Symphony In The Key Of Random

First movement

I’ve seen the future (again).

Australian spin bowler, Hauritz, had his finger almost jammed back into his own pelvis by trying to pull off a caught-bowled on a ball travelling at roughly the speed of sound. The ultra-slow-motion replay was sickening enough, but when they put the infra-red, heat sensitive vision on the poor bugger, I swear I could see the pain messages travelling up the axons in his arm and exploding in his head.

So let’s get real about it. If we’re going down this path, I want EEGs on all these guys so we can analyse the brain waves when they dive for a catch… or start sms-ing the wrong women.

Second Movement

The light rail in Sydney is one of the best things I’ve ever been on. I was a cabby in this town for ten years and it is fair to say that it is hard to surprise me with the local geography. In general, I can say without fibbing, “Been there.” But the light rail took me through familiar suburbs at such an unfamiliar angle, at such a weird sort of height and through such unused chunks of land, that it was kind of like seeing Sydney for the first time… again.

In fact it was so good, when Emergency Contact and I got to the final stop on the line, we forgot to get off and started going back into town. We only cottoned on to this, when we started travelling backwards. Actually, what is doubly weird about this, now that I type it, is that I didn’t see the driver get out of the front bit, which then becomes the back bit, to walk down to the back, so that bit can become the front for the trip back… if you see what I mean. I reckon that would be kind of cool, driving from the back. It’s sort of the ultimate statement in relaxed control.

Third Movement

Someone who sits in the same room as I do at work, is prone to making bold statements about famous people. Particularly, how much they mean to her. One of the regular little pearls is,

“[insert talentless, media creation’s name here] is my idol.”

The other day it was “Beyonce is my idol.”

I couldn’t help myself because the day before it had been, “Britney Spears is my idol.” I rose to the bait and said,

“What? How can Beyonce and Britney be your idols? That just doesn‘t make any sense.”

“They’re like the opposite of each other.” she says. I don’t know why, but that just does not seem right to me either.

“No they’re not.” I say. I'm mentally slapping myself for even getting involved, but I’m in too deep, I have to keep going.

“The opposite of Beyonce, is Michael Caine.” and as soon as I’ve said it, I realise the unassailable truth of what I’ve just light-heartedly thrown out. As it comes out of my mouth, I realise how fantastically and accidentally bang-on-the-money that is. The room goes quiet and everyone smiles a little at the crystallising wholeness and rightness of the revelation. I am just a conduit at this point and I sit there with them and enjoy the essential yin and yang of this universal balancing axiom. One beat goes by, and in a flawless J. Micklewhite impersonation, Smurfy says,

“Not many people know dat.”