***
…Of course this was happening - my feet were hanging lifelessly out the door of an aeroplane! My mind went blurry and all I could say was "No! No! No!" I turned my head to Steve, pleading with my eyes as I was yelling and grabbing at the fringing bars at the door. With all my might, I held on. With every bit of strength I had in those unclear seconds, I willed myself not to leave the safety of the plane. Still, the mans imposing presence attached to my back ordered me closer. The seed of fear that had been planted deep in my mind only hours before, had sprouted into an almost choking, incapacitating web of arms. Squeezing the breath from my lungs, my weakened body had succumbed to the fear - fear of death. What if my shoot didn't open? What if Steve's shoot didn't open!? Am I going to be that minor statistic? The ugly mole on the face of this adventurous industry? But...but…but all within a split second I was extended outside of the plane, and my wide eyes saw nothing but blurred streaks of blue and green, white and brown.
Uncontrollably, my body tumbled. In no way was it possible to restrain my flailing arms and legs. All of a sudden I was the sock in an industrial sized tumble dryer. I was at the mercy of the speed of gravity and wind velocity. It was in that moment, my body became the most insignificant thing in the world.
Just as quickly as it happened, my body corrected itself. Greg, the instructor with the crazy eyes, tapped me on the shoulder and forced my head back and my legs between his. This position had been described to me as the actual 'sky-dive'. Undoubtedly, I was scared but I was no longer as out of control. The land seem such a long way away - indeed, the land was a long way away and my disorientation of reality surprised me. We don't have to worry about anything yet, the land is still a long way away, we're okay. Our speed quickened and my frightened shrieks became distorted by my misshapen face. 200kms an hour had never felt like this before.
I had only goggles stopping my eyes from shriveling up. My cheeks wobbled and my mouth widened - it was only then I remembered the camera. Vanity briefly took over and next second I was forcing a broad smile in the hope my face wasn't too hideous for the future home viewers.
All over in one minute, sheer relief spread of my body as I felt the slight jerk of my parachute opening.
"Well that was lucky", said crazy-eyed Greg. We're not going to die after all".
Every part of me was tingling, my body was so weightless and my blood very quickly returned to my face. That was obviously the best thing I've ever done!
Undoubtedly, skydiving was the most exhilarating experience of my life! For all the craziness and fear that I felt, I wouldn't change it for the world - hell, I want to do it again. Thank you Steve for making my birthday an experience I will never forget!
www.tandemcairns.com.au
http://www.sydneyskydivers.com.au
Saturday, July 31, 2010
SCUBA diving - Great Barrier Reef Part One
24th February, 2010
SCUBA Diving - 20th February, 2010
Heavy on my back, the tank was buckled loosely around my waist. I knew that people didn't just sink to the ocean bed once entering the water but the weight I felt told me the concept defied logic. In all seriousness, I felt like a boulder ready to topple into the dark depths. The lead weights underneath my SCUBA tank sat uncomfortably above my hips, gravity and their sheer burden pushed them down against my bones.
Of course, Sam, our instructor showed us the inflatable bladder that was also fastened to our back. It was this that kept us from falling to the cozy homes of clown fish and coral.
"Haaaarp, blub. blub, bulb…TWO!" Sam instructed as he removed and the returned his regulator to his mouth - demonstrating how to clear them.
Needless to say, I felt like a real dick yelling a distorted 'two' into something that strangely resembled a child's dummy.
"Two, two…TWO", I giggled to Steve for good measure. Aha! I'd mastered the skill of not accidentally drowning on the sea floor. Even less seriousness to the exercise was derived foam Steve's remark…
"Don't worry babe, if it makes you feel any better down there, you can say 'pooh' instead".
Within what felt like only seconds, I was in the water grasping a metal bar. In a blur, my burdened body was heaved to the hands of the blue. Released of the pressure and weight of my equipment, I floated on the surface while my fins gracefully rotated to keep me upright. Sam checked my equipment and boosted the air in my vest causing me to bob higher in the water like a cork. I put my regulator in my mouth and waited for Sam to do the rest of his necessary checks. The air in the tank was noticeably cooler than the outside air and each breath came crisp and clean. My mask was successfully 'fog-free' due to the lovely spit particles and I was ready to go.
