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- Madhat v1.0
- Triannual cough
- 32
- Lazy that is I
- Zeitgeist
- Back on the scene
- The room, the sun and the sky
- Perfecting the Ginga Mo
- Darkness
- Another return to Minto
- September 2004
- October 2004
- November 2004
- December 2004
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- March 2005
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- March 2007
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- May 2008
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- November 2012
- April 2013
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Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Madhat v1.0
My daughter turned one last week.
Being somewhat dewy to the atmospheres of fatherhood you mature daily with relatively similar concepts.
Some points exist which can be referred to ;
Then the questions. The endless amount of questions you ask yourself, people, fathers, mothers, internet forums, strangers in a pub.... they never stop.
Why is it that I can stand over a cot for an eon looking at peaceful bliss?
Why do I dream of her older than what she really is now?
Why can't she make some sounds but do others?
Why does she love to play with my ear before she goes to sleep?
Why does she wake up in the middle of the night? If she has nightmares - then what in her life creates these nightmares?
Why did I feel like the worst person on earth when I see her fall for the first time and hurt herself? Why is it hard sometimes, and easy other times?
Why don't I have enough time with her - when it's consumed by work or life?
Why do I call her Boom-Boom?
Why does she love me when she's only known me for 1 year of her life?
Why does a cardboard box bring her more enjoyment then the actual toy in it?
I tend to sit and watch her rather than watch television, waiting for her to stare back at me. I tend to pull a face, smile or mimic a ridiculous voice (which I've found myself doing in public more than often). The smile in return, the tilt of her head to the side, a giggle or the "Da Da Da" I hear continuously at 5am each morning grants a glow. This glow I now know is what only fathers have to their children. The glow is something possibly bottled into a photo left on your work table or inside the wallet. Possibly spoken about to another colleague who has no children and you're boring them to death with another Guess What story. Possibly recreated from its initial evoke once remembered.
I'm starting to understand. I'm loving my own parents even more because of this enlightenment.
One question is clear to me now though, and it does require the need to answer, and clearly does not need excusing as much as it balances itself with ensuring there is sufficient prompting.
Why can't I fail her?
My daughter turned one last week.
Being somewhat dewy to the atmospheres of fatherhood you mature daily with relatively similar concepts.
Some points exist which can be referred to ;
- Time management is often referred to so much in our humdrum lives at work. But never have I thought that it was needed to understand that from dusk until dawn their are rituals I find myself doing.
- Chatting to other new parents and trying to gain an understanding or bell curve of when they may have finally snapped in a time line.
- Explaining that the growth of my 1 year old is in directly related to the scale of my own external persona and that the wearing of 3's at her age is nothing to be alarmed about.
Then the questions. The endless amount of questions you ask yourself, people, fathers, mothers, internet forums, strangers in a pub.... they never stop.
Why is it that I can stand over a cot for an eon looking at peaceful bliss?
Why do I dream of her older than what she really is now?
Why can't she make some sounds but do others?
Why does she love to play with my ear before she goes to sleep?
Why does she wake up in the middle of the night? If she has nightmares - then what in her life creates these nightmares?
Why did I feel like the worst person on earth when I see her fall for the first time and hurt herself? Why is it hard sometimes, and easy other times?
Why don't I have enough time with her - when it's consumed by work or life?
Why do I call her Boom-Boom?
Why does she love me when she's only known me for 1 year of her life?
Why does a cardboard box bring her more enjoyment then the actual toy in it?
I tend to sit and watch her rather than watch television, waiting for her to stare back at me. I tend to pull a face, smile or mimic a ridiculous voice (which I've found myself doing in public more than often). The smile in return, the tilt of her head to the side, a giggle or the "Da Da Da" I hear continuously at 5am each morning grants a glow. This glow I now know is what only fathers have to their children. The glow is something possibly bottled into a photo left on your work table or inside the wallet. Possibly spoken about to another colleague who has no children and you're boring them to death with another Guess What story. Possibly recreated from its initial evoke once remembered.
I'm starting to understand. I'm loving my own parents even more because of this enlightenment.
One question is clear to me now though, and it does require the need to answer, and clearly does not need excusing as much as it balances itself with ensuring there is sufficient prompting.
Why can't I fail her?
LS at 4/17/2013 12:28:00 AM
0 comments
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Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Triannual cough
We write to think about an experience which may or may not effect us.
