Nice chatting to you Sis.

XXXX represents the parts of his diaries that J has cut out and destroyed.

 

J’s Diary Entry

Friday, 21 July 1995

S rang tonight, she was after the phone number of a florist in “Poo Town”.  I heard Brady crying in the background.  It was a nice chat, I got inordinately excited, I wonder if Leah noticed, and if so, what she thought of it.

Zoe dropped in at work today to see Mary, I was terrified, I hid out in the tea-room until I realized that she might come down for a coffee.  Then I slinked into the back office and shared my fears with Cav.  He won’t be at “Who the Fuck Cares” for much longer.  I’ve been distancing myself from him for the past few weeks in anticipation of this, to make myself feel his absence less keenly.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

Saturday, 22 July 1995

Spent all morning in bed – tired beyond belief. Rolled out of bed at 12:30pm to a strong, steamy black coffee.

I hitched a ride with Leah and Aidan into the City for some shopping.  We parked near my work in a dank, low-ceiling basement parking joint and rode the glass elevator sliding up into Collins Place.  From there we did the rounds of the CBD music shops.  I hate shopping with other people, they take so long, it’s torture.  I bought two CD’s, a single by Supergrass, “Caught by the Fuzz,” and an EP by the Aphex Twins called “Ventolin” XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX I paid for half the parking which I’d promised earlier as I couldn’t stand another half-hour of Leah’s dogged scanning of the City streets for a free park. We crawled home through post football traffic.

Got home, lit a fire, listened to the CD’s we’d bought and I started Kerouac’s “The Subterraneans” which I’d bought in Minataur on Elizabeth Street ($5 cheaper than Dymocks). It’s rambling, disjointed prose that runs in 3 page paragraphs. It’s OK. I’ve already come across some neat ideas in it. Especially the one on page 29 about shame being the key to courage. This had never occurred to me before.

Mum came over around 4pm with photo’s and video of her UK stay with S.

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