#4 Dee Why to Downtown Bus Trips – A Diary of Stuff that Popped into My Head One Week.

Returning – Wednesday, 4.56p.m., 7 December 2011

Chatty, steamy, humid. Foggy windows and plenty of facial expressions – query, smile, relief. The rain is pretty steady as we head over Sydney Harbour Bridge.

The guy sitting with his arms folded across his chest, next to me, has coffee breath and somehow it’s alerted me to the fact I’m hungry.

Two elderly ladies, each with wavy, grey hair, are amongst the chattiest, hardly turning away from each other, words dripping down the front of them and piling up on their laps. The one closest to me looks like she could be Wallace’s (from Wallace and Gromit) mother – she resembles Wallace. Wallace and Gromit had an episode called “The Wrong Trousers”. Well, I think this lady is starring in her own episode called “The Wrong Shoes”, because her feet are hanging out of her shoes right now. They’re bulging over the sides like lumpy custard that boiled over the rim of a too-small pot.

The tall guy sitting directly opposite me has a bald head shaped like a turtle shell, it’s unusually broad and looks very hard. Even his mouth forms the shape of a turtle’s. He seems completely detached from his surroundings within this rain smothered bus. He’s deep in thought. I reckon if I flopped myself out he wouldn’t even notice.

I’m finding it difficult to write while I’m hungry. People do eat turtles. Flop myself out or eat the turtle? Think I’ll eat the turtle.

Almost there.

I’m hungry.

Thursday is tomorrow. Almost the weekend. My wife, Erin, and I plan to try a local Japanese restaurant where we’ve never eaten at before.

Food. I’m hungry.

We’re new to the Dee Why area. So, in fact, there are lots of restaurants for us to try. To eat at.

I’m hungry.

It’s still raining and I’m still hungry. It continues to rain and I continue to feel hunger.

Hungary is a European country. I’ve been there, it was 1990. I remember eating some wonderful food in Budapest with a Canadian I’d met by chance. Mark was his name. And it still is. Some things never change. We were hungry in Hungary and we ate.

I’m hungry.

This journal I’m writing in is hungry for my thoughts, my perceptions and my words. I feed it.

I’m hungry and I need feeding, too.

Time to finish writing. We approach the bus stop – or it approaches us, depends how you look at it.

I am hungry. I will eat.

#3 Dee Why to Downtown Bus Trips – A Diary of Stuff that Popped into My Head One Week.

Going – Wednesday, 7.16a.m., 7 December 2011

It’s hard getting things in sync, isn’t it? I feel like crap, I’m really tired and my left eye is red and dry again – an ongoing problem since late 2001 when I started a two-and-a-half year period of doing shift work. I’m feeling that it would be very difficult to talk to or interact with anyone right now.

The bus folk this particular morning seem an easy-going and friendly mass, assembled in their right-angled allotments. And the sun is shining like a welcome smile through the bus’s large window panes, warmly settling on my cool corpse. Everything else and everyone is okay but I’m out of sync.

I know how to fix it – just jump ship. Get on board the good-attitude-ship and don’t go down with the bad…and go to bed earlier tonight. I knew that extra hour up last night would screw me.

There’s a guy sitting perfectly upright with his eyes closed and sort of smile. He’s got a tuft of thinning, wispy hair atop his head dyed a tacky, brownish red. I imagine him thinking: “I look good. I like the colour and no one will notice it’s dyed. It was a good idea.”

“Wrong. You don’t look good and I did notice. Bad idea.”

He’s still smiling. He must be supremely confident.

I’m noticing I’m a bit more in sync now. When I feel my sense of humour rising and cheekiness kick in, I become all-powerful. Adults shrink into feeble children and I run rings around them. I’m crowned with confidence. I’ve just never been able to keep this switch on. It’s a loose switch with a mind of its own and turns on and off at whim.

Anyway, it’s not about me it’s about the bus, its trip, its people. Nice trip. Good people. I should just keep it this simple. Leave it at that. Then my day will be good and everyone else will have a good day.

What about the bus? How does it feel? Was it serviced with love and care, properly as it should’ve been? Does it mind all these bumps and jolting stops and starts? Does it mind bearing big, bold posters on its side advertising ridiculously titled movies as it circles the streets of Sydney, like We Bought a Zoo? (I just spotted a turning bus with this poster). I bet it does mind.

Bit of a cheap premise for a movie. Bound to be great though, right? Throw in expensive name actors like Matt Damon and Scarlett Johansson, delight us with cute and interesting animals. Hollywood machinery at work.

Scarlett – does this word mean a small scar? “I don’t have a horrible scar, it’s only a scarlett.”

Go well, bus; see you or one of your siblings again this afternoon on my way home.

#2 Dee Why to Downtown Bus Trips – A Diary of Stuff that Popped into My Head One Week.

Returning - Tuesday, 4.41p.m., 6 December 2011 

About ten minutes into the journey along the route: “Do you stop at Dee Why?” asked a man to the bus driver.

“Yeah”, but only when I get there” I said in my head.

“Yes” our driver responded.

I guess you get tired of having to answer that question all the time.

It’s the same as this morning for the most part. Their silent heads and eyes fixated on the latest gadgets. Although, I see three people reading crumpled newspapers. Well, two and a half people – one guy with a big nose and grey, spiky hair keeps nodding off. Good effort though for trying to read when you’re so tired.  

There’s also a hard, lizard-looking blonde lady with a Russian accent, who – on our slow and jolting departure – launched into a frown-driven, and loud conversation.  She seems the type of person who doesn’t give a shit about anyone else, or what people think of her – exactly the kind of attitude that might have allowed me to be more successful in my own life. I’m sure she’s cold-blooded. Unfortunately, mine is free flowing and quite warm.

They really aren’t a very bright looking lot of travellers. I would’ve expected a happier bunch, I mean they’ve all finished work and are going home right now. You never know, though, do you? Should I interview each person to see what’s going on? To find out what their story is? Sometimes I wish I could.

By the way, the guy with the big nose and grey, spiky hair – the nodder – he’s got thinner lips than John Major. He makes John look like he’s had lip enhancement work done. You know, like those ageing soapie stars that all of a sudden one day have much fuller looking lips.

Funny that I’ve just noticed a teenager wearing a “Giants” baseball cap. It contrasts with three midget looking guys – dressed in Santa outfits – who two minutes ago boarded this rolling brick to a destination unknown to me. Should I interview them?

What was my destination today – Dee Why bus stop, or the above irony? Well, it’s my choice because we all create our own reality.

It’s just good to be home.