Slowly the metal bar began to move downwards. Effectively, my firm grip ensured I was taken under with it and unknown fingers released air from my only floatation devise. Casual and almost mocking waves from the dive staff above assured I was going down under.
A mere meter under the surface, the bar stopped and we were encased in an eerie silence broken only by patterned breathing. Staring insistently were a school of silver fish. Their muscle filled bodies propelled them gracefully through the water with not a care in the world. Not at all were they frightened of these masked monsters which had been maneuverer into their space.
Ironically, while I felt strangely out of place in this blue underwater world, the fish, I have no doubt had come to recognise us as part of the scenery. The beautifully polished boat we'd left revealed it's algae encased hull. Two large propellers, along with thin strands of seaweed rotated slowly in the current. I looked to Steve and Sam and returned the okay signal to confirm that indeed I was ok.
Sam instructed us to let go of the metal bar and link arms. Slowly we sank further until our air bladders kept us at a reasonable depth and my world became more and more unfamiliar. I was a keen snorkeler but never before had I had the capacity to remain in that wonder for more than a matter of seconds. Instead, I was gliding to the sea floor taking in slow and steady breaths...
SCUBA Diving - 20th February, 2010
Heavy on my back, the tank was buckled loosely around my waist. I knew that people didn't just sink to the ocean bed once entering the water but the weight I felt told me the concept defied logic. In all seriousness, I felt like a boulder ready to topple into the dark depths. The lead weights underneath my SCUBA tank sat uncomfortably above my hips, gravity and their sheer burden pushed them down against my bones.
Of course, Sam, our instructor showed us the inflatable bladder that was also fastened to our back. It was this that kept us from falling to the cozy homes of clown fish and coral.
"Haaaarp, blub. blub, bulb…TWO!" Sam instructed as he removed and the returned his regulator to his mouth - demonstrating how to clear them.
Needless to say, I felt like a real dick yelling a distorted 'two' into something that strangely resembled a child's dummy.
"Two, two…TWO", I giggled to Steve for good measure. Aha! I'd mastered the skill of not accidentally drowning on the sea floor. Even less seriousness to the exercise was derived foam Steve's remark…
"Don't worry babe, if it makes you feel any better down there, you can say 'pooh' instead".
Within what felt like only seconds, I was in the water grasping a metal bar. In a blur, my burdened body was heaved to the hands of the blue. Released of the pressure and weight of my equipment, I floated on the surface while my fins gracefully rotated to keep me upright. Sam checked my equipment and boosted the air in my vest causing me to bob higher in the water like a cork. I put my regulator in my mouth and waited for Sam to do the rest of his necessary checks. The air in the tank was noticeably cooler than the outside air and each breath came crisp and clean. My mask was successfully 'fog-free' due to the lovely spit particles and I was ready to go.
Slowly the metal bar began to move downwards. Effectively, my firm grip ensured I was taken under with it and unknown fingers released air from my only floatation devise. Casual and almost mocking waves from the dive staff above assured I was going down under.
A mere meter under the surface, the bar stopped and we were encased in an eerie silence broken only by patterned breathing. Staring insistently were a school of silver fish. Their muscle filled bodies propelled them gracefully through the water with not a care in the world. Not at all were they frightened of these masked monsters which had been maneuverer into their space.
Ironically, while I felt strangely out of place in this blue underwater world, the fish, I have no doubt had come to recognise us as part of the scenery. The beautifully polished boat we'd left revealed it's algae encased hull. Two large propellers, along with thin strands of seaweed rotated slowly in the current. I looked to Steve and Sam and returned the okay signal to confirm that indeed I was ok.
