I’ve done all the dumb things

I left work at 1:00pm this afternoon, and as I began to cross the street I noticed a man crossing in the opposite direction. I looked up at him briefly, then did a double take. It was Aussie icon Paul Kelly (if the blog title doesn’t make sense now, you are lacking basic musical knowledge and I’m not sure we can be friends anymore [foreigners are excused]). This is the man whose music I was playing just before I left work. The man whose songs about Melbourne make me feel homesick when I’m still in Melbourne. The man whose autobiography I’m pretty sure I’ll never finish because it’s too heavy to carry around and when I’m at home I’m generally too distracted by Facebook and sleep.

For non-Australians and Australians who live under a rock, in a nutshell, he’s like our Bob Dylan. Except he’s talented.

I didn’t have the guts to go talk to him, but what really worried me was that this thought crossed my mind: ‘…should I follow him?’

SHOULD I FOLLOW HIM? What the hell kind of crazy stalker thought was that? No, no I’m not going to speak to him, I’m just going to walk behind him for a while to see where he goes. And you want to know what’s even more worrying than that? I’ve done it before.

The year was 2009. The place was Edinburgh. The person was a reasonably well known comedian. I’m not even a fan, I just saw him walking around and I had some time to kill. It ended when he seemed to realise I was following him and slowed down to a pace that made it impossible for me to maintain the same distance behind him without looking extremely suss. So I walked past him and tried to look as casual as possible. I wasn’t arrested, so I think I got away with it.

The following year at the Melbourne Comedy Festival a similar situation arose with a comedian I am fan of, though I refuse to take responsibility for that one. The reason we were walking in the same direction was because I was on my way to his show. As, not surprisingly, was he. I felt too awkward about standing next to him at the traffic lights as we waited to cross the street, so I sat down on a nearby bench and played with my phone for a while before continuing on my way.

So later tonight I’m going to take Paul Kelly's autobiography down from my bookshelf, place it on my bed so that I don’t forget about it, then proceed to not finish reading it again. Then I’m going to take a good hard look at myself and my thought processes.

EUROTRIP 2011! Things I learned in London

I learned…

…what Fosters tastes like. London pubs have Fosters on tap. Australian pubs don’t have Fosters at all. Sorry if I blew your minds with that, international readers (eg. that one person in Guatemala).

…I’m the kind of person who laughs at this:
…celebrity chef Heston Blumenthal will charge you a butt load of money for this, and you will pay it because it’s meat that looks like fruit and you’re convinced he must be some kind of crazy wizard.
…the people who run the London Eye have something against obsessive compulsive folk. There's one red capsule. One. I took countless photos of this from a ridiculous amount of angles and was convinced for a while that I’d never be able to sleep again knowing it was there. Bastards.
…it’s 11:57. …some people will name their business without properly thinking it through.
…you shouldn’t buy a drink just because it has a picture of an old-timey robot on it and you are someone who loves old-timey robots. I drank freakin yogurt.
…sometimes in life, you will be faced with near impossible choices……but if you follow your heart, you’ll be happy with the choice you made…
…and I mean really, properly, ecstatically happy.
...and finally: this is, and forever will be, the best money I've ever spent.

EUROTRIP 2011! What happens on tour, stays on blogger

I'm back! I spent about 5 weeks travelling around the UK and Europe and it was awesome. There may be more of these posts in weeks to come... or there may not be. But there probably will be.

FRANCE
Frog’s legs taste like fishy chicken. Or chickeny fish. It depends on your perspective. But look how excited I was! (Don’t ask about snails. I couldn’t bring myself to try the snails)I also got extremely sunburnt here. Yeah. And I live in Australia where the sun is about a metre from your face. I hope this helps you all understand why I don't go outside.

GREECE
MYTH ABOUT GREECE: It’s all about dancing and plate smashing and sOOper happy fun good times.
TRUTH ABOUT GREECE: People on the roads are crazy. You can’t flush toilet paper down the toilet and instead have to put it in the bin because their plumbing is crazy. You shake your head for ‘yes’ and nod your head for ‘no’ because that’s crazy. You can’t drink the water (I’m assuming this is how you catch the crazy).* (artist's interpretation of toilet paper being thrown into the bin. No photo for obvious reasons)

CZECH REPUBLIC
Ever been to a restaurant where everyone cancelled their reservation for that evening except for you and your friend? Because I bloody well have. Then the three piece band awkwardly plays for you anyway? And the girl who was supposed to sing with them puts her comfy clothes back on before she comes out to sing for the two of you? And the guy who works there keeps bringing you drinks? And you get to a point where you can’t drink anymore, so you leave a bit of beer in the bottom of your glass, but he takes it away and brings you another one anyway? Then you get so drunk that the awkwardness becomes hilarious and you start having the time of your life? (the old guy on the left checked out my friend’s ass when she came back from the toilet. Ah, precious memories.)



*Dear Greek people: I understand that you, personally, as individuals, are not crazy. You are victims of circumstance. Apart from the bad driving. That's all you.