Thursday, January 8, 2004

it's (actually) a beautiful day

The heat either isn't getting to me anymore or today wasn't hot although everyone said it was. I sat on the front concrete in the shade of a bottlebrush tree and ate my lunch, and Somechi (from Thailand) talked in his stiltled English about the weather on his trip over the holidays.

The past few days money and housing and everything along those lines have reared thier ugly heads and made things stressful. However, rest assured, dear readers, I am not so easily defeated. Things are looking not up, but level and straight across, and that's good too. Time to wait means time to eat cheap falafel mix on cheap burrito wraps, drink cheap green tea and read cheap library books. Life is what you make of it, I'm sure I glow with as much happiness as any millionaire over in Vaucluse.

To boot: yesterday Tony took me for a ride on his motorbike! It was red, it smelled of the same gasoline as did the skidoos of my youth, and we zoomed from Lewisham to Bondi Junction, taking the Anzac Bridge and then Oxford Street, nearly getting in an accident and then onto Syd Enfield (a freeway of sorts) to my house. What an amazing adrenaline rush! I can really see now why people like to tour countries on bikes, you are part of the environment around you rather than separate from.

Back to my house, where new library books await me, and writing to Claire, and other cheap thrills.

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