travel down to the ego repair shop this morning, it's in erskineville a suburb i used to live in many moons ago. erko was a rough kinda place, filled with punks and goths, lesbian bikers and alternative types looking for rebellion, i made of point of wearing brightly coloured hawaiian shirts in those days, i looked like a californian tripped out surfer dude in my strange psychedelic glasses walking into crowded dark bars and drinking sparkling water. today erko is a little heaven nested away from newtowns main road, kings street, it's got that aura of respectability with it's trendy coffee shops, gourmet food, nice little boutique clothing places and a couple of pubs that have been refurbished, very different from how i recall them. but i step through erko's main street on a mission, i seek the not well known 'ego repair shop' which sometimes presents itself as a florist but today it is a second hand trinket shop filled with various obscure wonders from the steampunk novel i never wrote. 
i wander in and immediately the old chap behind the counter puts down his tools, 'mission, it's been a long time.'
'yes yes indeed, you look very well sir.'
'ah well it's my new diet of nocotine.'
'nocotine, what's that?'
'i gave up smoking.'
i laugh, he laughs then he asks all seriously peering out through his john lennon glasses, 'well i know you wouldn't be here unless it was important, what can we do for you today?'
'well it's my ego sir. as you know it's been destroyed a fair few times, and each time it comes back it's slightly different and i've done a lot of work to obliterate it but the one that's here now is really depressing me.'
'depressing you hey mission.'
'yeah it's all wise and all knowing, it's aloof and lacks compassion, it's out of space and time, it's just floating through life, detached and making stupid little notes and observations which it forgets a few minites later, it sits in long quiet silences and don't seem to really even care that it will die one day. but the worst thing about it is it's alienating people, everyone seems to think i'm something i am not.'
'well, what do you think?'
'i'd like a new one, this one is faulty, i have had some really good ones in my time but this feels very awkward, i don't know it's uncomfortable.'
'you can leave it here if you want, pick it up in about an hour.'
i hand it over, 'thanks i appreciate it.'
i grab the ticket from him and wander back into the erko high street, wow, it's so nice out here, i stop and smell the flowers. i grab a latte, read the papers, smile at some people walking past with dogs. an hour passes. i go back to the ego repair shop and find it's not there, instead there is a post office. i wander in but there's no sign of the ego repair man, and it appears to be a regular post office.
later when i walk up the high street towards the train station i pull out the ticket, i unfold it as i walk and read the small print, 'no method, no guru, no ego.'
i start to wonder what that means and then i let it go.