The traffic in George Street is banked up for half a mile
and drained of motion. The crowds are edgy with talk
and more crowds come hurrying. Many run in the back streets
which minutes ago were busy main streets, pointing:
There’s a fellow weeping down there. No one can stop him.
That’s just a little from a very favourite poem of mine by Les Murray. I have taken it to have deep meaning and have used it often in deep and meaningful situations. Today, I discovered that its simply to do with spending a day in the heart of Sydney City. Noone could stop me weeping by the time I had covered many city blocks, eaten in a vile and fevered food court, wrassled with the crowds and suffered bleeding toes from my old Blundstone boots. Good one, Les Murray. I was going to sit down and take off my old boots and blood stained socks but I thought it would be too evocative of the Murray poem so I simply put my sunglasses on to hide the weeping and marched on.
and when he stops, he simply walks between us
mopping his face with the dignity of one
man who has wept, and now has finished weeping.
Evading believers, he hurries off down Pitt Street.
The Weatherboard Cathedral, 1969
That was me alrighty. Off down Pitt Street, I went. I was looking for something orange or yellow. That’s the request from the Cheery Redhead for a present. I didn’t come across the orange or yellow thing I would like to find so tomorrow, I am going out again.
In this week of OCCUPY WALL STREET, I have been interested in our City Streets. I am not going to verbalise what has caught my eye. Just post the pics.
And on the steps, a man sleeps, wrapped in a sleeping bag. Another man approached me, drunk and messed up. What’s going on with us ? And me, I think of home and wonder how I am going to be able to rent a place to live on $700 per fortnight with rents over $300 per week.