The Homicidal Urges

This is partly to balance out last night's Post o' DOOM.

As a Melbournian, I've put up with the supposed rivalry between us and Sydney for a very long time. I've heard people say that Melbourne is a drab, grey place that can't compare to Sydney's natural beauty, set next to its harbour with its bridge and its opera house blah blah blah. That all Melbourne is is a large, dirty port city.

It's true: Melbourne doesn't have Sydney's harbour with all its little outcroppings and lit-up ferries at night that prettily reflect off the water's surface. It's also true that Melbourne is decidedly colder. However, recently I saw something that stunned me: Melbourne from the air, hugging Port Phillip Bay.

It was a gorgeously sunny evening as we returned from our honeymoon. I still had the remains of a bad mood that I'd nurtured from the start of the flight (don't ask). And then we passed over the border between South Australia and Victoria. The sky was so clear that I could see directly below, with surprising clarity. I saw green Victoria and was shocked by the green: I'd forgotten that recently Victoria had received a shitload of rain. I was hoping to eventually see Melbourne by air but didn't hold out much hope, as the airport is west of the city and I didn't think the pilot would make a circle over the city. Turns out I was wrong. Either the pilot was a Melbourne boy, or he'd read my thoughts. Because we came up to Melbourne in such a way that I could see perfectly the entirety of enormous Port Phillip Bay. I saw the Rip, that historically nasty little channel between Points Lonsdale and Nepean that caused so much trouble for transport vessels. I could pick out little Corio Bay and Geelong; I even spied the shit farm in Werribee. I recognised the remarkably recognisable Bellarine Peninsula with its bay that looks like the open maw of one of the aliens from the same movie. And I saw the sprawl of Melbourne hugging the huge main bay, with the mouth of the Yarra River spewing into it. I saw how the suburbs give way, in fits and starts, to little settlements and farmland.

It was an utterly astounding view. I saw just how massive Melbourne is, how freaking majestic it is. How green it is. I saw the colourful scenery that Jeff (one of our past state premiers, for those who have no idea what I'm talking about) put up next to the exit to the Tulla freeway near to where we live: from the air, even that unsightly mess looks charming.

I've seen a fair few cities from air. Nothing compares to the sight I saw last Monday from that plane. It was amazing. And that pilot accommodatingly flew a wide circle around the grandiose sight, dipping the wings every now and then so both sides could see it. He must have been a Melbourne boy.

It's times like this when I realise that, for all my bitching and moaning about Melbourne, it's always going to be home to me. And that I'll always love it, whilst occasionally hating it.

And as for Sydney: you can keep your bloody harbour, and your humidity, and your ridiculous pieces of outdated architecture. I'll keep my nasty, dirty port city, thanks.

It's good to be home.

Today, I drove to band practise in Hallam (for Lord Mouth, not Left of Crazy. Oh yeah, the metal band is now called Lord Mouth. I like it; blow me if you don't). Anyway, I made sure I got out of the house early. Early enough to swing by my local café and get a flat white, and yet still be able to drive into Hallam on time.

I forgot about Murphy's Law. Actually, no. I forgot about STUPID FUCKING ROAD WORKS/WORKERS OF FUCKING STUPID FESTERING IN A MASSIVE FUCKING CAULDRON OF GODDAMN STUPID...

As I pulled onto the freeway onramp just past Chadstone (big mall, for those of you not from Oz), what should have been relatively smooth sailing on the freeway was all of a sudden halted by a big fuck-off wall of traffic. Kinda like this:

I know it's not that easy to see the big line of traffic disappearing off into the horizon, but trust me, it's there. This photo was taken after I'd already been incrementally inching forward, in fits and starts, my clutch really not liking these little movements forward, for quite some time. The first time I've regretted buying a manual car...

And, of course, I couldn't back out of the freeway entrance. So I had to wait.

And wait.

And wait some fucking more.

This is on a Sunday morning, mind you. This is also after I made sure I would get to Hallam early.

I waited a hell of a long time, getting (as you can imagine) angrier and angrier by the passing nanosecond, as traffic inched forward and people ducked and weaved (or crept and crawled) into and out of lanes and refused to let other people in.

After about twenty minutes, I saw what was causing this ridiculous Sunday morning traffic jam:



They were funnelling THREE FOUR FUCKING LANES ON A FREEWAY INTO ONE. And you can tell on the sign that it's not done too many times, as the third contemptuous "NO LANE" sign has been added on rather amateurishly.

I could not believe it. Of all the goddamned bone-headed things to do. Why they couldn't close down two at the most, work on that bit of road, then close the other two off is utterly beyond me. It took all I had in me to not roll down my window as I passed the moronic road workers, all stereotypically lounging around on their bit of blocked-off bitumen, and yell a few choice words about them being over-unionised fucktarded cockspanks etc etc...

You know what made it even worse? After it was too late to do anything about, I turned on the radio and caught a traffic report, which helpfully informed me of this: "...traffic is banked up all along the Monash Freeway due to roadworks, so please choose an alternate route."

GAH...guess I'll be listening to traffic reports from now on.

Yeah, I'm still cranky about it. I'm an elephant. No, fuck that: I'm a hate camel. And my hate hump has been filled; should last me a long time.

Oh yeah, and of course I was ridiculously late for band practise. My plans are foiled YET AGAIN. I hate you, Murphy.

And I is sheepish.

The minute I walked into my Once-Again Favourite Café, the proprietress apologised profusely for fucking up my coffee order yesterday, and gave me another free one. I actually did half-heartedly protest, but she insisted.

Mnyes. Now I have coffee. Mnyes...

( Now for a ramble about the new Batman movie. Thar be spoilers. )

That was not supposed to be so long. Oh well.