the super straight corporate guy rang me this morning to ask if i wanted to go to the blue mountains with him in his new $80000 bmw 4wd. i said i couldn't as i was thinking about going to bondi markets, unfortunately super straight corp guy decided he wanted to tag along, and seeing as though he volunteered to drive i thought what the hell, but it was a deal with the devil, cos being stuck all day with super straight corporate guy is like being enslaved, he's a total control freak, the worst form of capitalist and has a sense of humor on par with an axolotl. Super corp guy is rich in material wealth and bankrupt in personality, but my stupid sense of feeling sorrowful for him over-rode and i agreed.
we stop at the luxurious chocolate shop so i can buy some chocolate for my infamous 'hash coco cubes' which i am going to make this week, then we wander down amongst the mydrid of foreigners, scandinavian backpackers, english soccer people, some americans, the islanders and moaris, brazilian girls with tattooed legs, we walk into a cd shop and the sound of some dumb techno song does my head in, i can feel my aura leaking and my skull cracking, and scg wants to go shopping for an old Seal CD.
'Captain, What's the name of his album?'
'Err the canadian release is called, Clubbed to Death.'
I have to wait outside, it's loud and horrendous.
Later he gnaws upon some dead meat rolled up in kebab, it's making me feel sick, i nibble on a blueberry yoghurt thingy.

At the markets, i wander aimlessly, looking at everything, chatting to some folk, i buy a book on Francis of Assissi and a peaked cap/hat, but it's the girl selling the albert einstien t shirts that captures my heart momentarily.

we chat for a whle, i tell her how i like the designs, and how i am a fussy t shirt wearer, and how i always cut sleeves off, she says i look cool, at which point i melt and can't think of anything witty to say so in the awkward moment, i jump down the time line where we just walk off into the sunset together.

later i watch the surf, beach closed, it's big and pounding, no one out in that, no one except one lone surfer who struggles in the wash. we drive home listening to seal, i ask if we can listen to something else but scg says no. i ask if we can turn off the air con, but scg says no, i ask if i can roll down the window, but scg says no, i close my eyes and wonder what steve kilbey was doing today and if he was at the markets, only to find later from his blog he was.