I don’t know why, but in much the way I gain inspirational ideas from messages I read in toilet cubicles, I also gain from the simple act of taking a tram. To be honest, there’s nothing creative to it, it isn’t magical writing, it is merely the luck that I have in being exposed to certain ‘characters’ in Melbourne, and various perspectives. And at that, I would now like to introduce a new category under which I can practice my Literary Gangster skills, and that is: Tram Diary. Hope you’re having a laugh! TLG.
Tram Diary Entry One
Hear kapeowww electric zest above the beast power-lines in jest tram combs the road amongst clunks of battered motorized trash step up inside push through the mass clutch a pole in the ancient vehicle seek a seat avoid hand rails, high heel shoes and eye contact too make for the rear where one can watch the tram’s graffiti metal lines doodling crumbling tar spoked-wheel species together we inch along.
Would you like my seat? ‘No, look at you on your phones, all of you, can’t get far enough away, you’re too close to me, too close girl, no I don’t want your filthy seat, now get off’. Stumble forwards towards tram’s head desperate and searching for eye contact the woman shouts more and when the tram doors feed me fresh air I can’t help but think that this schizophrenic woman has a point. Feel kapeowww electric zest exhales city breath.