Thursday, 2 March 1995, 9:50AM
Hi. It’s late in the week to be starting a new letter, but it’s been an uneventful week. Not much to speak of really. I’ve been trapped into going to one of Brett’s gigs tomorrow night, which is not something I look forward to, being surrounded by headbangers, trying not to get too pissed, ‘cos if you get too pissed, you’re a bit vulnerable, especially in unfamiliar surroundings. Then on Saturday, Leah has asked me to go and help set up her new video, so I probably won’t be able to get away. Actually, no. I will get away. I should stop doing things I don’t want to. I’m an adult, and adults get their own way, that was one of the first lessons of our childhood. I may not be able to stop some of life’s tempests blowing me off course, but I can certainly say no to some things, and I reckon I should do that more often. I’ll see this weekend through, and thenceforth be more forthright in refusing people. I’m sick of doing people favors when they don’t reciprocate. I’m not speaking expressly of Brett and Leah, but of things in general. Bugger it, I’m sick of being polite and putting myself out for other people.
Monday, 6 March 1995, 2:55PM
Well, I did OK on the weekend. I got out of one thing – Brett’s gig on Friday night – but succumbed on Saturday and helped set up Leah’s video. Apart from that little expedition, it was as an uneventful a weekend as it had been a week. I went out on Friday night with office-mates. Went to some semi-swanky bar in Spring Street called “The Cricketers Bar”. No seats to speak of, so one was discouraged from drinking too much and impairing one’s balance. I wonder if that is a deliberate policy of the establishment, or if they’re just too cheap to buy more seats. Anyway, it was a bit stuffy and Nathan was asking Nadia (Editor of one of our Newsletters) if she’d ever worn a g-string, so we figured it was time we found less salubrious surroundings. We trotted off to “Le Monde” in Bourke Street where Nathan spots the Federal Shadow Treasurer Peter Costello in a car. Nathan leaps to his feet and hollers across the street “Your father taught me at School” like it was the source of some deep pride within him, he then wades through the traffic to shake the fucker’s hand. You’ve never seen a group of people cringe so jointly. We virtually shriveled with shame. I didn’t drink much, I was in a glum kinda mood and left before midnight.
Donovan rang me on Saturday morning and he’s meeting me next Friday night for drinks. I’m not sure whether to include him in the office outing or split off on our own. It might be a bit of a culture clash. Or, worse, Donovan might reveal something about my character to the people I have to work with. This would be a disaster. Then again, it might be interesting to see how Donovan is treated by the other people, because the deference they show to him would be an indication of the respect they have for me. Maybe I’ll just put them together for an hour or two and then Donovan and I will make our own way.
We’re doing some book with a footballer. He was in here just before. Bloody enormous. Obviously some sort of mutant. There seems to be a lot of footballers traipsing through here lately. I don’t like it. It lowers the tone of the office. There’s all-together too much footy around here. The football season is starting again now. All those thugs get to go out and justify their existence. It’s another example of living vicariously. Football fans have no success in their own lives so they seek to bathe in the reflected glory of the team they support. It could also be argued, I suppose, that it’s relatively innocuous fun, entertainment for the masses, a common ground on which people can meet. The problem is that when they do meet on this common ground they usually end up hurling abuse (or punches) at each other. Ban team sports, I say! Make everyone watch more TV, spend more time asleep. Hey, did you know that your brain waves and metabolic rate are actually lower when you watch TV than they are when you’re asleep? I think that’s so cool.
I better go.
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