Rosamund At The Bus Stop
Jumping off at Campbelltown Station, I noticed two younger girls sitting at the back of the carriage to which they looked like potential sluts in later life. One of them had her boobs uplifted in a top with a crested portion to which you could see the coming together of her boobs. Making my keen eyed way past them, I jumped off the train and made my relaxed stroll to the bus-stop. Noting what seemed to be an moderately attractive girl, I sat between her and some guy with fair distance between us.
As the guy began talking about the buses being late and his hatred for cancellations, I sparked some conversation with him, spraying myself with some Lynx along the way. I could sense that the girl was looking over at me curiously and when the guy caught his bus I thought to myself “Why let this vibe go to waste”. Therefore, I started conversation by asking “You’re waiting for the Bradbury bus are you” and from there, we enjoyed impartial conversation.
There wasn’t much in this conversation that wasn’t shed in first base with Ondine but it was more boost to my growing confidence that talking to girls is so easy. Her name being Rosamund, I wasn’t the only one asking the questions and adding to conversation as to my last conversation. We talked of her living on Campbellfield Avenue and trying to guess her nationality or her age was much harder than expected.
She was softly spoken, not really adding anything unless it was worthwhile and having no ands or ums in conversation. When jumping on the bus I sat down first and then hoping that she wouldn’t snob me off, she ended up sitting right across from me. Content with her decision, we continued our chat as she told me she worked in Hunter Street in the City, right off Wynyard Station. Being a Receptionist, she told me she wanted something closer to home, in Campbelltown.
Keith Dodges Skirmish
My conversation with Rosamund on the bus didn’t last the length of the ten minute trip as we sat to ourselves for a couple of minutes but ended up saying goodbye to each other. Heading home, I started writing upon these pages and a shower later, I received a call from Jett. Basically, he noted how Keith had squirreled his way out of heading to Skirmish this Sunday and offered Jett a chance to use his already paid deposit as a means in.
Keith wanted Jett to head over to his house and pay him the deposit money but I was insistent that Jett didn’t give a shit. Trying to find out information for Jett, I called up Tyler to which I found out the location of this big Skirmish encounter. Asking Tyler if he knew the most recent news about Keith he thought he knew what I was on about when he exclaimed “Oh yeah, you mean the Catholic Club on Friday that Keith arranged”.
“Didn’t Keith tell you of his being a dog” I asked to which after a couple of seconds Tyler figured out what Keith’s big dog act was. “What a dog” he spoke in a morose and disheartened state. There was now no faith or love for Keith and as the word dog is just as big a cliché as his arguments with Tamsen, I told him to forget about Keith. “Don’t go to the Catholic Club on Friday, take a stand, don’t take his shit”.
Done With Keith
Tyler expressed his abhorrence for the fat prick and much added to his last conversation yesterday, he repeated how Keith now thought he was King shit with Tamsen. This new re-surge of equal animosity for Keith spurred Tyler to urge his desires to head to a club on Friday night. Tyler as I is sick of heading to Chevy’s so our plans for the City next weekend are surely to be validly received. This month might see some celebration after all and finally, a trip to the City where I can christen the club clothes I wear.
Giving Jett back a call a minute later, I explained to him the plans for Sunday morning and the shortage of cars. Keith decided to dump all the problems onto everyone else, probably deciding to stay home because the pressure was on him to drive the car. Well, if Jett strays from giving Keith his money, then Keith will be losing out on $25, more than the price of the petrol money allowed to drive up there and back.
I have so much spite for Keith these days as does everyone else who have finally wizened up on par with me. Keith is officially disbarred from our group and along with Tamsen, they are inferior to our workings. Anyway, that was my night until this very moment and as the time has already crept to 11:45 p.m., I am at a loss to speak of any other chronology.
This main two hours of my life caused major congestion in these pages and as I still have a portion of Friday at work to write of, when tomorrow arrives, I’ll have the whole of this work week to depict. There are many pages on the chopping board and as I will have a busy night tomorrow and the same throughout the weekend, it is looking more like my having to take a day off work soon just to catch up on the majority of this lagging chronology. Anyway, before my eyes drift afar, let me drift in another way, with sleep the pursue this order of necessity further when best greets 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.
