Friday, March 27, 2009

James VS The Recession II

After the Trouble I had with The Recession late last year, the outlook for 2009 was looking grim. I retreated to the coast mid-January and jumped off some rocks into water a few times - returning invigorated and inspired.

Sydney was all of a sudden a different place; the city opened up to me. I no longer felt conscious of my own body (like when you have an ear infection). I went for a stroll around Crown St and soaked in the atmosphere. This is what I saw and felt.

Billy Kwong's, Crown St:
A group of people were waiting in line for the 6:30PM sitting. They were mostly a bit older than I, and in spite of their relaxed discussion about fused dinners, you could tell that The Recession was lurking somewhere around the middle of their minds:
'I got tickets to The Presets AND season passes to the Swannies!' Said one.
'I hear The Presets are spectacular live.' Said another. This was greeted by a series of solemn nods and mentions that both members were trained at 'the con.'

I paused to do up my shoelace. Oh no! It wasn't today, it was summer (I was wearing thongs). Instead of standing up again, I remained crouching and updated Twitter from my phone. I will never, ever understand why I did this. The conversation outside Billy Kwong's continued.

The main man in the conversation had a shaved head and Barcelona chairs in his heart - which was easily visible from the sleeve of his flanellette shirt. His pre-dinner conversation managed to extend beyond his immediate, incorporating almost all of the waiting diners.

'... It was the strangest thing.' Said a peripheral lady. 'On the way here we saw the word "UPROCK" written in plastic cups on a fence.'
'It's called Cuprocking.' Said the Main Man. 'It's done by a guy from around here. It's pretty cool, huh?'
'Yeah, it's really expressive. And fun!'
'It's a far more efficient way to "bomb a public space," than with spray cans. It's very guerilla.'
'Oh wow, it sounds like it. I don't know very much about street art - working in accounting and all -'

The group suddenly went silent and stared at the ground as several young residents of the Oasis shelter - some of the best real estate in Surry Hills - walked past. The Main Man shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and pulled out his iPhone to make sure he hadn't been outbid on one of those knife blocks that look like the knives are stabbing the contemporary stick figure man.

I could feel the awkardness. You know, with them not knowing each other too well, homeless junky kids walking past and me crouching several metres away just typing their conversation into my phone. It was understandable. I decided to diffuse the situation by talking to them, like I had been part of the conversation  all along. I stood up and took a step towards the Main Man.

'Woah! Those homeless kids are so ugly!'
He looked up from his iPhone. 'Sorry?'
'It was probably lucky they walked past when they did though.' I said. 'I mean, like before you referred to Andy Uprock as one of the main "Cats in the scene" to this lady.' I tried to wink at the lady, but ended up just rapidly blinking (don't know how to wink).
'What are you talking about?'
'Do you also Get performance art?'
'What do you mean?' 
'You know when someone decides to stop going to their job and relating to people? Performance art is what happens when that person wears black slacks and is in a room when Clover Moore is making a speech. THAT, is what I mean.'
He looked at me horrified. 'Who are you?'
I extended my hand. 'Here's my card.'

It read:

James Ross-Edwards.



---
EXTRA UPDATE:
So I'm starting a thing where I interview someone each week about the weather, and what they like/don't like about it. My first interview was with myself, taken last week...

James: Do you like the weather we have been having lately?
James: Maybe not the rain, but I do generally like Autumn.
James: They call it Fall in -
James: I know.
James: Describe what you like the most about Autumn.
James: Yummy blue skies, washed out earthy shades, Pimms and Lemonade while Beirut plays in the background.
James: Wow, that sounds okay.
James: I don't know what Beirut is.
James: It's just a word people say if they are not threatening anyone at all and it is 2007.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

James VS The Recession

I once got paid $100 to deliver Christmas hampers around an office building. It was organised by a friend of my Mum's. It was a good deal - it only took a few hours, and at the end everyone got pizza and soft drink. They even told me I could maybe do it again some time.

I reapplied for this job last week only to be rejected. You guess it, The Recession had struck again. They were nice about it, using buzz words like 'seasonal' and 'one-off' to make me feel better. The Recession seems to be placing me on a pedestal (a pedestal that does not allow me to get short-term casual work).

