the grey stuff

Truly, you want a picture, I know you do. Pictures are what we are all here for. Even though I take crappy ones. The words are apparently just the grey stuff around the pictures.

But you can’t have one.

Because I don’t have one.

But – before my eyes just pop right out of my head, I have to say, this folding bike has seen some action.

Sure, it didn’t come with me today to see the steam off the Merri Creek in the wee hours of the morning or the not very good coffee at the place that used to have better coffee. Nor did it make the transactional real and send back my electric blanket to its rightful owner (surely I don’t need an electric blanket in Brisbane?). It didn’t go to Mitte for meatballs and it didn’t sit right next to me in the world’s most memory-laden kitchen.

But it did swing its way up and over High St to Kate and Blakey’s place, which had so many bikes I wanted to learn more but I knew I was secretly too manic and too pressed for time to do so. Suffice to say, I am planning to have at least half the number of bikes that they do. One day. It did steal Kate’s way non-ethnic makeup so that I looked like Marcel Marceau. It did try and salvage its dignity by reading its set off the iphone. It went to Pelligrinis and smashed a massive lasagna with the partner in rhyme. It went to Loop and tucked into the DJ desk. It toddled over to Von Haus and had cheese and wine and wine and cheese. It wheeled over to the European and then jaunted up to Nicholson St. So yeah, not that many miles, but miles of smiles and giggles.

Today’s tally:

– 2 x “your bike has small wheels” by children

– 1 x “I like how you bike folds up” from the drunk guy at the tram stop.

– 1 x “that’s the most restaurant friendly bike I’ve ever seen”

– 1 x “give us a dink” (same drunk guy from before)

– 1 x “I think that’s my friend’s bike” from JD’s friend – lucky, cos it totally was

– 2 x “hehehe” (that was me)

– 4 x “want me to demo the folding?” – all from me, so far, only 2 x offers uptaken

– 3 x venues where I got to take my bike with me

– 4 x that I said the word f*ck at the top of my voice when I left bike nirvana and realised I didn’t have a lock but I was massively late for my gig, before I realised again I DIDN’T HAVE TO HAVE A LOCK BECAUSE I COULD FOLD MY BIKE UP AND TAKE IT WITH ME.

Yep. Good day.

Re-reading this I realise I am really really really really tired.








By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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