Brindabella Psychedelia

I’m one of those lucky punks whose offices have been moved from the Civic shop­ping won­der­land out to Brind­abel­la Busi­ness Park (the Air­port). Work­ing there is like a cross between DuLoc (from Shrek) because it’s a “per­fect place”, and The Tru­man Show.

If you go for a walk at lunchtime you see the same peo­ple over and over again… And I mean quite lit­er­al­ly over and over again because they usu­al­ly do at least a cou­ple of laps of the block to alle­vi­ate the bore­dom. “Hey Azka”… “Hi Bill”… “Hey again Azka!”… “Hel­lo again Bill!”.

Actu­al­ly, some­times it reminds me of the movie ‘Cube’, but that’s usu­al­ly when I’m stuck in a meet­ing.

Come to think of it, I’m still wait­ing for a phone call from Trin­i­ty say­ing “They know you know. Get out. Get out now!”