for the life of me, i don’t know how i didn’t even notice it was missing. not when they each weighed a ton i was surprised i still had ears left. the only time i realized that there was only one earring dangling on the left side of my head was when i was about to take the missing piece off.
i was mortified. not because they were a cute pair or that losing one would render the other useless, but because THE WHOLE ENTIRE TIME I WAS WALKING AROUND THE CITY LIKE A F%CKING PIRATE! i mean, not to be dramatic or anything but all i needed was a parrot on my right shoulder to balance things off and i would’ve been legit.
but all of that is irrelevant now. no point crying over spilled milk or asymmetrical use of accessories because past is past and i eventually found the item in question in my bag two days later. i don’t even know how it got there. must be when i was fumbling to dig out my phone to call jeff because i kind of got lost in the maze of melbourne’s city streets before finding my footing in the corner of russell and collins — right where louis vuitton was.
i later told jeff it was a sign (wink, wink) but my subtle message didn’t even penetrate. that dude has a hide thicker than a komodo dragon’s. then again, komodo dragons have only one ear bone so researchers thought they were deaf when they showed no visible reaction to whispers, raised voices, or shouts. (or in this case, hints.) however, according to wikipedia, one zoo employee successfully trained a captive specimen to come out for a feed at the sound of her voice which led me to the conclusion that jeff has selective hearing.
“hey, you wanna take the hosier lane route?” he shouted from the other side of the street where he was waiting. on his rollerblades, as always. the main reason why we had to park four blocks away so he could skate down his favorite “hill,” which is really nothing but a street with a downward slope with a relatively heavy pedestrian traffic to bear witness to his smooth power slides. also the main reason why i lost him.
he didn’t have to ask. but, of course. as one of melbourne’s most-visited alleyways as far as street art is concerned, i’d take that over a louis anytime! (fingers crossed behind my back. but, of course.)
the very first time i visited the famous lane, i have to admit it was love at first sight. you know, the kind that takes your breath away? the problem with that kind of adoration is you put the object of your affection on a pedestal, falsely holding them to a state of perpetual perfection.
until you start noticing the little changes, like i did the next time i went. and it’s ironic how, when the art was all beautiful, i was using a lousy (albeit beloved) camera. now that i have a photographer for a husband who takes pictures for me, the not-so-pretty images are captured into sharp, high-quality photos. as if all the flaws are highlighted and scrutinized under a powerful microscope. every bit of defect made bright as day.
my last visit didn’t help. not only was i disappointed with what i saw, i also wanted a divorce. because most of the graffiti there was pretty blah. i hate to sound mean knowing that the artists who did them probably gave their heart and soul into it but, i don’t know. i guess i expected more, especially on the feature wall.
just as i expected more from my reading skills and not be so dumb as to read the above caption IN SPANISH! no kidding, i sounded as exotic as sofia vergara in my head: “grow amo, save abro.” i even prolonged rolling my ‘r’ a little bit simply because i love the taste of the spanish language in my mouth.
so, yeah, it took me a while to figure out it was actually english and in honor of movember. the whole time, i silently wondered who that guy was or if he was like a pablo escobar or something. and what the heck amo and abro meant.
my level of genius goes so deep it’s scary.
now, this is my kind of street art. i like those that make me think. i especially gravitate towards quotes because words give me the high. it’s kind of like eating dark chocolate or drinking red wine. you let it sit on your tongue for a bit and wait for the flavors to explode in your mouth, shooting fireworks straight to your brain.
as much as i complain about what i perceive to be the deterioration of hosier lane’s street art appeal, all is not lost. you still get a fair bit of redemption here and there.
kind of like love. you just gotta look past the blemishes and appreciate it for what it offers. warts and all.
who knows? next year could be better.