Last week I had to take my car down to Penrith to get a service and buy all the things needed for Roccos birthday party: lollies, piñata fillers, balloons. Basically a whole heap of crap. I wasn't in the best frame of mind, but did it anyway. Sometimes if I ignore how I feel and just do the things I need to do, I come good.
There was no coming good. My car took eight hours to get serviced, which left me stranded in the shopping centre freaking out because it was too peopley. I pushed my trolley around and around, kind of doing a workout. All the medication and lack of exercise lately ... I've put on a lot of weight and feel disgusting.
I had the bright idea to walk to the car dealership while pushing my trolley because who cares, right? When I got outside it started to get a bit tricky because you're not supposed to push a trolley outside. You look like an idiot.
People heard me coming a mile off. So embarrassment. I pushed my trolley to an intersection busy with people and cars. CRINGING. Just ridiculously self-conscious. And then suddenly, right next to me ..... stood a lady with a packed trolley just like me.
Out of all the people I've met on the street so far, she spoke to me first. It was so refreshing, and lovely, and reliving. She said:
"Oh thank goodness. I thought I would be the only one pushing a trolley outside in the street!"
And I said I though the exact same thing! The light turned green and we crossed the road joking that all we need is nineteen cats. And we parted ways, her with a cheery,
"See ya! Hope your boy has a nice party!"
I don't know her name and she left so quickly I only managed a photo of my shadow pushing my trolley.
Clearly my guardian angel is too busy smoking cigarettes to be watching out for me.
I got lost walking back to the car dealership. While pushing my trolley, on main roads, back and forth, tears sproinging. Beautiful teenaged schoolgirls smelling of body lotion, walking past me with skirts hitched up, no idea that life is meaningless and youth is fleeting.
The terrain was so rough that my teeth clattered. I was like that fucking tinker in the original Willy Wonka. Remember Charlie standing there, longingly looking at the factory? And suddenly this tinker appears and says:
"Nobody ever goes in. And nobody ever goes out."
And when he walks off SO noisily you just don't know how he managed to walk up to Charlie so quietly. It's always puzzled me.
So I'm this middle-aged grey-haired tinker pushing a trolley laden with shit topped with a number five piñata, crying.
It eventually all worked out in the end. Obviously. The best part was walking in solidarity with my trolley sister. I'm so glad she spoke to me.
::
Friday Street Talk is an unfolding art project. I'm so grateful and blown away that people say yes to talking with me, trusting me with some snippets of who they are. It keeps changing.
Previous Street talks:
1. Noelene the Young
2. Megan the Mouse
3. Harpal the Australian
4. Darren the Artist
5. Jo the Interesting
6. John the Telstra Guy
7. Michael the Photographer
8. Peg the Lady
9. Jeff the Preacher Man
10. Andres the Cobbler
11. Honey the Prostitute
12. Mark the Masseur
13. You the Blog Reader
14. Jo the Podiatrist
15. Casey the Uni Student
16. Dream the Horse and Carriage Driver
17. Tamas the Hungarian Accordionist
There was no coming good. My car took eight hours to get serviced, which left me stranded in the shopping centre freaking out because it was too peopley. I pushed my trolley around and around, kind of doing a workout. All the medication and lack of exercise lately ... I've put on a lot of weight and feel disgusting.
I had the bright idea to walk to the car dealership while pushing my trolley because who cares, right? When I got outside it started to get a bit tricky because you're not supposed to push a trolley outside. You look like an idiot.
People heard me coming a mile off. So embarrassment. I pushed my trolley to an intersection busy with people and cars. CRINGING. Just ridiculously self-conscious. And then suddenly, right next to me ..... stood a lady with a packed trolley just like me.
Out of all the people I've met on the street so far, she spoke to me first. It was so refreshing, and lovely, and reliving. She said:
"Oh thank goodness. I thought I would be the only one pushing a trolley outside in the street!"
And I said I though the exact same thing! The light turned green and we crossed the road joking that all we need is nineteen cats. And we parted ways, her with a cheery,
"See ya! Hope your boy has a nice party!"
I don't know her name and she left so quickly I only managed a photo of my shadow pushing my trolley.
I got lost walking back to the car dealership. While pushing my trolley, on main roads, back and forth, tears sproinging. Beautiful teenaged schoolgirls smelling of body lotion, walking past me with skirts hitched up, no idea that life is meaningless and youth is fleeting.
The terrain was so rough that my teeth clattered. I was like that fucking tinker in the original Willy Wonka. Remember Charlie standing there, longingly looking at the factory? And suddenly this tinker appears and says:
"Nobody ever goes in. And nobody ever goes out."
And when he walks off SO noisily you just don't know how he managed to walk up to Charlie so quietly. It's always puzzled me.
So I'm this middle-aged grey-haired tinker pushing a trolley laden with shit topped with a number five piñata, crying.
It eventually all worked out in the end. Obviously. The best part was walking in solidarity with my trolley sister. I'm so glad she spoke to me.
::
Friday Street Talk is an unfolding art project. I'm so grateful and blown away that people say yes to talking with me, trusting me with some snippets of who they are. It keeps changing.
Previous Street talks:
1. Noelene the Young
2. Megan the Mouse
3. Harpal the Australian
4. Darren the Artist
5. Jo the Interesting
6. John the Telstra Guy
7. Michael the Photographer
8. Peg the Lady
9. Jeff the Preacher Man
10. Andres the Cobbler
11. Honey the Prostitute
12. Mark the Masseur
13. You the Blog Reader
14. Jo the Podiatrist
15. Casey the Uni Student
16. Dream the Horse and Carriage Driver
17. Tamas the Hungarian Accordionist
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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell