Qantas Jet, flying home

I've only got this long left in Australia:
DHMS
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Feb 26
1:43 pm

Love Me, Mooroolbark

It’s really not so bad. Seems that way while I’m not out there doing it anyways. While I am doing it, it’s one of the hardest, most personally testing things I’ve ever attempted. And I’m not doing it for the money — despite the fact that everyone else is.

I work as a salesman. Let me explain: I just started, three days ago. We drive in a big van for about forty minutes to a suburb named Mooroolbark. Then we each get a piece of turf. The “reps” who’ve been there awhile, who have themselves together, don’t need a very big piece. They’ve got the experience to talk themselves into people’s confidences. Reps like me who are just finding the courage to knock on a stranger’s door don’t have as much luck. We don’t know how to create our own yet. I’ve made one sale, though it could have been a fluke.

And no, for goodnessake — I’m not selling vacuum cleaners or magazine subscriptions or those new-fangled cellular phones. We sell electricity. Clean, green, renewable electricity to help the environment and build sustainable energy sources, blah blah, etc. I’ll spare you the greenness of my pitch. It’s enough to know that I’m not very good at this but I’d like to be.

But why? Well, the benefits are pretty good: free beer, working outdoors, self-supervison, and interesting people to work with. The money sure is good. I make three sales a day, I get $600 a week. Five sales a day, $1000 a week. It keeps going up. But I already said I’m not doing it for money. I’m doing it cause I want to learn. These salespeople I’ve been dealing with… they really know how to deal with people. They have to. And they’re incredible at it. Any comment, any situation, they have a response to turn it to their favor and it doesn’t even seem like it. They control themselves without having to control others. That’s what I want. I want to go anywhere and be able to talk to anyone.

Think of it this way: it’s the same as kissing the Blarney Stone. The Blarney Stone is a very old, fairly unsanitized chunk of Blarney castle in Ireland. People are kissing it all day long every day. The common belief is, when you finally get up the courage to kiss this thoroughly spit-shined medieval heirloom, you’ll be blessed by this “stone of eloquence” with the gift of gab.

“There is a stone that whoever kisses,
Oh! he never misses to grow eloquent
‘Tis he may clamber to a lady’s chamber,
Or become a member of parliament.”

 -Francis Sylvester Mahony

I’m here right now. Ireland’s pretty far away.

 
Feb 18
2:14 pm

Is It Over Yet?

Whereas there are fates above who favor the determined, but abhor the presumptuous, I announce I could have both a job and an apartment. It could also be that I have an active fantasy life. Neither is perfect. Or are they too perfect? Let me back up…

Yesterday I went to a group job interview with a door-to-door marketing company. Me and the other prospects would be convincing the multitude of Melbourne to stay with the energy company they already have, and to sign up for clean green electricity—wind, water, biomass. They would pay less for this electricity and also receive a discount card that saves them money on things like groceries. This marketing is all on virgin territory, that is, no one has marketed this offer yet. The pay is a weekly retainer starting at $300, plus an added retainer for how many sign up, plus commissions. Five customers a day times five days works out to $1000 a week. This income isn’t taxed, as you are working as a “consultant” instead of an employee. Uniforms are provided. Work begins at noon.

So, sounds pretty good to me. There doesn’t seem to be a catch… and the money’s definately good. It is a ways from the CBD, out in Richmond. I’d need to catch a particular tram every day to get there. This number 70 tram happens to go right past 280 Spencer Street, where I inspected a studio on wednesday. It’s in a recent building with parque floors, lots of modern touches, a balcony, seperate bathroom, and a damned decent view. In other words: it’s presentable. This is going for $250 a week, which now seems quite feasible.

Some pictures of a one-bedroom:

Things seem to be lining up nicely. So it would seem. But I’m a nitpicker by nature, and therefore…. Spencer street is on the opposite side of where I wanted to be in the CBD, and the high-paying job in Richmond is too far to commute by public transit every (late) morning. Not to mention the apartment isn’t furnished, and I’d probably have to pay all utilities. Does that mean I’m not gonna take the job, and ditch the apartment? Hell no. I am so tired of looking, my next application was going to go to 7-11.