Another example. In late 2001 I made nearly $2000 (about $250,000 today) by selling charity chocolates. Brad helped. I ordered 100 massive boxes of them to my house on behalf of my school, and sold them under the guise of raising money for a school football trip that I was 99% sure would be cancelled (it was).

I tried to recreate this business model in November 2008, sans Brad. I started at Macquarie Bank HQ in the city. This will be great, I remember thinking at the time. Surely The Recession won't bother me in this place. I wandered into the Bond St building feeling confident, $96 RRP of Maltesers in one hand, and equal value in Bounty/Snickers/Mars in the other. If I got rid of those boxes this afternoon, I'd be around $66 in black. 'Electric feel!' I said (a popular expression for excitement at the time).

I wandered in the Bond St entrance and waited for someone to get in the lift, so I could hitch a ride on their security pass. It wasn't long before several of the bank's finest arrived back from lunch at Ryan's Bar. They were all male, over 6 feet and mostly had attended the same private school as I had. This proved a good ice breaker - as I not only fit the above description, but additionally was dressed from head-to-toe in my former school uniform - the most suitable attire I owned.

Before I could start giving my chocolate spiel, the group of us spontaneously erupted into a loud version of 'Sex on Fire' (we didn't have another song we all knew). O the might with which we sang! O the force with which our huddle of bodies was held together - I was anything I wished. I was a Latin phrase at the bottom of a crest, I was an Aboriginal child on a sporting scholarship. I was staring down on Regular Joes and Janes with contempt. In that moment I was Recession Proof. 

Once the sing-along was complete, I was ushered into the lift with a series of backslaps and hugs.
'So what floor are you guys going too?' I said.
'We're all going to a meeting on the 10th. Do you want to come?'
'Yes.'

I followed them out of the lift, and across the corridor of the 10th floor into a meeting room. Two men with enormous head decorations were at the table. It was The Presets.

'KIM, Julian, this man in a school uniform is our friend. He is here to sell us all chocolate for a rugby tour.'
'Silence!' Said The Presets. Several of the men began to shake with fear. 'I don't see any chocolates.'
'I, uh.' I'd somehow lost the chocolates in all the singing and hugging in the lobby. 'I am sorry. I lost them.'

ENDLOGUE
* I returned home, chocolate-less and with a ripped school blazer.
* Several weeks later The Presets played a reportedly amazing show at the Macquarie Bank's Christmas party.
* The Recession continued its progress unabated. It is believed to be currently based out of the empty space at Muscles Music Blog.

Monday, March 02, 2009

Funny/Not Funny

Funny things don't happen to me anymore - this is probably why I haven't been posting so much on this blog. These days just normal stuff happens, basically always. Did you know that over 80% of the funny things I write about never actually happened?

Like that time I wrote about the 70 year old Aboriginal guy who had overdosed on heroin and still managed to escape from RPA and the Police? That wasn't actually me doing those things, I just heard it on the Police scanner at my Old Job.

And like how I once implied that some fellows that Frank Sartor played footy with were dicks because they had suffered some pretty horrible abuse in the past? That isn't true, I've never met them, it was just a guess.

See, nothing funny ever happens in real life - I just made you think it did with my clever writing. If I had had this blog in The Day, there would have had some extremely funny things to write about. 

For example, there was this one day in high school where an argument in recess ended in an agreement to have an informal debate at lunch, exchanging insult for insult. It was me and Will versus Dean and Phil. I didn't back myself impromptu, in the traditional 'yo mama' way of the creoles, so I wrote about 10 pages of notes in my school diary, reserving some extra harsh things in case.

I was a little nervous, being the underdog side, and received some pretty heavy blows early on: 'you have the same haircut as your mum,' a particular one I recall. I was quick to bite back however, drawing first blood:

'Dean pretended he was drunk at Camille Mortlock's party in the Christmas holidays between year 9 and year 10 and he punched a car and broke his hand! And he was wearing a full matching Champion tracksuit!'

I can't remember much more of the abuse I suffered or dished out, perhaps I have blocked out all the harsh things that were said in front of a playground full of people. But everyone laughed, so it must have been funny. Not like today - today is boring.