Prime Mover

It’s been ages, abso-fuckin-lutely ages, since I’ve updated the blog. Thought no one cared, but it appears this blog is more popular than I think. And so, by popular demand, it’s back. (Allow me to inflate my ego just this once. I’m sure you won’t mind.)

A lot has happened since the last post. I usually have a pretty good idea of what I’m going to write about when I start a post, but not this time. Though I have much to say, I’m feeling a bit lost as to where to begin. Think I’ve gone a bit rusty with this whole post thing. So I’ve just decided to let my fingers do the talking, and type whatever they feel like. (Thank heavens for Autocorrect and Spellcheck, otherwise you’d have been reading 2 paragraphs of something like – Jsdg;ujb fkjabgkju aksjbgu agorjwe9g dflkn fflsbngl sfgnsglok 39ngkspsmsgnslonvf albawfb. Afolbnsgih aflnbaioangag!! Sglbsgj. No yhat t df;k…)

Ok, to begin with, I’ve moved house. I used to stay in a share-house with 3 other people, and Booboo the world-famous rabbit. (More on this in previous posts, such as Sunday). The place was really nice and I had a nice room, but the housemates I got along with really well moved out one by one. So I was left in a sticky situation with my name on the lease and some less-than-desirable housemates, and a rabbit. In the words of Snagglepuss, “Exit, hopin’ for the best, stage left even…” And that is exactly what I did.

I lived in this share-house with the intention of meeting new people (and not just Indians), expanding my horizons, and experiencing the Aussie culture. For a year and a half, it was awesome. I met new people from all over the place, and the horizons were sufficiently expanded. The Aussie culture, I have since learnt, is drinking lots of beer and bunging meat on a barbie and eating it. It’s a brilliant way to pass an afternoon. You should try it.

Anyhoo, now I’ve moved in with 2 other Indian boys to an apartment a few streets away from the old place. Still settling in, but the new place will hopefully turn into the party pad of the decade!! Hah! Have to wait and see.

Here’s a funny story. When I first went to inspect the place, I didn’t notice it, but my housemate pointed it out later, after we’d already taken the apartment. The front door had “U SUCK” in big letters. It had been painted over, which is why I didn’t notice, but it was still quite visible. Now that we know it’s there, we can’t escape it. I see it everyday when I come back from work. An inescapable reminder of, ahem, the previous tenant’s suckiness. I can assure you that we DO NOT suck! I believe the landlord is going to give it another coat of paint.

I live in this mother-posh neighbourhood called Toorak. It’s probably the richest neighbourhood in Melbourne. This means the rent costs me an arm and a leg. (I’m quite used to the crutches now, but wiping my ass is still a rather strange and painful experience.) Sorry, that was in really bad taste. People sometime ask me why I want to live in Toorak, especially some of the Indian cab drivers I meet. Good question, especially when I’m not filthy-stinking-rich. I could never really give them a proper answer, just something half-assed like, "Oh, it’s close to the city”, or “It’s a really nice neighbourhood” and all that.

But the other day I realised why. It was a Saturday morning. I strolled down to one of the numerous cafes down the street for a good coffee. I sat down with my coffee, and watched the world of Toorak pass by. The flashy Jags, Mercs, Beemers, the Ferraris and Maseratis, the rich retired old folk tottering by in their expensive clothes giving me dirty looks, the rich ladies stepping out of the local clinic with fresh injections of Botox, with the token Chihuahua or poodle, giving me dirty looks, the rich young crowd of people dressed in the latest metrosexual (or whatever) fashion, giving me strange looks, all of them wondering what the hell this bald Indian guy with the dirty Queensryche T-shirt is doing in their neighbourhood. And it just made me grin like an idiot.

The reason I stay in Toorak is this. I can explain it very succinctly in Tamil. I believe the term is ‘koodhi-nakkal’. And it feels pretty damn good!