in the city alone

I randomly stepped into a China-man's shop one day in Footscray and told the shopkeeper that I needed a good luck charm. He showed me a glass case full of little wallet-sized cards. They looked golden and featured foreign gods and goddesses and symbols unknown to me. He explained the differences in the cards and when he came across one in particular -- one that would bring good luck and ward of evil, I was already sold. This gold card was bordered by the symbol which could easily be mistaken for the swastika. The corners were adorned with hearts. In the center, surrounded in a glorious blaze of fire stood a God with furrowed eyebrows, fangs, and pointed ears. He looked intimidating, but in the same sense, I felt protected. I bought it. The shopkeeper asked for my name and day of birth and requested I pay then and come back later for he must bless it. I trusted him and came back the next day to retrieve my good luck charm.

As I walked along Swanston Street in Melbourne's CBD area, after successfully fare evading on three separate train lines and a tram line, I noticed at every intersection the green little runny man illuminate followed by that wonderful fast-paced clicking signalling the "okay" to cross the street.

Maybe that shopkeeper did bless my good luck charm. Or maybe because I'm aware it's in my wallet, I'm just noticing all the good things happening in my life right now.

I passed a group of old men trying desperately to get the attention of pedestrians to sign their petitions. Useless, I mused. How many petitions have I signed in the past? How many of those petitions have done any good? There's still wars, there's still poverty, there's still hungry people on the street. And why do I walk past when signing a piece of paper is hardly an inconvenience of my time? Why do thousands of other people pass the petition just as easily as I did then? Is it because the green runny man ahead is about to flash red? Are we in a hurry? In a hurry for what? To get that latest latte from Starbucks?

My eyes followed the big green sign spelling out "Starbucks". That was the second one on this street. If they were smart they would spread out, but then again look at all the fucking 7-11's in Melbourne. Jesus Christ. But at least there's only two Starbucks here.

I passed another group, this time of young men trying desperately to get the attention of pedestrians to sign up for some charity. I did that kind of work for a day. That job sucks. Good on ya mate for trying. Usually these boys and girls are backpackers or young Aussies hopeful of reaching their sale targets for the day; hopeful that they too will have their own office, secretary, and team of unlucky backpackers to shove onto the streets with their caffeine-driven optimism and dollar signs for eyes. Today must already have taken its toll on that young blond bloke, though, he attempted to stop a lady in a business suit. He failed, and sighed. His smile disappeared briefly, but then he grinned again as someone approached in his sale-pitch radius. I probably looked like that back at Chadstone Shopping Centre. Smiling falsely to the mums, grans and pops, and tourists as I tried to remain happy and energetic. I'll say it again, that job sucks.

All this commentary was running in my head as I was running away.

I don't know what else to put here... other than to say.. not only do I think too much, I complain too much.

I don't think I will ever change in that department.

And so, with regret, I say with confidence: Leave if you don't like who I am. I can't and won't change.