We walked into town to Myer. The sun was shining by early afternoon. It was nice. I still laugh at the people standing at the little red man at the lights at the crossing with not a car in sight, and yet they still stand there. I never know why? We’ve all become so conservative, so nanny-state products that when Sam and I dare to cross on the “red man” sometimes, if you listen closely, you can hear “them” inhale at our audacity.
Live a little people. Jay-walk, smoke a joint, cheat on your taxes, leave the job you hate with no job to go to, life is just too short.
Straight to Myer, down Little Bourke Street, in the back door, being back door kind of boys. Laugh, that always reminds me of Catherine Tate’s Derek.
I took charge of the lift buttons, on the way up and on the way down. I am still a lift nazi, clearly. Too many years spent in corporate building with big egos trying to run the lifts to suit themselves. It has had a bad influence on me, a lasting one, one I don’t seem to be able to get over. Any of the slow, or the lame, I close those lift doors right in their faces. Oh, there have just been too many times. Floating into a lift in dribs and drabs.
“Hold that lift, hold that lift, I must get on that lift!”
But there are 5 more lifts.
"Oh, is this lift going up” dither, dither... “oh, really” dither, dither... “sorry."
Get Out!
Or the idiot who keeps pushing the lift button when the full lift’s doors are trying to close.
Closing… open. Closing… open. Closing… open.
Or my very favourite, "I just need to finish this call," they said with their arm in the lift doorway holding up any number of people without a care.
Um, excuse me?
Come on people, pay attention, otherwise there is always another lift. All Aboard.
Sam got the Aesop hand lotion from the ground floor at Myer. He always lathers it on and then wipes it all over my hands to dispose of the excess.
We headed to Emporium, after Myer, because Sam didn't like the hoodie that I wore into the city. My favourite oversized, old, blue...
“What’s wrong with it?” I looked down at what I was wearing. Sure it is old, but I would call it comfortable.
"It is disgusting," said Sam. "You look like you are down on your luck."
Disgusting? I wouldn’t have called it disgusting, I thought is was fashionably off trend – or is that a contradiction? – you know, setting trends not following them? (Northern Suburbs Work Wear) Still, I guess it doesn’t matter so much what I think if Sam thinks it is disgusting. I looked down at what I was wearing again. Disgusting seemed a little harsh. But… um… as I said, it didn’t really matter what I thought, so much, as I wasn’t looking at me, I was looking away from disgusting.
We went to Uniglow in Emporium. But first we got Aesop hand lotion from the dispensers outside the Aesop shop. Again, Sam wiped the excess over my hands. He tells me it is lovely, I grin and bare it. I tried on hoodies, but despite the fact that I seem to wear them all the time, lately, they are not really me. I looked at the jumpers, merino V-neck. I wanted the charcoal, or the dark blue, but no they had none of those colours left, as they were on sale. This brave new consuming world never seems to have the colours you want, and we all just accept it. So, I got navy blue and red.
We saw Anton, Rachel's son, shopping in UniGlo. He's lovely, he’s always been a gorgeous boy. He was an angelic child, and now he is a handsome 21 year old/22 year old. Rachel is deservedly proud of him, as she is of all her 4 children. Anton is a sweet boy, always, seemingly, interested in what you are doing and what you have to say. I'm sure he is interested, he’s a nice lad, but even if he's not, as Groucho Marx said, The most important thing is honesty. Once you can fake that, you’ve got it made. He's a really nice boy.
I changed into the red jumper out side Uniglow. I did a twirl and Sam just looked at me. "Are you doing that for me?"
"Sure am," I said. "Better?" I asked.
"Yes, much," he said.
"Anything to alleviate your embarrassment."
"Very funny," Sam said.
“I looked disgusting, I think was the expression.”
He just let that hang in the air seemingly without a need for a correction.
I find I often walk with my arm through Sam's. I never hold his hand, I am not a hand holder, but I often link my arm through his. We are nearly always chatting away, even when we were walking up Lonsdale Street toward home, me pointing out the newest Lamborghini driving up the street, Sam telling me what the latest gadget is. Or we are joking with each other. Eating curry samosas, or arguing about getting one. I’m always the pro-samosa, Sam is the one against, if anyone is going to be against, that is. But often it is just a yes, yes snack man, like me. Green tea ice cream. Egg tart. Pork bun. 75 pieces of KFC for $5. Whatever? Or we are being judgemental about the people we see, you know, laughing and pointing. It is usually my judgement, but Sam can be too. I have had a, some might say, negative effect on him. I’d say, I’ve taken that sweet boy and rounded him out. Discreetly, of course. We never want to hurt anyone's feeling, we just want to amuse each other. Snigger so only the other one can see. Our world, lost in it. It is a lovely place to be. It is a nice state. We don’t really need anyone else in it, we are naturally just a team of two.
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