The outcome is the transition of brain to fingers or ink to paper.
That process may decide on the fluidity of if the statement remains true to the writer or the reader.
(3 years and that's all I've got after 5 minutes) lol :)
LS at 11/13/2012 10:27:00 PM
0 comments
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Wednesday, July 01, 2009
32
Drinking the last remnants of a great bottle of scotch Rob gave to me on my 30th, I manage to capture a documentary of Bellini.
I cast a weary eye on my arm ... Happy New Year.
Cheers all
ps. I didn't win the 90 million.
I cast a weary eye on my arm ... Happy New Year.
Cheers all
ps. I didn't win the 90 million.
LS at 7/01/2009 12:03:00 AM
0 comments
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Sunday, August 24, 2008
Lazy that is I
----------------------------
For the first time in a long time I stood still. A stream that turned into an ocean that found its sand to break on. I've seated myself down and the tidal wave recedes. With music in ones ear. I write.
I've run out of music of late. My daily car drives to and from the grind has fulfilled a good remainder of new music needs(and I don't mean any of that brit-pop gems some people worship). I toll over older catalogues and randomly choose Carnavas and it is only until lucky number number seven reveals its head that the spiral occurs.
I hope this can remain the next beginning of change, out of our cocoon like state, that we swirm our way out of. Or should we say I?
Once a week should be a very good start.
Clean Execution?
For the first time in a long time I stood still. A stream that turned into an ocean that found its sand to break on. I've seated myself down and the tidal wave recedes. With music in ones ear. I write.
I've run out of music of late. My daily car drives to and from the grind has fulfilled a good remainder of new music needs(and I don't mean any of that brit-pop gems some people worship). I toll over older catalogues and randomly choose Carnavas and it is only until lucky number number seven reveals its head that the spiral occurs.
I hope this can remain the next beginning of change, out of our cocoon like state, that we swirm our way out of. Or should we say I?
Once a week should be a very good start.
Clean Execution?
LS at 8/24/2008 05:15:00 AM
0 comments
_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Zeitgeist
I was sitting with a friend a year and a half ago drinking enough whiskey to make me forget in the morning of what we were actually talking about the night before.
It was this - Zeitgeist.
If you have two hours to spare and want to educate and make up your own mind at the end. Then go ahead and watch. I won't bore you with the details and arguments that I went into that very night with my good friend - but I will tell you that the whiskey was single malt and we had plenty of ice.
I did come to the conclusion that if the Sun represented heaven then Pluto must be hell.
Anyhow - as I said - 2 hours spare and watch this;
Zeitgeist: The Movie (press play)
Oh and thanks Mike for making my brain remember it all again.
It was this - Zeitgeist.
If you have two hours to spare and want to educate and make up your own mind at the end. Then go ahead and watch. I won't bore you with the details and arguments that I went into that very night with my good friend - but I will tell you that the whiskey was single malt and we had plenty of ice.
I did come to the conclusion that if the Sun represented heaven then Pluto must be hell.
Anyhow - as I said - 2 hours spare and watch this;
Zeitgeist: The Movie (press play)
Oh and thanks Mike for making my brain remember it all again.
LS at 6/14/2008 02:23:00 AM
0 comments
_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Back on the scene
----------------------------------------------------
I've found that if you neglect to do certain things, you eventually forget about them, and it is only a small memory of yesteryear or a reminder that makes you realize that one does need to act. Of this, I feel sometimes I need a personal organizer or to remember that laziness is still one of my stronger traits.
Acting on impulse, I drove home only to remember that an old basketball mate, Steve, was playing tonight at my local basketball stadium, where I spent a good 10+ years organizing friends to play basketball. As I come and go in their lives I have seen them get married, have numerous children, become a support to their ear and a friend which has been a privilege.
On coming home Steve's wife had already sent me an email (fate one would say?) reminding me of the starting time he was playing tonight. Feeling this to be a good sign to pull on some jeans and head on down to the courts to watch some old school community basketball.
As I walked into the courts I was greeted with the familiar smell of sweat and squeaking of rubber soles, along with the beeps and buzzes which came from the rickety scoreboard that each team member helped man on the sides of the courts. I smiled seeing kids I used to play against now grown men, and older men I used to size up still playing along and looking still as mean, although wearing the occasional strap or support on a joint.
