sat'dee arvo, i was shopping in smith street for tracksuit pants. yeah, i know. weird.
smith st, when i first lived in fitzroy, was junkie heaven. the only people wearing tracksuit pants were the same ones who 'really need five bucks for food.' it sucked, but you'd watch as they got cash off someone and walk the two metres to the closest dealer for their next hit. the most disgusting displays were where you'd see some junkie parent totally ignore the hungry cries of their children for a little balloon full of horse.
anyway, the police muscled in, and now the heroin trade happily progresses in the undercover areas of council flats in fitzroy, northcote and collingwood - right next to kids' playgrounds, and clearly fucking up the lives of clean, but poor, residents in these blocks. all for the sake of latte-drinking vegan enviro wannabes and pretentious fitzroyalty like i (used to) be.
ain't life grand.
i digress. i was shopping for gym clothes, cos i've promised my best friend GGB that i'd buy him and myself an outfit or two so we can train together when i head back to sin city. knowing that he would never want to be seen in public slightly unkempt, this is no easy task - and the cost of cute sweatware being what it is, i had to head to the factory outlets down the end of smith st.
on my way between a bonds outlet (two pairs of trackies for bads33d, none for GGB) and the adidas outlet, i bumped into an ex-housemate of mine, the fabulous Miss M. Miss M was having a lazy luncheon, and i joined her for a round of discussion around her masters thesis topic.
Discussing sado-masochism, deleuzian bodies without organs, and kathy acker is all fun and games, and it rammed home to me that i really miss the research and learning aspect of humanities study. i want to do my phd quicker!
anyway, sex and the city is on in a minute. this discussion must continue.