Sam instructed us to let go of the metal bar and link arms. Slowly we sank further until our air bladders kept us at a reasonable depth and my world became more and more unfamiliar. I was a keen snorkeler but never before had I had the capacity to remain in that wonder for more than a matter of seconds. Instead, I was gliding to the sea floor taking in slow and steady breaths...
To cry
10.11.2009
Just stole myself a cigarette from a passer-by
He asked me why I needed it, I said I need a cry.
He asked me with his eyes again, "Why is it that is so?
I replied with a sense of stupidity that I simply didn't know.
"Our emotions are not grouped", he said "So indeed I understand"
Sometimes we need to let go if life, sometimes we need a hand.
So with a puff and a smiling face he watched my tears roll -
I closed my eyes, forgot the day and felt life take it's toll.
I don't know why I felt like that or where the feelings came
I just knew upon opening up, I didn't feel the same.
Just stole myself a cigarette from a passer-by
He asked me why I needed it, I said I need a cry.
He asked me with his eyes again, "Why is it that is so?
I replied with a sense of stupidity that I simply didn't know.
"Our emotions are not grouped", he said "So indeed I understand"
Sometimes we need to let go if life, sometimes we need a hand.
So with a puff and a smiling face he watched my tears roll -
I closed my eyes, forgot the day and felt life take it's toll.
I don't know why I felt like that or where the feelings came
I just knew upon opening up, I didn't feel the same.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Just something I've been playing around with...comments please!
28th February, 2010
On a cloudless day I swept into the crisp, cool reception area of the Cairns Plaza Hotel for my much anticipated interview. I'd not managed to find the place for a good ten minutes as one unfamiliar street turned into the next. Much to my distress, no one seemed to know where the Cairns Plaza Hotel was.
Flustered as I was, I'd made it and I was greeted by a well spoken man of perhaps 60 and waited nervously in the foyer. It was a blessed wait on the comfortable couch with the cool air conditioner fanning my reddened face. I was praying I would return to my normal colour and the sweat beads would evaporate before I was scrutinised by my potential employer. I gazed around the area hungrily, taking everything in. This could be my break. This could be what we need - a steady job with a steady income, walking distance to town and a cool, quiet and personal environment. A wall of brochures showed a never ending amount of activities which I would have to familiarise myself with. Posters hung showing obvious attractions of Cairns and people answered phones with a sense of responsibility.
Hell, we live in a tent, I thought to myself. We've been in Cairns nearly a month and still we dwell in canvas next to drunken backpackers and retirees. No one will give us a house unless we had a steady income and no one would give us a job unless we had a permanent residence. Slowly and surely, we'd got sick of packing our life awake every time needed to go somewhere. No longer did we want to receive cheeky grins after we'd made love. No longer did we want to wake in the pouring rain and worry about our wet mattress. No longer did we want to line up to cook our two-minute noodles - no longer did what want to eat two minute noodles…
…with the success of this next 15 minutes, in my perfect image, all of these things would be fixed.
Abruptly, my thoughts were shattered when a tall slim woman with bad-hair stormed through the back office door and walked from behind the front desk into the foyer. With such authority displayed in her forthcoming open hand, I looked up into her stern eyes and returned polite greetings. Her hands were slender, pale and soft with perfect fingernails; her grip was firm but not intimidating.
You must be Carly? I'm Lynda!
Her voice was surprisingly childish and her manner almost too bubbly. I was surprised to a noticeable nose piercing and bold black pendant hanging from her neck on a coarse back cord.
Needless to say the interview must have went well because later than day while sitting on a wooden bench drinking coffee, my phone rang. Lynda's voice came down the line excitedly as she offered me the. I phones Steve straight away, his please voice made me glow inside. Indeed the hours were terrible and the pay even worse but it was a full-time job and maybe, just maybe someone will let us sign a lease!
Four months have passed since that day and i sit on the opposite side of that front office desk. I peer around at my surrounding - I've got plenty of time - and wonder what is worse, not having a job or hating going to work. Someone did sign us up for a place, we've been in out little unit three and a half months now and have developed a normal domestic lifestyle with some exciting adventures thrown in. Unfortunately, Steve has to work away, back in Darwin coincidently and I have spent a lot of time alone.
