I need to use a notebook.
I’ve tried to tell at least three people what I’ve done so far in Melbourne, and it’s basically all a blur. During the “during” I essentially “write” in my head; spelling out what I’m seeing in detail and what I think about it. Heds, deks, ledes all come flooding in, only to disappear moments later when the next event begins.
So far, my most “memorable” moments since the last post are:
1. Bought my first ever original painting from the Queen Victoria/St. Kilda market. (The guy showed in both places.)
2. Eating a meat pie at the footy game and watching Shannon’s team, The Kangaroos, kick some Hawthorn butt. Oh yes, and singing the North Melbourne victory song at least 8 times in a row.
3. Seeing the one of the footy girlfriends I met last night in the paper this morning.
4. Setting up my bank account with no problems.
5. Eating Japanese curry — Japanese curry! — who knew.
But seriously, I need to use a notebook. More on this last week, after the jump.
If, however, I had started using one from the start, the first thing I would have written after stepping off the plane is that the first song I heard on the car radio in the airport parking lot was “Thks fr th Mmrs.” Pete Wentz, alive and well.
Going in, I expected Australia to be sort of a combo of the US and England, but on the coast with pretty beaches and surfers. The first thing I’ve noticed is that it feels a thousand times more like being in the States than being in England. For one, the TV commercials are normal. (Anyone who’s watched British television knows what I’m talking about.) I’ve already memorized one or two, to Jackie’s amazement. Yep, indication one I’m watching too much television.
Today we watched Top Model — granted it was cycle 3 — Australian Idol, a late-night show with the Superbad boys and promos for Californication and the Emmys. Lord knows, I get more American TV here than I do at my parents house. I mean, Showtime, come on! And, they can show nudity and say fuck, tits and dick on TV! (May I add Jonah Hill was very excited about this.) The constant AFL and rugby coverage is new — and wonderful — as are interviews with Australia’s sweetheart, Delta Goodrem.
In the supermarket today — a real one, a real, big, massive Safeway bigger than anything I’ve ever shopped in Manhattan — they had those Old El Paso taco kits. Member when I was freaked I wouldn’t be able to get Mexican food? There’s a burrito place down the road and we grabbed taco mix and tortillas at the market.
Oh yes, and there are 7-11s on every corner.
I say all this because it was somewhat shocking to go someplace so far away and be so surrounded by the familiar.
What isn’t familiar is the people, and that, more than anything else, is what I’m excited about. I need it to be different. I need to not be on IM, and I need to not read Perez every day. I need to not want to. For now the urge is still there, but it’s fading and I think that’s a good thing.
Tomorrow I venture out alone for the first time.
Promise I’ll bring a notebook.