I forgot about the joy I got from walking into this place and the value it has placed in my life along with the random connections of not only my basketball friends but other friends who have trodden the floors to a different kind of beat. My introduction to the rave scene (Al to click here) was in this place at 4am returning home on New Years Day circa 1996 - later finding out in life that some of people dancing were experiencing the same thing and have now become life long friends (even though finding out Dyewitness never actually played there that night - it still opened my eyes up).
Ray was still behind the counter met me with a smile and a
"You're back? Who you playing with?" and my reply with a smile and a shake of the head "I'm here to see Steve actually."
Finding out from her he was playing on court 2 and remembering at the same time that her real name was Lily and she hated people calling her that. I'll tease her late.
As I trundled over getting the occasional pat on the back and smile from people I have not seen for near well over 7 years brought a beaming smile back at them. With a customary slap of the hand or touch of fist, which I always felt very uncool doing and seemed to usually miss or manage to screw up somehow, it felt like old times again. Yet I had hit my thirties and have piled on a solid 15 more kilos and felt as mobile as the Energizer bunny's Grey counterparts.
Seeing Steve and finding out all the gossip made me smile, and even made me want to shoot hoops again. I felt nervous as the orange globe now looked foreign. Sinking the first bucket made me realize that I still had a gram left of grace, shortly lived when Steve was saying 'I bet you can still dunk it too.' Only to have me miss the ring completed and sail underneath the backboard with my calves burning in the pain.
"We're short a man."
"Some things never change." I reply to Steve, knowing that it became a regular occurrence in community basketball competitions.
"Here's some shorts.. lets get you geared up."
"You what...." my outcry and surprise that the next 40 minutes would have me running, of which I also have not done for well over two years, outside of intoxication.
The next 40 minutes was one of the most painful discoveries to my body. The shoes I'm wearing are at no time appropriate or helpful and muscles forgotten about were dancing the joy of spasm. We won though, I scored zip however as per usual guarded the key like a viking warrior and actually rebounded most of the game (Hurray me!). Please note that running the full length of the court was very infrequent.
I'm now registered and in a team and set to play next Wednesday. Although my body is not overly impressed with this rash decision. I was grateful though, as many people know that I have only the height which helped me exert defence in basketball. The remainder I needed most of all in basketball (mainly bouncing the ball in a co-ordinated manner) lacked.
Visiting places and seeing old friends is not a burden as it seems. Encountering the bizarre chain of events that may happen while doing so is all part of the process. Although it seemed like a spur of the moment thing to do - it reminded me how privileged I have been.
As Steve put it too me and I wholeheartedly agreed with him as I stood outside his house.
'....we're all lucky to be here and sometimes people just don't see it, like when they're at work complaining about [trivial] things. I try and remind them....'
As he said this - it blew a chord with my mentality of late. As I listened to what I have missed out in his life and family it made me humble and appreciate that the old friends and scenes should always be remembered and that stretching should be mandatory while exerting your body to unprecedented levels of exercise.
I've found that if you neglect to do certain things, you eventually forget about them, and it is only a small memory of yesteryear or a reminder that makes you realize that one does need to act. Of this, I feel sometimes I need a personal organizer or to remember that laziness is still one of my stronger traits.
Acting on impulse, I drove home only to remember that an old basketball mate, Steve, was playing tonight at my local basketball stadium, where I spent a good 10+ years organizing friends to play basketball. As I come and go in their lives I have seen them get married, have numerous children, become a support to their ear and a friend which has been a privilege.
On coming home Steve's wife had already sent me an email (fate one would say?) reminding me of the starting time he was playing tonight. Feeling this to be a good sign to pull on some jeans and head on down to the courts to watch some old school community basketball.
As I walked into the courts I was greeted with the familiar smell of sweat and squeaking of rubber soles, along with the beeps and buzzes which came from the rickety scoreboard that each team member helped man on the sides of the courts. I smiled seeing kids I used to play against now grown men, and older men I used to size up still playing along and looking still as mean, although wearing the occasional strap or support on a joint.
I forgot about the joy I got from walking into this place and the value it has placed in my life along with the random connections of not only my basketball friends but other friends who have trodden the floors to a different kind of beat. My introduction to the rave scene (Al to click here) was in this place at 4am returning home on New Years Day circa 1996 - later finding out in life that some of people dancing were experiencing the same thing and have now become life long friends (even though finding out Dyewitness never actually played there that night - it still opened my eyes up).
