The most moving activity, I can regularly entertain, is walking through the streets of Newtown. I find something very secretive about that environ, I feel really comfortable in it. Of all the places in Sydney, it feels most like a warm blanket, even above the homes I've lived in and the places I've visited. The overhanging trees, the old buildings, maybe it reminds me of my early years in Melbourne. The streets are certainly labyrinthine enough to be Victorian.

Of course the other non-trivial factor is the revealing and intimate discussions and activities that have occured in the vicinity. I have managed to find a depth of understanding and empathy while ambling down those streets. Will I experience that elsewhere? Hmmm.

It occured to me the other day that my current living situation is not entirely dissimilar to the early days of the Paper Street Soap Company, a la Fight Club. Here materialism is discouraged. Alternatives to typical careers are flourishing and branching. And the reckless thrill of physical abandon is realised with phenomenal binge drinking.

A small community of clever liberal thinking occupants, disenfranchised with the current western society, politics and globalisation, driven to distraction. Concern about the environment, government, literature, history, music. It is all revealing for me.

Did I mention that I live in a presbytery? Catholic? Not practising.

A particularly scarring moment of my life happened in the first year of Canberra living. Well actually there were two that year, but one thing at a time. A good description of snorks at this time is the young Mexican (read:Victorian). A small boy of 8, relocating for the sixth time. The only real constants in my life had been family and football (I was prone to football fever, even by that stage).

Moving on... this was also the first time that I had paid any attention to the opposite gender. I was madly in juvenile love. With Jennifer. Well, when I realised this I thought I would share it with my family. All of them. At once. At the dinner table in fact. My parents led the charge, and the ensuing ridicule guaranteed that I would never share intimate thoughts/ feelings/ opinions with them again. It was from this time, your honour, that my friends were elevated to the roles of closest confidants. From then onwards, I trusted and depended on them in matters dear to me. Really quite a formative moment.

As it happened, the friends that assumed these positions were typically male. Throughout school, I grew up in an environment that had a clear male majority. During uni I made some female acquaintences that nearly made the cut, but not quite. I trust my mates, it just happens that they are all male. Well, were....

I copped a particularly severe dose of Radiohead unexpectantly last week. I thrive on Radiohead, but Friday was a fairly intense day and I certainly wasn't prepared for Hail to the Thief. This moment has had quite a lasting effect.

Emotionally charged, delicately layered, relative. All of this is what I treasure Radiohead for. I had not braced myself for a Radiohead experience. It felt like a length of timber to the back of the head. A rude sharp shock that needs attention and leaves a bruise that lingers.

I will need to ensure that this does not happen again.

Had a curious visit to the "Gong" on Friday, in order to celebrate the birthday of a new acquaintence. It had been some months, then years since I was in Wollongong last. Athough the skeleton remains the same, much of the flesh was indistinguishable.

Cue the new micro-brewery. Great beer, lively atmosphere, friendly girls. Pleasant change from the Sydney crowd. I had a blast, dancing again. Pretty much oblivious to the whole crowd, the one that steals my breath was not going to be there. I was able to focus purely on the dancing. Pretty intoxicated too. I was tres disappointed to find Chequers refurbished. Now called Klub 53. Not good enough to be Studio 54? It certainly lacks the character of old, it was shut already by 2:00am!

Saturday morning, I was thinking out loud, when I realised that Wollongong is to me like an old pair of slippers. Familiar, comfortable and a little smelly. What then of Sydney? Melbourne? Canberra? Leather Dress? Suede Slip Ons? Nike Runners?What shoe style does your current locale most ressemble?

I am regularly astonished by how hopeless my memory can be. I have had some fairly delicate discussions lately, I know that I have forgotten many important details. Bugger. In an attempt to regather some semblance of a coherent individual, I have taken to writing many things down.

The tome for this task is a spirax notebook, which travels with me constantly. Now commonly referred to my "brain". Included in this tome is a collection of books, music and films that need to make an appearance in my life. Suggestions welcome.

Improving memory will play a part in the novel I am planning for NaNoWriMo. Not sure exactly how to tie that in, it will come to me in due course.

I have been expecting notification this week. Everything is headed to a cliff. I want happiness, for her, for me. I hold back nearly all, protecting me or her? I wonder if it is a courage issue.

Happy New Year all. Well after embracing my recent role as a pinball on a national scale, scooting from Phillip Island to Sydney, I have had a memorable celebration. Many thanks to Lee for organising festivities. All started with a harbour cruise, after an 11 hour drive mind you! Free drinks until 1:00am. A brief snippet from an early conversation;

L:"Did you spill those beers?"
S:"C'mon mate don't be stupid. I don't spill beers"
L:"Where are they then?"
S:"Well what does one normally do with beers?...."

Lovely fireworks on the harbour, really very impressive. One of the best views in Sydney I suggest. And with only about 150-200 guests onboard, the whole event was indeed pleasant. Had spent time conversing with Lee's other guests, and perusing the crowd for any interests. I was specifically looking for attractive and intelligent, a recurring theme for me I guess. Only really one option on board. Strike a conversation, with N it turns out. After some polite small talk it occurs to me that this is not the only recurring theme. I know I ask for some specific qualities, but do they all have to be married? I mean really, that is the third time now. Fucking ridiculous. Attractive, intelligent, English, married.

2:00am, adjourn to a party in Pyrmont. Again with the dancing, hey I had been driving since 5:50am, then drinking from 6:30pm. I am entitled to dance by that stage. Enter Craig from stage left, an older, well dressed individual, clearly gay.

C:"Are you gay?"
S:"No, sorry."
C:"Are you sure?"
S:"Yes, I'm quite sure, thanks for the compliment though."

Lovely fellow really, had quite a few drinks with him by the end. Offered me coke all night though. Then enter Des stage right, clearly gay, well groomed, reasonably intelligent.

D:"Are you gay?"
S:" No sorry."
D:"Are you sure?"
S:"Yes, I'm sure. Some other guy already asked."
D:"Which guy?"

This is the third time I had been asked in December. What gives? I am interested to know if it is my behaviour or conversation that leads to this conclusion. Well, whatever it is it is not helping. Party finishes at 10:15am, I leave looking for open pubs.