Did you know they have 7-11′s here? Yeah, all over the place…

 

Dérive, Melbourne Photos

One of my favorite concepts to explore, especially while travelling, is dérive. It’s the idea that you can experience a place better exploring it by whim, impulse, and curiousity. It’s urban zen.  

Sadie Plant, the situationist, wrote:

“to dérive was to notice the way in which certain areas, streets, or buildings resonate with states of mind, inclinations, and desires, and to seek out reasons for movement other than those for which an environment was designed. It was very much a matter of using an environment for one’s own ends, seeking not only the marvellous beloved by surrealism but bringing an inverted perspective to bear on the entirety of the spectacular world.”

I was taught this fascinating concept by a very personally influential individual: Aaron Ximm. He goes by the alias Quiet American, and his hobby is listening to things. Check the notes of “Circumlocution” on (one of my favorite ambient albums) Vox Americana to understand his unique approach.

My approach, since my beloved bionic microphones are out of service, has been to wander the city armed with a fickle but lucky camera. Now I am not a photographer—but I do watch carefully. And I’ve got a Flickr pro account. That, my experience has been, is enough to compensate.
 
Feb 12
4:28 pm

Melbourne’s Dead, Long Live Melbourne

Today is slow day. Melbourne seemed so dead last week for a very good reason: Sunday’s the day the city sleeps it off. Trams stop running, businesses are closed, and the streets are empty. Remember in the movie “Vanilla Sky” with Tom Cruise, how all of Times Square was empty? Or in “Honey I Blew Up The Kid” when Las Vegas turned off all its lights? Remember what feats these were for the movie-makers? Suffice to say in Melbourne it wouldn’t be much of a to-do.

And the thing is, I’m quite alright with that fact. I’m really starting to like this place. I like the good cheap food, the availability of public transport, the shops tucked in every possible niche. I like walking down a street I’ve been down a half dozen times before and still discovering things. I could visit a new bar every day for a month and still be unfamiliar with the place. Of course much of this has to do with the very nature of a big city, granted. That kind of living is attractive to youth. I’m still looking to get a place in the Central Business District because, well… it’s so central. I am the young.

Temporarily though, I’ve called off my searches. As with the rest of the city today is my day off. Maybe I’ll take some pictures like certain people keep asking me to—you know who you are. Maybe I’ll just lounge around all day writing emails. I don’t really know. But I know I’ll be sticking around here for awhile.

 
Feb 11
1:50 am

The Game of World Domination

We all like to think we are exciting, dynamic individuals. We like to think there are those who envy our lives. I’ve just finished playing a game of Risk with a Frenchman, a Irisher, and a cockney English bloke who kept mocking the French empire over our shoulders. Am I the master of my destiny, the captain of my soul?

I’d like to think so. I made some new acquaintences — Oscar, another Englishmen, Mika, a friendly soft-spoken Japanese girl (is there any other kind?), Kai, the Irisher… But then again I missed out on free champagne across the street, at the trendy dive bar. That’s a loss. However, I did get into the free sherry in the yellow bin. The yellow bin is the free bin you know.

So I spent my Friday evening hanging out with a buncha guys playing a game which normally occupies those whose voices haven’t yet dropped. So what? I had fun. Would I have done it again? Hell no. There are about a thousand things more interesting than Risk here, and that’s just off the top of my head.

 
Feb 9
4:21 pm

Rainy Day Phonechild

Only a moment to spare:

I went to great lengths today, out in the fickle yet fierce rain of rainy Melbourne, to finally purchase a phone. I can see your eyes glazing over now… you can finally talk to Billy again .Or Bob. Or Orin. Yes, I can foresee the uninteded 3 am wakeup calls, the interrupted interviews, and I won’t mind a bit. It’ll be fun. Fun? Yes. There’s a peculiar rule in the Australian celular schema — you call me, you pay. I answer, you still pay. Even from overseas. HA. Hope you guys have good jobs. With no further ado, to dial from “The States” :

(011 61)  4 0511 5350

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