Sunday, April 09, 2017

The Afternoon

12.30pm. Sitting in the Ramen shop, waiting for our meals to arrive Asian lesbians are sitting opposite us at the communal table. There is an old Japanese couple on the other side. A mixed race couple sit next to them. There are twinks on the end. A handsome father and his young daughter sat next to me.

We eat deconstructed pork bums

Sam whispers, "Chinese Lesbians." He’s looking at the young, lesbian, girls opposite.

I gave him my best there-is-nothing-wrong-with-your-eyes-but-maybe-your-judgement-could-do-with-a-litle-work kind of look. Then I remember my rather cavalier comment some days ago, about never seeing gay Asian girl couples, right at the same time that I thought, that is some assumption, as I looked back at the girls… why should that be an insult, anyway. Head spun. Suffice to say, my look changed mid… um… er… look.

Electronic jazz played. It was quite lovely. The music reminded a bit of old school Club 80 which was somewhat disconcerting, but aside from that…

Then we ate Ramen. Pork belly Ramen. All those fat leather men.

We went to Woolies on the walk home. It is raining when we come out of the supermarket, so we walk home, huddled together, under cover along Smith Street.

We watched, When We Rise. It’s good.

The light was fading when Sam remembered it was, in fact, cleaning day. I thought it was stupid and felt nicely medicated that I thought cleaning day could be suspended at this point.

“It had its opportunity and it didn’t grab it,” I said. "It has missed out."

I vacuumed as the sun was setting.

Late in the afternoon, we watched David Attenborough docos.

We ate tacos for dinner.


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