I just ordered another beer. This is one more than I planned on drinking during today’s happy hour. But oh well, it’s here now. Can’t turn back now. Gotta drink it. Paid for it, gotta drink it now.
So I figured that I’d open up Word and write out a little ditty, type up something because, yes, I do realize that it’s been a little while since I last wrote about anything in here, and no, it’s not because I’ve been so busy doing things that I just haven’t found the time to write up the exciting account(s) of my exciting activities. No, mostly I’ve just sequestered myself in my little hole above a bar and stayed out of the rain. I haven’t even been reading or writing as much as I like, and that makes me wonder just what the hell have I been doing.
I went to Manly on Monday. I think it was Monday. Knowing how much I enjoy alliterating, I’d think that I’d like going to Manly on Mondays. So I went to Manly on Monday. I had heard that Manly has a nice beach and is popular with surfers and beach-goers. I am neither a surfer nor a beach-goer so I went to Manly. I found Manly to be aesthetically pleasing. Note the pictures at the bottom of this blog.
I took a ferry over to Manly. I hadn’t ridden on a ferry since I was about eight years old and on the first of my family’s four family vacations to Toronto. We rode a ferry on Lake Ontario to a little amusement park out on an island in the lake. I don’t remember any details of that ferry ride. This ferry ride was pleasant. I was surprised how smooth the ride was. I enjoyed the gentle up and down rocking of the sea. It felt like I was on a gentle teeter-totter. I wondered whether or not I would enjoy sailing in general. I have never considered sailing as a possible pastime that I might enjoy.
On this ferry there were a surprising number of beautiful people. They seemed all about my age or a little younger. They were dressed fashionable, Europeanly. They wore scarves and loose sweaters and tight jeans or leggings. They had clean, shinny, healthy hair. Many wore large sunglasses even though we were sitting on the shaded side of the ferry. On the ferry ride back to Circular Quay, I only saw families. Families on holiday taking the 25 minute ferry ride back to Circular Quay, back to their Sydney hotel rooms. They—the beautiful people and the families—all looked happy.
This is some pretty flowery language I’ve been using, but it’s my artistic way of showing just how little I’ve been doing.
It occurred to me sometime last week that I had somewhat planned on maybe working while here in Sydney. Doing what I have no idea. What do I do? Good question. My novels always stall at the 30k word mark, and it has happened yet again. I hope I can dig up some inspiration to write another 30k words or so. I know I have the material.
I’ve been trying to rekindle my relationship with poker. Not with the best results. So I’m left in a pool of self-doubt. That’s a bit hyperbolic.
Miscellaneous: I was reminded that I saved the day in Perth a while ago back when I was in Perth. I met up with someone from the Internet. He was a cool dude. A small dude, but a cool dude nonetheless. He bought a Rolling Stones shirt from a highly attractive female that I would advise he hit (sexually). After he bought this shirt we were walking down the main stretch of the mall in downtown Perth really hitting it off with conversations about music you have never heard of before when a disgruntled, fucked up guy comes up to my new friend and takes his bag with said shirt. What the fuck? someone yelled. My friend reached for the bag and grabbed it. The strange, fucked up dude looked like he was ready to start throwing down. My adrenaline raced and I started getting ready to throw down—keep in mind I’ve never thrown down before; I only get down. I was bigger than the fucked up thief and I put my weight on the balls of my feet. I think I even clenched my fists. I’m sure I did. Just at the pinnacle of excitement an undercover cop comes by and takes care of the situation. The wind is let out of the balloon. My heart still races and my adrenaline is still up, but there is no where for it to go. We go off and buy a coke.
There is a man who lives somewhere around Abercrombie Street who can often be seen walking his two pet goats and small dog. The first time I saw this man walking his goats and small dog, it was nearly dark out and I thought that one of his dogs was eating a bush. As I walked closer, I noticed that it was a goat. One of the goats was wearing a sweater. I hope to talk to this man one day.
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