Ray was still behind the counter met me with a smile and a
"You're back? Who you playing with?" and my reply with a smile and a shake of the head "I'm here to see Steve actually."
Finding out from her he was playing on court 2 and remembering at the same time that her real name was Lily and she hated people calling her that. I'll tease her late.
As I trundled over getting the occasional pat on the back and smile from people I have not seen for near well over 7 years brought a beaming smile back at them. With a customary slap of the hand or touch of fist, which I always felt very uncool doing and seemed to usually miss or manage to screw up somehow, it felt like old times again. Yet I had hit my thirties and have piled on a solid 15 more kilos and felt as mobile as the Energizer bunny's Grey counterparts.
Seeing Steve and finding out all the gossip made me smile, and even made me want to shoot hoops again. I felt nervous as the orange globe now looked foreign. Sinking the first bucket made me realize that I still had a gram left of grace, shortly lived when Steve was saying 'I bet you can still dunk it too.' Only to have me miss the ring completed and sail underneath the backboard with my calves burning in the pain.
"We're short a man."
"Some things never change." I reply to Steve, knowing that it became a regular occurrence in community basketball competitions.
"Here's some shorts.. lets get you geared up."
"You what...." my outcry and surprise that the next 40 minutes would have me running, of which I also have not done for well over two years, outside of intoxication.
The next 40 minutes was one of the most painful discoveries to my body. The shoes I'm wearing are at no time appropriate or helpful and muscles forgotten about were dancing the joy of spasm. We won though, I scored zip however as per usual guarded the key like a viking warrior and actually rebounded most of the game (Hurray me!). Please note that running the full length of the court was very infrequent.
I'm now registered and in a team and set to play next Wednesday. Although my body is not overly impressed with this rash decision. I was grateful though, as many people know that I have only the height which helped me exert defence in basketball. The remainder I needed most of all in basketball (mainly bouncing the ball in a co-ordinated manner) lacked.
Visiting places and seeing old friends is not a burden as it seems. Encountering the bizarre chain of events that may happen while doing so is all part of the process. Although it seemed like a spur of the moment thing to do - it reminded me how privileged I have been.
As Steve put it too me and I wholeheartedly agreed with him as I stood outside his house.
'....we're all lucky to be here and sometimes people just don't see it, like when they're at work complaining about [trivial] things. I try and remind them....'
As he said this - it blew a chord with my mentality of late. As I listened to what I have missed out in his life and family it made me humble and appreciate that the old friends and scenes should always be remembered and that stretching should be mandatory while exerting your body to unprecedented levels of exercise.
LS at 5/14/2008 11:21:00 PM
0 comments
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Wednesday, March 12, 2008
The room, the sun and the sky
-----------------------------------
It’s the look in the eye which you catch and moments later the small rise of a smile from the crevasse of the lips. It’s the music which plays in your head and the people around that remain out of focus.
Does time stop or does your heart?
You both look away as you realize you are now staring and the eyes are drawn back to each other, the smiles increase. Wiping dew from one palm which has suddenly formed as you glance to the floor smiling and once again refocus. Your friends around you become uninteresting and inaudible.
Is it lightning that has just struck or the four leaf clover you picked up as a child?
The moment cannot be lost, the distance traveled looks to be a mile and hopefully without a hurdle to trip you up. The cotton in your mouth is quickly washed away and you suddenly realize that you are now standing in front of each other. Slight nods of acknowledgment to each other as you sway together with the music which works its hopeful infinite pattern.
Do we need words to destroy this instance or remain lost with each other for a little longer?
The attraction is no more of a measure as the realization of something else is now even more powerful between you both. A hand reaches up to touch your elbow followed by a broadening of lips. Connection with skin on skin has made you both inseparable. Equally shackled in your own conscious time with each other.
Is this the moment you’ve been waiting all your life or are we dreaming?
It’s the look in the eye which you catch and moments later the small rise of a smile from the crevasse of the lips. It’s the music which plays in your head and the people around that remain out of focus.
Does time stop or does your heart?
You both look away as you realize you are now staring and the eyes are drawn back to each other, the smiles increase. Wiping dew from one palm which has suddenly formed as you glance to the floor smiling and once again refocus. Your friends around you become uninteresting and inaudible.
