Tuesday, 14 May 1996 8:30am Went to the “Empress of India” in Carlton. I was meeting Scottish Lisa from work and a few other people, all of whom I’d met before (bar one). There were seven of us, we sat around just drinking and gossiping. I must be getting old S, I spent a Saturday night ‘just chatting with friends’ (sounds like a coffee commercial) … Continue reading The peculiarities of our troublesome Father.
Thursday, 9 May 1996 8:30am Howdy S, Spoke to Mum on the phone yesterday. We chit-chatted. Aunty Marge is coming down for the weekend for some genealogy grave-robbing gig with Ma. So anyway, we’re chattin’ away, and Mum Says ‘Oh your sister called on Sunday by the way. ‘Really, how is she? What’s she doing? ‘Well, it was so early, I answered the phone all … Continue reading It’s not the meek that shall inherit the earth, it’s the technologically literate.
Saturday, 4 May 1996 12:30pm Yeah, yeah… in on a Saturday. I don’t feel that I put in too good a performance this week, so I’m in here now trying to boost the week’s tally. I’m keying the questionnaires the companies fill in and send back. It’s not such bad work, each one’s a bit different. You do have to use your brain a little. … Continue reading It’s not how much you’ve had – it’s how bad you feel.
Friday, 26 April 1996 Howdy Sis o’ Mine, Still sittin’ here in Melbourne, Autumn chill closin’ in around me. Trying hard to ignore the blustery football analysis that trumpets around, usually on Monday, but today on a Friday. It was ANZAC day yesterday, and there were a few games played. I actually walked through the park near the MCG yesterday as the people swarmed … Continue reading Sitting in Death’s Waiting Room.
Thursday, 11 April 1996 8:30pm Hey Sis, Sitting here, on a rainless night, thinking about nothing, as in not thinking nothing but thinking about nothing. I do this sometimes at work, or when I’m bored. Think of it. Nothing. No matter, so no space. No time. Hmmm. There’s no time. I guess time doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Time is only measurable in its effect … Continue reading Girls either tart right up or slob right down after a break up. I suppose men do the same but lack the dramatic apparatus of make-up and mini-skirts.
Tuesday, 9 April 1996 9:48pm Hey Sis, How you doing? Another typed letter from your bro. Poorly typed an’ all. It’s raining here, on Easter Tuesday. Jana Wendt is on Channel 7, hosting her new (and deskless, might I add) show, “Witness”. It’s quite highbrow, long pieces on “real” issues. I do suspect, however, that she is sans desk simply to show off her legs. … Continue reading I’m drunk on juicy office gossip.
An Aside from S In this letter J says that he is typing his 1996 diary and that it is filed in a folder – I have never seen/found this folder which is why there are no diary excerts for 1996. He also writes about protecting and destroying his diary… Sunday, 17 March 1996 Hey Sis, here’s an overdue letter, eh? Sorry to … Continue reading How long is 90 seconds? I’ll tell you.
Monday, 29 February 1996 Sis, It’s leap year day, last one for eight years apparently. Some glitch in the cosmos, I don’t pretend to understand. Spent the day blanched by the suffocating heat, indulging in office gossip shenanigans. I love the word shenanigans. There it is again, shenanigans, shenanigans. Made castles in Spain with Scottish Lisa in the tea room. I was going to write a … Continue reading And so my great journey across the desert of Coitus Non-Existus continues…
Monday, 5 February 1996 11:08 am So Friday I go over to “Klicks” for drinks. I’ve worked out my budget, and I know I really ought to go after two or three beers, because I’ve got this pub crawl thing with Quinn on Saturday night. Quinn used to work here, now he’s in advertising with a four day week and an enormous bloody salary. Anyway, … Continue reading These fellas were wading through the vomit-lake and heaving with jocularity like Vikings. I quickly fled the scene.
Monday, 22 January 1996 12:22PM S, Gotta meet Kate (Brett’s old girlfriend) today for lunch. A bit nervous about it really, I always struggle for something to talk about with her. She’s going overseas in about five weeks with her post-Brett bloke, Hussein, supposedly for good. (I must remember to give them your number Sis, I know how you love taking in free-loading Aussie backpackers, don’t let … Continue reading I can’t call Crazy Tim, “crazy” anymore – turns out he actually is.