Today I entered the same reception area but its drab and dark atmosphere is contrary to the hope it held for us.As I lazily gaze outside from my dreary reception desk, the same desk that seemed so fresh and interesting on that first day, my eyes are shining with the brightness of the day. Once again, it's beautiful - clear sky have blessed the morning and the beckoning boats slice the glistening ocean. Longingly my heart aches to be away - away from the dingy room and atmosphere that I call my workplace. I peer beyond the freshly cleaned glass and envy the lovers strolling by - enjoying this morning adorned with virtue. I envy the flowers bobbing in the slight breeze, enjoying the last relief of the early morning. An elderly couple walk hand in hand up the uneven footpath, returning from their morning exercise. The automatic doors open abruptly for them and warm air meets my face as they re-enter the artificial cold.
"Good morning!" they say enthusiastically, their pink faces beaming with good health.
Reminding me I'm inside, the doors slide shut with a clunk, leaving me with a brief scent of a fresh morning.
What is it I should be doing? What is my place? What exciting, fulfilling and satisfying activities are there that I should be doing?
Unexpectedly, my thoughts are interrupted by the harsh ring of the phone.
"Good Morning Cairns Plaza Hotel, this is Carly."
On a cloudless day I swept into the crisp, cool reception area of the Cairns Plaza Hotel for my much anticipated interview. I'd not managed to find the place for a good ten minutes as one unfamiliar street turned into the next. Much to my distress, no one seemed to know where the Cairns Plaza Hotel was.
Flustered as I was, I'd made it and I was greeted by a well spoken man of perhaps 60 and waited nervously in the foyer. It was a blessed wait on the comfortable couch with the cool air conditioner fanning my reddened face. I was praying I would return to my normal colour and the sweat beads would evaporate before I was scrutinised by my potential employer. I gazed around the area hungrily, taking everything in. This could be my break. This could be what we need - a steady job with a steady income, walking distance to town and a cool, quiet and personal environment. A wall of brochures showed a never ending amount of activities which I would have to familiarise myself with. Posters hung showing obvious attractions of Cairns and people answered phones with a sense of responsibility.
Hell, we live in a tent, I thought to myself. We've been in Cairns nearly a month and still we dwell in canvas next to drunken backpackers and retirees. No one will give us a house unless we had a steady income and no one would give us a job unless we had a permanent residence. Slowly and surely, we'd got sick of packing our life awake every time needed to go somewhere. No longer did we want to receive cheeky grins after we'd made love. No longer did we want to wake in the pouring rain and worry about our wet mattress. No longer did we want to line up to cook our two-minute noodles - no longer did what want to eat two minute noodles…
…with the success of this next 15 minutes, in my perfect image, all of these things would be fixed.
Abruptly, my thoughts were shattered when a tall slim woman with bad-hair stormed through the back office door and walked from behind the front desk into the foyer. With such authority displayed in her forthcoming open hand, I looked up into her stern eyes and returned polite greetings. Her hands were slender, pale and soft with perfect fingernails; her grip was firm but not intimidating.
You must be Carly? I'm Lynda!
Her voice was surprisingly childish and her manner almost too bubbly. I was surprised to a noticeable nose piercing and bold black pendant hanging from her neck on a coarse back cord.
Needless to say the interview must have went well because later than day while sitting on a wooden bench drinking coffee, my phone rang. Lynda's voice came down the line excitedly as she offered me the. I phones Steve straight away, his please voice made me glow inside. Indeed the hours were terrible and the pay even worse but it was a full-time job and maybe, just maybe someone will let us sign a lease!
*****
Four months have passed since that day and i sit on the opposite side of that front office desk. I peer around at my surrounding - I've got plenty of time - and wonder what is worse, not having a job or hating going to work. Someone did sign us up for a place, we've been in out little unit three and a half months now and have developed a normal domestic lifestyle with some exciting adventures thrown in. Unfortunately, Steve has to work away, back in Darwin coincidently and I have spent a lot of time alone.
