33 Square Meters

Paris has a lot going for it. We got to spend three days there. Three full days taking in the great city of light.

Mostly spent walking around eating and drinking. Which isn’t a bad way to spend your time anywhere.

We spent the first night with my Cousin who had he comfiest sofa bed in Europe. Then we went off to our flat we had rented. A small dusty studio flat with unvarnished wooden floors and french windows opened up over the rooftops. If you pressed your face to the wall you could just get a view of the Sacre-Coeur.

We cracked a cheap bottle of wine, tore a crust off a baguette and got excited for the things to come.

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Another Postcard Afternoon.

It stunk out. A stiff northerly kicked up a dust devil as I stepped out of the car and walked to the drive thru bottle-o. Grit’s whipped into my eyes. They weep as I’m peeling the shirt off my back, I step into the cool room and quickly find the cheapest slab pale ale.

“Cheer up mate, cant be that bad” the bald mad with stubby digits says to the chuckle of a small crowd of local boozers queuing up at the counter.

Back in the lot. Looks like a wreckers backyard. Cars parked haphazardly wherever they’ll fit across the potholed mosaic of asphalt and broken glass. Its always been like this since I’ve known it.

But it wont be forever. No.

A passing glance reveals a wee tsunami of gentrification washing through the streets of old Palmy. Shiny white Cafes, Hip restaurants, boutique shops and trendy barbers. A dozen or so popping up in the last year. The pissheads with the blistered coupons wont be chuckling when they cant afford the rent anymore.

The slabs in the boot. I spark up and sink back into the cab.

Suns getting low.

Lighting up the faded pastels of the highway motels real nicely.

Lights go red.

Lights go green.

Lights go red.

Traffic backs up and we all crawl along in this beautiful stinking postcard afternoon together.

 

Slob

There’s chocolate on my keyboard. Been spending more time watching movies and television on it than anything else. Been getting some bad habits from this sedentary life.

Last week I slammed my head on a quarter-pipe and probably needed a stitch or two but my medicare had expired. So I got a few longnecks and some KFC. Cleaned the cut with those moist towelettes on the drive home.

Thats my exciting story of the past week. That, and I ate 5 whoppers in 5 days.

 

Death to Smoochy

There was an ice skating scene with a Barney the dinosaur knockoffplayed by Edward Norton and a clown played by Robin Williams. I was watching it hungover. It was in the afternoon. On analogue television a long time ago and I thought it was pretty great at the time.

It was out of all context. Just a holiday to someplace.

You know Dany Devito made films?

Wood Chips

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It’s another Monday in the kitchen. The weekend rush is over, now its time to get to work organising the kitchen for the week ahead, to restock the cold room and unpack the largest, bulkiest delivery of the week, which is comprised of dry goods and long holding products, like cheese. The washing machine is on the fritz and the frier needs and oil change too but thats enough mundane detail from the life we chose to live. As thrilled as I know you are to hear it.

I’m joined by Tommy Gun the cool Kiwi who is slicing very ripe tomatoes as I unpack the delivery.  Now join me as I run my knife along the packing tape of a box to reveal a collection of goats cheese logs…

I pick up the perfectly round cylinder and flip in in my palm, slapping it down on the bench to grab Toms attention.

“What do you think of this Goats Cheese we’re using?”

Tom shot me a downcast look, “Not great bro, I don’t really dig it hey”

“The taste?”

“Yeah there’s something about it, hey. Its not right”

“Yeah its shitty alright” I roll another roll onto the bench

“You know what it tastes like? Its like a goats cheese made by a robot in a some kind of, not too distant, dystopian future where automation has progressed to a point where all food production has been taken over by robots.”

“Yeah, its got no soul!” Tommy exclaimed excitedly.

“And it tastes like plastic too… Cheap though.” I say, with a resigned shrug.

I bundle up the rolls and grab some other bits and make my way to the cool room. Outside the clouds are rolling in, creeping over the sunshine. A few customers are walking up the steps, two by two. Another trucks pulled in with the fruit and veg. He’s fudging about in the back of the truck, no doubt somethings missing, I’ll deal with that the on the way back in…

Across the road the last rays of light hit the ocean as the traffic begins to back up through the intersection.

And I step off the steamy street, into the cool air of the walk-in.