next time you get towed

do you mind if i park in your garage in
doncaster while you inconvenience me?

concrete blocks

sometimes after a downpour, it rains for hours inside the half-built Artist apartments.

there's a fancy new block of flats a bit further along, past the union club hotel. windows like lit fishbowls at night. a guy in one of the windows tonight: largely nude, from what i can see. holding a paint brush, staring at an easel with his head to one side. not hot, not not hot.

just a dude painting nude at 6.30pm on a cold friday night.

smelly shop

"Where's my poor woman," says the shopper, swinging around with a moisturiser in each hand, her eyes falling on a saleswoman up the back, misting organic hair sprays with another customer. The attendant at the counter shrugs and smiles softly, then goes back to wrapping a scented candle. "My poor woman, I abandoned her because I was undecided and now that I need her, she's abandoned me..." says the woman, her handbag sagging.

stripping in reverse

"It's the fixies people are stripping right now. No wonder - some of them are riding round on $1600 cranks. It takes about seven minutes to strip that."

"Hate fixies." [silent agreement]

"How long would it take to put gears on a fixie, if it's locked to a post?"

"We should do that."

saturday in the car park

saturday in the car park behind my block of flats. me and the camry come back from the market, string bag full of white fruit and veg, and stopped short of practicing parking by an interloping black commodore in my space.

the notes i write for windscreens are terser every weekend. at first, 'hi! i think you've parked in my spot! please call me when you go so i can move my car' has given way to: 'next time you get towed [gddm fkr].'

swearing like tourettes itself. where the fk am i going to park, fkn brunswick st etaggers gdm your brunching ... gated communities now i get it ... fk fk fk every fkn saturday a new fkn commodore. that type of thing.

i look up at the flats. a wall of windows catches the full winter sun. a girl on the first floor sits in the window, long brown hair gleaming toppling down. a bare leg drawn up. if she's painting her nails in the sun, i think, she's a gdm parody of herself. but she isn't. she's squeezing her ingrown hairs.

at least something is right with the world.