I've Lived Everywhere, Man

Bill
Louise
Cath
Dean
Clinton
David
Paul
Kim
Philip
Sally
Kenneth
Mike
Craig
Courtney
Brian
Tanya
Another Mike
Tristram
Person whose name I can't utter without risking a stroke
Kendall
Alecia
Kevin
Greg
Julie-Anne
Adaiha
Brett
Trisha
Richard
Gary
James
Dani
Sarah
Jennifer
Natasha
Skye
Wendy
Karen
Thomas
Another Brian
Meelele
Keilani
Tim
Melinda
Matt
Anneke
.... I think that's everyone, barring my parents and children.

What do these people all have in common? I've lived with all of them. Some of them briefly, some several times; some are life-long friends, others I'd do well to be clear of sharp implements if I ever crossed their paths again. A couple of them owe me money, and perhaps a couple would say the same of me. And lordy, could I tell you a story or two about most of them. All in all, I think this list shows that my domestic experience is, well, broad.

The Good Old Bad Old Days

The bad old days. They were good days. Being a young freaker in Brisbane in the Eighties was both wonderful and frightening, and I'm revisiting the highs and lows courtesy of a book I picked up from the library today: Pig City.


It's hard to describe to people who didn't experience the police state that was Bris Vegas at that time. I didn't have more than close shaves myself, such as being searched on the street for merely looking.... like whatever I was looking like, or being shoved up against a wall and threatened with the watch house for smiling at a plain clothes officer as he checked my ID at The Treasury. I did, however, know of people who had the phone book treatment at Roma Street or the CID building alongside the Gabba. The police were an ever-menacing presence, and ugly, ugly, ugly. I hasten to add that I wasn't particularly up to no good, it's just that as far as the constabulary were concerned, I simply looked it, which was more than enough to attract their unwelcome attention.

I flicked straight to the chapters dealing with the eviction of 4ZZZ from the UQ campus. I'd all but forgotten the morning* I woke to hear the "emergency signal" being broadcast telling of the early morning ousting and calling for all and sundry to rush to the studio to occupy the building. I was living in nearby Toowong at the time, so duly made my way over after a coffee or two. I don't remember a great deal about the day, just being crammed into the tiny basement studio with the most astonishing array of freaks, some just having fun, some deeply committed to seeing wrongs righted, some just deeply and violently disturbed. All screaming for all they were worth at "the fucking pigs". It turns out that John Birmingham was there reporting the whole debacle for Rolling Stone.

It's all a long time ago now, and both Brisbane and I have become more middle class and bland. The Treasury has been turned into a faux-Irish pub, ZZZ has a professional-looking website, police are polite and helpful on occasion, and I live in the 'burbs with two kids and sensible clothing. I'm looking forward to being reminded of a time when we were all a little more colourful. Now excuse me, I'm off to do some reading.

*Probably early afternoon, actually.

Captains Creep-out

We paid a visit to Reverse Garbage on the weekend to pick up a variety of junk for household projects. As I ferreted through the junk Lofty browsed the book pile, and picked up this:


I wasn't sure why it had caught his eye until I looked more closely later:


On the back cover it says: Harvey Cheyne went to sea as a boy and learned to be a man!

I can't believe that the graphic designer wasn't having a lend when it was decided that this would be the picture to grace the cover.

We've Started Solids

Literal Lesson

Readers of Suburban Safari are educated and intelligent, so have no need of this lesson in usage. Regardless, one of my favorite linguistic cock-ups has popped up several times over the last week so I feel moved to say something on the subject.

I speak of the word "literally". Here's what Bill Bryson has to say on the issue in Troublesome Words:

All too often used as a kind of disclaimer by writers who mean, generally, the opposite of what they are saying. The results are generally excruciating [...]

It should not need saying, but if you don't wish to be taken literally, don't use literally. The word means actually, not figuratively. It is acceptable only when it serves to show that an expression usually used figuratively is to be taken at its word, as in: "He literally died laughing."

I have ABC Local Radio on in the house most days, and have heard these gems over the past few weeks:

The shelves are literally groaning with diet products these days...

Geelong literally butchered the opposition...

He was really clingy after that. He was literally stuck to my leg all day, every day.

I literally flew through the door...

Choice.