hands up if you have not had sex with someone sitting at this table...

Some years ago I was privileged enough to find myself hosting a radio show on Radio Adelaide under the guise of uncovering interesting things about Adelaide that not many people knew. Our first show was devoted to something that everyone already knows, and at the time seemed to be reverberating through our existence - the two and half degrees of separation between everyone living in Adelaide. We didn't research particularly well - there was no facebook back then to easily get statistics on who knew who - we figured on it being a fairly well established fact and discussed what it meant to us and our lives.

Six or seven years on, Adelaide being highly interconnected had stopped being a revelation and had become the status quo. It wasn't exactly surprising to find people who knew people who knew you, it was more expected than not. Feeling somewhat claustrophobic within the tangle of interconnections, and finding the start of an exciting new world just 8 hours drive away, I realised it was time to move on. Time to break free of the circles I'd grown up in and move to the bigger playground, where hopefully the swings would be more exciting, the monkey bars high enough that my feet didn't scrape the ground and where there'd be a whole bunch of new kids who didn't all know each other already.

The prospect was exciting and a little frightening - I knew a bunch of people , in a whole lot of different circles, but nothing as intertwined as the Venn Diagram I was leaving behind me. The thought of being able to go out and know no one at the party was invigorating. So I came and I met people, I socialised, I had a whole lot of fun. I met people through different avenues, at different parties, under different circumstances.

Slowly though, the circles started to tighten. People I thought were in entirely different circles were suddenly old friends, people who didn't know each other before I arrived became the best of friends, and I found myself struggling to describe who these new people were to the old circles back home. It's not a bad thing at all, just an interesting realisation, the world is a small place, you create your own circles, like attracts like, and you're drawn to the same people who are drawn to each other.

So here I am a year later, and I think I might have been spending too much time on the one piece of play equipment. Sitting around outside with a big group of people at the Black Cat on Brunswick St a friend of mine looked around and said "Hands up if you haven't had sex with someone sitting at this table". One person put their hand up. Welcome back to Adelaide circa 1999.

A little late, a little memory

I don’t want to ever forget this afternoon. I sat on the porch couch in the sun, drinking cider, smoking, reading Kerouac and listening to Bowie. As if that wasn’t fulfilling enough, as I sat out there a beautiful young girl walked past and handed me the most amazing looking pink blossoms. That completely random act made me feel so special, so pleased. I felt rewarded for taking time out to myself, to sit and engross myself in sweetness, all on my own. I know those moments are rare, the rare combination of sunshine and time out, and the will to sit and be peaceful doesn’t come as often as it should. I know that this period of my life is special; there will be times when my life is full of beautiful action, busy and hectic, yet still wonderful I’m sure. For now, I can appreciate the stillness, the languid afternoon, with the sun slowly melting through the trees, time to contemplate and reflect. The simple joy of reading words so beautifully put, images conjured and tales told as if they were playing out before me, in the same delicate slowness that they were witnessed. Oh, the joy of reading, tripping over the words as they saunter past, listening softly to the heartbeats, the moments of the characters, told, not to drive towards some suspenseful ending, but just to be told, and to be relished. Conjuring the memories of childhood and adolescence, feeling their emotions, and remembering my own stories like these. Stories that are by far more important to the participant than the observer, but throwing the reader into the participant’s pulsating memory, allows them re-witness the beauty of life over and over. Life is beautiful, its moments pass by so quickly, it is important to stop and notice them. Hold them briefly and preserve their memories. Please always let me remember the beauty of the sun shining through the plane trees on Rathdowne Street, framing the illuminated clouds in the azure sky, the moments of peace and stillness and the freedom of having time to read in my own company warmed by the sun, with the taste of cider on my lips. I could quite possibly be the luckiest girl in the world. At moments like these I wonder whether I could ask for anything more.