Today I entered the same reception area but its drab and dark atmosphere is contrary to the hope it held for us.As I lazily gaze outside from my dreary reception desk, the same desk that seemed so fresh and interesting on that first day, my eyes are shining with the brightness of the day. Once again, it's beautiful - clear sky have blessed the morning and the beckoning boats slice the glistening ocean. Longingly my heart aches to be away - away from the dingy room and atmosphere that I call my workplace. I peer beyond the freshly cleaned glass and envy the lovers strolling by - enjoying this morning adorned with virtue. I envy the flowers bobbing in the slight breeze, enjoying the last relief of the early morning. An elderly couple walk hand in hand up the uneven footpath, returning from their morning exercise. The automatic doors open abruptly for them and warm air meets my face as they re-enter the artificial cold.
"Good morning!" they say enthusiastically, their pink faces beaming with good health.
Reminding me I'm inside, the doors slide shut with a clunk, leaving me with a brief scent of a fresh morning.
What is it I should be doing? What is my place? What exciting, fulfilling and satisfying activities are there that I should be doing?
Unexpectedly, my thoughts are interrupted by the harsh ring of the phone.
"Good Morning Cairns Plaza Hotel, this is Carly."
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Darwin Bookstore, Cullen Bay - 15th February, 2009
Note: this is just a sample - something to start off with. I will get some structure and timeline happening soon. Not really sure how all this stuff works but please, your feedback would be great! Happy writing :-)
From the outside it appeared to be like any other bookstore. In all reality, it was, however it was not entirely what you’d expect. As we hesitantly pushed through the single glassed door the welcoming waft of Frankincense met our in tune nose hairs. After all, Frankincense was our favourite.
Oddly, a middle-aged woman sat by the door reading at book with a glass of champagne in her hand.
Typical, I thought. We’ve walked into some posh ‘members only’ bookshop.
Sheepishly I looked around the small shop as the doorbell continued to ring in the otherwise calmly ambienced room and everyone’s heads turned.
Surely we’d be asked the leave I thought , after all, I was wearing a hippy type dress with a concoction of flowers in my hair and Dewse, well Dewse was wearing the same outfit from four days ago and was doing his best Cat Stevens impersonation. This was Cullen Bay, the most expensive and up-market area in Darwin with hundreds of over priced boats in the Marina and high-rise apartments looking over the harbour.
Nevertheless, a warm and cheerful “Afternoon” came from the shopkeeper - much to our surprise and relief. A beady-eyed man of perhaps 60 looked across at us through his over-used reading glasses and smiled.
“Hello”, was my reply as I ducked out of the way of the doorway and over to an impressive wall of photographed post cards. To humble my creative side and escape the curious eyes of fellow browsers I knelt down and began to admire the natural local landscape.
Dewse casually strolled past the “Sex, special interest and homosexuality” and delved into his real life stories from spaced out people in far away places.
Perhaps 15 minutes passed and I was still curiously looking at the beautiful photos and anticipating the moment in which I’ll be able to go there and experience it for myself. More correctly, though, it was more like wishful thinking, although I promised myself that one day I would go – one day I would see them with my own eyes. It was at this point the beady-eyed man spoke over the modern, up-beat mixes of traditional Aboriginal music.
“Would each of you like a champagne?” he inquired.
“Are you serious?” I, with hindsight, stupidly asked back.
“Yeah, it’s champagne Sunday”, he said.
“I’d love one”, Dewse and I said in unison.
The truth was, both of our heads were thumping from last nights efforts. It had been our first night in Darwin and we didn’t take it easy in the slightest. $9.50 jugs only got better as we got drunker and $7.00 at the Vic just topped it off. Nevertheless, neither of us had ever turned down free alcohol, or champagne for that matter, and we weren’t about to start.
