a mosey down memory lane

The last post was strewn with a panic-strickened theme, which I now realize was indeed veritable panic but I just sat there and did nothing, similar to how sage described my panic attacks back in the day, at the pit.

Following my visit from Darwin’s domicile where RHCP was memorable and the Edinburgh festival was that and more - in short, it all happened so fast; too fast. I thought I had everything figured out with the dissertation and the moving on the coincidental date. Got a medical certificate claiming that too much typing makes me faint (not a total lie), which was good for a three week extension and Stefano and I through a debatable stroke of luck found this notice in the business school – “Ty Pont Haern (pr. Tee Pont Hurn) room available” with an implicit declaration of “sublease possible”.

Some background. Since we weren’t sure as to what we’d be doing or where we’d wanna stay the next year, we didn’t want a nine to twelve months contract. Houses and apartments also came with agency fees, deposits, bonds, etc. This offer was all free of that so we apportioned amounts with the chink owner to illegally sublease the room in the 21 storey apartment complex.

Things were pretty much quotidian for the first couple of days when we realized there were loo issues. The exhaust fan was bust and so was the door lock. We sneakily tried to get the maintenance guy to fix the shiz but he ratted on us to the management instead. So we were thrown out.

With no direction and no place to go, we fortunately (contentious) came across a dodgy joint opposite a graveyard where the landlord was down with paying monthly. The six bedroom house awfully reminisced a ‘70s horror movie house. Most of these rooms were occupied by Polish chaps. Also, due to the lack of proper suitcases, we carried many light belongings in typical black garbage bags.

On the day we moved in to the ho-pole (“ho” ‘cos it feels like a whorehouse and “pole” ‘cos of Polish):

In my room:

Stefano: Well, that’s the last of the shit
Me: ok, man this place stinks. I don’t know why we ever took this dump
Stefano: yeah, it is pretty scary with that skylight just above the bed’s headrest and all
Me: yup, good thing we didn’t take that room
Stefano: man this place does stink
Me: holy mother! This garbage bag contains actual freakin’ garbage…
Stefano: what the? From Ty Pont?
Me: no, seems different somehow. Must be the polish guys’…must have gotten mixed up when we unloaded the shiz from the cab onto the patio
Stefano: fuck!
Me: fuck!

Doors open and murmuring voices emanate from the room across. Two guys in briefs come out and just stand there.

Me: our housemates
Stefano: ffff
Me: hi, I’m zlot from Sri Lanka
Pole: Sri Lanka? Tsunami!
Me: er, yes we were largely affected by that
Pole: we are Polish from Poland
Me: right. Well, we just moved it. Nice to meet you
Pole: ganja? Sri Lanka…
Me: huh? Oh right. Yeah, I mean no. I don’t have any umm right now
Pole oh <disappointed>
Me: well, good night

The next morning I see this gorgeous chick descending the staircase.

Chick: <scared> hi
Me: <stunned> huhhh-i
Me: where you from?
Chick: I don’t…speak…much...English
Me: ah. Poland?
Chick: yes, Poland!

After a long struggle I discovered that she and the rest of the poles work at Memory Lane. They make Polish cakes. She even brought an English-to-Polish dictionary, which is when I got fairly excited at the prospect of being able to tutor her. This was dashed by another young Polish bastid who I hadn’t met until then. He spoke fairly good English, worked at an autistic school and made his intentions clear about hitting on the pole-chick – Arnia! Argh!

One of the poles has a rather cute accent. Especially, when he says "that's gooood". He is also stoned for most part of the day.

So I picked up the Tanglewood box guitar that a friend left in my possession many months ago on condition I carry it back to SL whenever. I started with Breakfast at Tiffany’s, which I could never get quite right and then onto the Nirvana tunes where the barre chord strumming came back fairly quickly. I then decided to try some Bishop Allen - the band that got me through my thesis.

And I’m off to find work.