Is it lightning that has just struck or the four leaf clover you picked up as a child?
The moment cannot be lost, the distance traveled looks to be a mile and hopefully without a hurdle to trip you up. The cotton in your mouth is quickly washed away and you suddenly realize that you are now standing in front of each other. Slight nods of acknowledgment to each other as you sway together with the music which works its hopeful infinite pattern.
Do we need words to destroy this instance or remain lost with each other for a little longer?
The attraction is no more of a measure as the realization of something else is now even more powerful between you both. A hand reaches up to touch your elbow followed by a broadening of lips. Connection with skin on skin has made you both inseparable. Equally shackled in your own conscious time with each other.
Is this the moment you’ve been waiting all your life or are we dreaming?
LS at 3/12/2008 02:23:00 AM
0 comments
_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Perfecting the Ginga Mo
So I joined up with my mate Goran to undertake Movember. Suffice to say my attempts on growing hair on my face has been at a loss I will endeavour to use growth hormones to help with said result.
If you feel like being charitable then click on the badge and support this very worthy cause - www.movember.com
ps. end result picture will be posted!
If you feel like being charitable then click on the badge and support this very worthy cause - www.movember.com
ps. end result picture will be posted!
LS at 10/25/2007 01:03:00 PM
0 comments
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Friday, September 21, 2007
Darkness
Educate yourself with 70 minutes of worthwhile footage.
Click me -> Loose Change - Part 2
A postscript with my 2 cents. It saddens me to see anything happen to our world and makes me feel less as a human to see individuals destroy things around us day by day.
Whoever is to blame is not the reason, the real question we all should be trying to answer day by day is why and finding the common solution.
We will never know the full story to many stories which face us, because we are unfortunately a majority cannon fodder and not necessary to the grand scheme of things.
I know for certain if I was a god fearing individual and believed in heaven and hell. That the persons responsibility for the atrocities which are committed every day in our lives, while we sit blindfolded in front of the brainwashing machine, will see their final judgment and feel the pain and anguish they have caused for all of the seconds within their eternity of which their heartless soul will exist.
Unfortunately I'm a realist and my eyes just fill with tears.
Click me -> Loose Change - Part 2
A postscript with my 2 cents. It saddens me to see anything happen to our world and makes me feel less as a human to see individuals destroy things around us day by day.
Whoever is to blame is not the reason, the real question we all should be trying to answer day by day is why and finding the common solution.
We will never know the full story to many stories which face us, because we are unfortunately a majority cannon fodder and not necessary to the grand scheme of things.
I know for certain if I was a god fearing individual and believed in heaven and hell. That the persons responsibility for the atrocities which are committed every day in our lives, while we sit blindfolded in front of the brainwashing machine, will see their final judgment and feel the pain and anguish they have caused for all of the seconds within their eternity of which their heartless soul will exist.
Unfortunately I'm a realist and my eyes just fill with tears.
LS at 9/21/2007 02:06:00 AM
0 comments
_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`^-<.,_,.>-^`
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Another return to Minto
South West Sydney mmmmm ... My Mum and Dad had a plot of land when we use to live in Merrylands until I was about 10. Then they decided to build on it in 1988... little did I know what Minto (Minno) was like.
Growing up and attending Sarah Redfern it was an eye opener to see government housing projects left forgotten and the word 'pension' was what I thought old people used. I quickly found out not to talk back to certain people in my class or I'd receive some sort of bloody face, so my choice of friends were wise and somewhat neutral.
Traveling into Minno Mall and learning the streets on a bike when I was young made me appreciate many things, that I had got a little easier when my Mum and Dad worked.
Hitting the late teens and getting into under age clubs - such as Cheers and Chevy's was easy then, bouncers didn't blink an eye too much if you had someone else's ID who looked completed different. Ending up drunk of Southo or Jimmy was way too regular occurrence and the police were lax but terse when you stepped out of line.
I moved over to London eventually when I was 24 and just recently returned. They've torned down most of the govt housing, relocated families and built middle class housing around the now hardly used Minto Mal (KMART has even packed up and left)l. I remember walking passed the BMX track, acres of scrub where I learnt how to fire a slingshot and corner shops near the train station which never seem to open, even the old graffiti seems to be losing its color on the armor guard sidings. They've put an over-pass over all the rail lines and the distant dinging of bells is all a somewhat dream you once heard as the freight train steamed through at 2am each morning to remind you where you were. Shopping trolley graveyards are somewhat a memory also since the stores decided to make magnetic locks on the wheels.