With few words – most along the line of thank you – Dewse and I returned to our imaginations and wishful thinking. He was poor and had at least 7 un-read books back at the hostel while I didn’t even have a job.
As I flicked through the matt pages of effort, inspiration and dedication in books written by those of brilliance, I could do nothing but smile. I had made it, I was in Darwin and nothing could stand between me and whatever I wanted to do. Furthermore, I was sitting in what would seem to be a rather posh or ‘boutique style’ bookshop, looking like the hung over and unemployed hostel dweller that I was yet still allowed to drink champagne. Oh to be young and free.
With those thoughts in mind, I closed my last book and promised the kind gentleman that I’d be back once I had a job. I purchased two post cards and left with an air of lordly content.
NB: Matt has a blog - livingjuice.blogspot.com. It is because of him that I've started one up. Read his stuff too, it's great!
From the outside it appeared to be like any other bookstore. In all reality, it was, however it was not entirely what you’d expect. As we hesitantly pushed through the single glassed door the welcoming waft of Frankincense met our in tune nose hairs. After all, Frankincense was our favourite.
Oddly, a middle-aged woman sat by the door reading at book with a glass of champagne in her hand.
Typical, I thought. We’ve walked into some posh ‘members only’ bookshop.
Sheepishly I looked around the small shop as the doorbell continued to ring in the otherwise calmly ambienced room and everyone’s heads turned.
Surely we’d be asked the leave I thought , after all, I was wearing a hippy type dress with a concoction of flowers in my hair and Dewse, well Dewse was wearing the same outfit from four days ago and was doing his best Cat Stevens impersonation. This was Cullen Bay, the most expensive and up-market area in Darwin with hundreds of over priced boats in the Marina and high-rise apartments looking over the harbour.
Nevertheless, a warm and cheerful “Afternoon” came from the shopkeeper - much to our surprise and relief. A beady-eyed man of perhaps 60 looked across at us through his over-used reading glasses and smiled.
“Hello”, was my reply as I ducked out of the way of the doorway and over to an impressive wall of photographed post cards. To humble my creative side and escape the curious eyes of fellow browsers I knelt down and began to admire the natural local landscape.
Dewse casually strolled past the “Sex, special interest and homosexuality” and delved into his real life stories from spaced out people in far away places.
Perhaps 15 minutes passed and I was still curiously looking at the beautiful photos and anticipating the moment in which I’ll be able to go there and experience it for myself. More correctly, though, it was more like wishful thinking, although I promised myself that one day I would go – one day I would see them with my own eyes. It was at this point the beady-eyed man spoke over the modern, up-beat mixes of traditional Aboriginal music.
“Would each of you like a champagne?” he inquired.
“Are you serious?” I, with hindsight, stupidly asked back.
“Yeah, it’s champagne Sunday”, he said.
“I’d love one”, Dewse and I said in unison.
The truth was, both of our heads were thumping from last nights efforts. It had been our first night in Darwin and we didn’t take it easy in the slightest. $9.50 jugs only got better as we got drunker and $7.00 at the Vic just topped it off. Nevertheless, neither of us had ever turned down free alcohol, or champagne for that matter, and we weren’t about to start.
With few words – most along the line of thank you – Dewse and I returned to our imaginations and wishful thinking. He was poor and had at least 7 un-read books back at the hostel while I didn’t even have a job.
As I flicked through the matt pages of effort, inspiration and dedication in books written by those of brilliance, I could do nothing but smile. I had made it, I was in Darwin and nothing could stand between me and whatever I wanted to do. Furthermore, I was sitting in what would seem to be a rather posh or ‘boutique style’ bookshop, looking like the hung over and unemployed hostel dweller that I was yet still allowed to drink champagne. Oh to be young and free.
With those thoughts in mind, I closed my last book and promised the kind gentleman that I’d be back once I had a job. I purchased two post cards and left with an air of lordly content.
NB: Matt has a blog - livingjuice.blogspot.com. It is because of him that I've started one up. Read his stuff too, it's great!
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