Growing up in a supermarket is strange. Many rites of passage are faced within those brick walls and dimly-lit interior – love, death, a sweet sixteen, rejection, abuse, somehow finding yourself in the mix of all that.
If this is a quest for truth then is Cold Chisel really the right soundtrack for it? Is there something more appropriate to listen to when stepping into libraries and archives or will my ears be forever ringing with the sound of a harmonica and Jimmy’s cigarette-stained vocal chords?
On the first night I drink beer and stare into a creek waiting for a platypus to appear with Sonja. When the mozzies come instead of the platypus, we go inside and play cards with some of the others. It surprises me how quickly I start to get along with them, and how it only takes a couple of beers and a game of Shithead to do it.
On Saturday a very beautiful girl I went on three dates with texted me at 9:21 PM saying that she would prefer to be friends. And that’s fine, but I had already planned our future dreamy lives together.