Waiting at Central
The flashing of large money in my wallet was also a bonus of shopping etiquette and the thrill of walking away having them think I looked good in the clothes or that I was a big spender was also a distinction that creates such memorable shopping. Heading down to Central Station as it was closest I tried to find myself an express train but there were none on the scales for hours. Therefore, I had to catch a normal train home in which I got frustrated watching four trains take off from my platform before a Campbelltown train arrived.
Each time a train would arrive I would pick up all my bags and walk over to read the notice board but would then have to sit down again knowing that it was the wrong train. In that time of boredom I did notice a girl from three platforms away looking in our direction. Uncertain if she was looking at me and all my bags from such a distance I couldn’t see her eyes but decided to play an intimidation game.
The Intimidation Game
Staring right at her for a minute or two without flinching I played the serial killer by leaving a blank expression of cold-blooded malignance on my face, running my finger across my neck unbeknownst to anyone but her. Doing a little fanciful wave with my finger across my throat with a slight point towards her and then back down to the bottom of my necklace, I was out for intimidation, to see if she was watching. When I get bored enough I do play the callous criminal, the psychopathic killer and deranged lunatic.
I find it best suits my quiet nature when most I wait for public transport and it just so happens that there was a victim looming just platforms away. My little skit happened to attract her attention as she glanced away for a couple of seconds and then kept peeking over at me and looking away on occasion. There were one or two people sitting near me that probably saw my little hand signals and either thought I was weird or part of some elusive gang. Again, it brought satisfaction to my otherwise uneventful waiting period, to cause confusion and perplexity in people’s minds about who I really am.
Budget Talk Before Bed
The train home wasn’t anything special to talk about apart from my reading through FHM to occupy some time. Passing Glenfield I started making my way down to the first carriage so that it would be easier to get off. In this little trek I didn’t come across anyone that I can remember off the top of my head, it was fairly half-handed. Anyway, from Campbelltown I caught a bus back to my house and as I started to type away on my computer I also worked out how much I had spent and then my budget for the next month.
At one stage I had a shower and after a couple of hours sleep deprivation got to me in between my writing in my memoirs. Speaking of deprivation, I feel the need to get myself to sleep now for the night. The time is 11:45 p.m. and I feel that this is early compared to some of the nights I have mustered before heading to work. Let me hope that my sending my form to Centrelink last week has turned up in good hands in which I will receive a week’s pay tomorrow.
Optimism is a bit lacking but somehow, I just know that money will come through for me. If I don’t get paid on Monday then I won’t be able to head to a possible clubbing night in the City next weekend. In addition, I won’t be able to get my photos developed that were used up on Friday night before heading out and these negatives that were given to me tonight by Tamsen from her 21st Birthday Party.
Keith and Tamsen Arrive
Shit, I have to explain Keith’s coming over my house before I leave tonight so that Sunday can be without explanation in future editions. Basically, they arrived around 8:30 p.m. or thereafter at my house tonight. Keith took a couple of minutes to warm down his car, probably thinking that I would step out or probably having an argument with Tamsen already.
Within a couple of minutes they made their way into my house and with my earlier thought in this diary that I wouldn’t mind giving Tamsen a squeeze I decided upon a light fragrance of Lynx. Keith and Tamsen would be completely oblivious to my intentions of alluring her nose and I wasn’t trying to woo her, just acting on impulse. In addition, I decided against leaving my shirt off as it would just be too much pomposity on display.
Old Photos and a Chubby Face
Keith took out my photos as I looked through Tamsen’s photo album at the pictures in which I took some of them. Glancing through the lot of them I found myself to have a really chubby face, back in the days when I was at full weight in the Gym. Taking a look at the pictures now I can see the sacrifice I made for being big. Looking at my curved features, I had big arms that had no definition in them, only roundness.
My face was the telling tale of oncoming obesity and I wasn’t so much ashamed of my being a tad too large as I was working out but I was surprised. I wonder how I was reacting to my body back in those days because nowadays I feel that I am trim and looking good. Back then, when looking in the mirror after coming back from the Gym I probably would have loved the bulk I had but been tormented by my chubby features.
Choosing Reprints
Despite this despised attitude towards my former self I was surprised that I still had high confidence in myself. Anyway, I glanced through the photos and started writing down all the negatives that I wanted to get copied. Tamsen had two rolls of film from her party and from each one I chose out 11 copies which will cost me around $12 or more for reprints. The pictures that I chose are quality pictures and there’s a really hilarious one of me pulling a puffy face, holding a beer above Binh’s head as he hugged Tamsen, pretending that I was a tree in acting class.
I can remember thinking something like that upon taking one of the pictures and as I feel that I never pull a good pose for a camera because it always feels like I’m posing, I never appreciate photos with me in them. There are some good snap shots but when most I look at myself I think I’m either fat, didn’t look good in the photo or looked too gaudy. Keith and Tamsen stayed for around an hour and as they were leaving Keith tried to remind me that tomorrow night was trivia.
Upon their departure I headed straight for these pages and now here I am, ready to sign off. The time is now one minutes past midnight and thus far, many pages have been written in the memoirs for this month. Let there be more capitulation of my chronicled saga as I bid thee adios in knowledge that I will be here tomorrow night…
Diary Of A Mad Chaos is a daily diary written from March 1996 until today, of which individual books and book series have been created, namely “The Lost Years” an exploration of young, entwined love, the “Wubao In China (猎艳奇缘)” book series which provides an extensive comparative analysis of the cultural differences between Eastern and Western societies, and the book titled “Foreigner (华人)” an exploration of race relations in Australia.
