#1001  – 18 June 2017

I remember starting up daily coffee runs with Ashley and Bridget at work.  And on the days that Ashley was not there, Bridget and I would not go for coffee together, and on the days Bridget was not there, Ashley and I still would.  Bridget and I were friends only through Ashley and not through one another, and it was via the purchasing of coffee that we discovered this.

#1002  – 19 June 2017

I remember recommending three books to people who did not read much but expressed a desire to read more and better books.  The three were, invariably – Life of Pi by Yann Martel, because it was easy to find and sufficiently different to genre fiction to encourage further reading; Margaret Atwood’s Cat’s Eye, because it was a solid example of contemporary realism and had a strong and interesting female protagonist (I was always and only asked for book recommendations by women: men do not read); José Saramago’s Blindness, for the adventurous, a book to which I went to great pains to convey would be unlike anything they had previously read, but – stick with it.  Of the three, most often the favourite that came back was Blindness, and to those readers it became very dear.

#1003  – 20 June 2017

I remember going to a Xero conference in 2016 at the BCEC.  It was fine, and at the end of it I caught the bus home.  I was reading a Modiano book on the bus, which I finished on the way home.  And because of that, when I got off at the bus stop, instead of returning home, I jumped on the next bus into the city and returned to the conference to take part in the free drinks I had been initially too shy to attend.

#1004  – 21 June 2017

I remember farewelling Elle at an all-you-can-eat Brazilian restaurant.  An endless, meaty, sweaty haze followed by a meat coma and rest.  So much meaty rest.

#1005  – 22 June 2017

I remember walking home, at different hours of the day (1pm, 2:30pm, 5pm, 11am) and there, almost every single time, waiting for me, was my little dog Captain, his face pressed against the window watching, watching, watching.  For how long had he been there?  How long?

#1006  – 23 June 2017

I remember when I truly was writing these daily, and hadn’t fallen terribly behind, constantly racing to catch up to the true memories of today (which invariably become the faded memories of yesterday).  That stressful need to dredge up important, interesting memories, even though the entire purpose of this project is to recall the small, tiny, insignificant, nothing memories which make up the entirety of my life. (This particular entry was actually written on 9 April 2018 and posted on 8 August 2020).

#1007  – 24 June 2017

I remember when Harry Mulisch died, and he was one of the first authors whose death created in me a true and outraged sense that a greater writer had missed out on the Nobel.  (And to think, I was alive when Borges was, too!)

#1008  – 25 June 2017

I remember when Anna and I lived at Thondley Street in Windsor, in a cheap brick apartment building.  We were terribly poor, and most nights we ate dinner while listening to the Acid House King’s album, Sing Along with the Acid House Kings.  And every five or ten minutes someone would walk past our front door, which directly faced into the stairwell of the apartment building, on the ground floor, where everyone needed to walk by.

#1009  – 26 June 2017

I remember playing Settlers of Catan with Anna and her siblings, and her sister’s husband (then, I think, her boyfriend), and how outrageously competitive Anna and I were together, to the point where we regularly exploded at and argued with one another in front of everyone.

#1010  – 27 June 2017

I remember seeing a lot more frogs in the backyard as a child.  They don’t seem to be around any more.  I lived a couple of hundred kilometres more North, but surely that doesn’t matter all that much?

#1011  – 28 June 2017

I remember leaving Brisbane early in the morning, and then eating sashimi and sushi in a tiny restaurant in Sennichimae in Osaka by the time it was night.  This by Jetstar, via Cairns, with two (minor) flight upgrades, and a (foolish) $150 taxi ride from the Osaka airport to our hotel.

#1012  – 29 June 2017

I remember Dotonbori, the Glicko Man, and wandering the streets of early morning Namba while drinking canned cold coffee.  My wife, and the city, slept.

#1013  – 30 June 2017

I remember the strange area of Osaka called Amerikamura, where African Americans are paid to stand outside stores and encourage people to come in and experience ‘true America’.

#1014  – 1 July 2017

I remember a Western-style cafe in Dotonbori which had an enormous map of the World up on the wall, huge really, with the prime coffee growing regions of the world identified and little text boxes jutting from each space, and instead of information about the geographic area or coffee type grown, instead there was lorem ipsum…

#1015  – 2 July 2017

I remember endless yakitori skewers in Osaka, with my favourites being chicken thigh, neck, heart, liver, skin – all of the good bits which were never served back in Brisbane, Australia (2021 Update – Bird’s Nest in Fortitude Valley and West End serve these skewers.  There may be other places).  And the endless beers with their enormous heads, drunk by Anna and I from tiny izekayas scattered around the Dōtonbori area.

#1016  – 3 July 2017

I remember Anna’s pure joy at visiting the ramen museum in Osaka and being able to make her own cup noodles (which we still have, sealed, never to be eaten even though, at some point, pre-expiry, we could have).

#1017  – 4 July 2017

I remember finding a Gudetama cafe in Osaka, and then, later, of course I watched a number of YouTube oddities when I got home concerning that very depressed little egg.

#1018  – 5 July 2017

I remember Ashley messaging me while she was drunk and celebrating EOFY with various work people to complain about poor treatment from a jealous old nag.  At the time I was sitting in a hotel room in Kyoto while Anna slept, bored and watching, I think, Jurassic Park.