Minto was a place to be growing up in the 90's. The echo of 'Push Minno' was familiar at league games and school sports, I discovered traditional Koori ways which I'm sure would never have got the chance in any other suburb and my respect is far greater then some stigma attach cultures in Sydney, many people who I thought would not have made it after high school have proved me wrong (the lower bell curve of the HSC results my ass).
I resorted to forgetting Minno between 20-24 when I moved out of home to Northern Sydney and to tell you the truth, nothing happened when you walked along the street up there.
In Minto when I was young I remember seeing an old man pick up cigarette butts at the bus stop every day while I was going to school, Single mothers, bare foot, pregnant again and pushing prams in Lycra was somewhat a usual sight. People didn't really care too much, except about the price of cigarettes going up again.
Nowadays coming back from London - I love being out here, it's just a pain to get into the city - which I easily forget about when I start driving in there.
Today's Minto is a suburbia - I miss the old Minno pride - but I relish the fact when I walk passed someone who I haven't seen in a long time. The one thing remained and made me smile. Since I was 11 I walked down the hill and passed a rival primary school to Sarah Redfern, I passed a lady who was the Lollypop Lady. Seeing her 20 years returning from London, greyer but still the same pink tracksuit made me smile from ear to ear - this time I stopped to say hello and told her my little story of passing her every day - I think I gave some of my youth to her that day.
To Minno!
Growing up and attending Sarah Redfern it was an eye opener to see government housing projects left forgotten and the word 'pension' was what I thought old people used. I quickly found out not to talk back to certain people in my class or I'd receive some sort of bloody face, so my choice of friends were wise and somewhat neutral.
Traveling into Minno Mall and learning the streets on a bike when I was young made me appreciate many things, that I had got a little easier when my Mum and Dad worked.
Hitting the late teens and getting into under age clubs - such as Cheers and Chevy's was easy then, bouncers didn't blink an eye too much if you had someone else's ID who looked completed different. Ending up drunk of Southo or Jimmy was way too regular occurrence and the police were lax but terse when you stepped out of line.
I moved over to London eventually when I was 24 and just recently returned. They've torned down most of the govt housing, relocated families and built middle class housing around the now hardly used Minto Mal (KMART has even packed up and left)l. I remember walking passed the BMX track, acres of scrub where I learnt how to fire a slingshot and corner shops near the train station which never seem to open, even the old graffiti seems to be losing its color on the armor guard sidings. They've put an over-pass over all the rail lines and the distant dinging of bells is all a somewhat dream you once heard as the freight train steamed through at 2am each morning to remind you where you were. Shopping trolley graveyards are somewhat a memory also since the stores decided to make magnetic locks on the wheels.
Minto was a place to be growing up in the 90's. The echo of 'Push Minno' was familiar at league games and school sports, I discovered traditional Koori ways which I'm sure would never have got the chance in any other suburb and my respect is far greater then some stigma attach cultures in Sydney, many people who I thought would not have made it after high school have proved me wrong (the lower bell curve of the HSC results my ass).
I resorted to forgetting Minno between 20-24 when I moved out of home to Northern Sydney and to tell you the truth, nothing happened when you walked along the street up there.
In Minto when I was young I remember seeing an old man pick up cigarette butts at the bus stop every day while I was going to school, Single mothers, bare foot, pregnant again and pushing prams in Lycra was somewhat a usual sight. People didn't really care too much, except about the price of cigarettes going up again.
Nowadays coming back from London - I love being out here, it's just a pain to get into the city - which I easily forget about when I start driving in there.
Today's Minto is a suburbia - I miss the old Minno pride - but I relish the fact when I walk passed someone who I haven't seen in a long time. The one thing remained and made me smile. Since I was 11 I walked down the hill and passed a rival primary school to Sarah Redfern, I passed a lady who was the Lollypop Lady. Seeing her 20 years returning from London, greyer but still the same pink tracksuit made me smile from ear to ear - this time I stopped to say hello and told her my little story of passing her every day - I think I gave some of my youth to her that day.
To Minno!
LS at 8/14/2007 09:38:00 PM
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