Darlinghurst Blog: Detritus: One Year Anniversary

Exactly one year ago I set up a new blog called My Darling Darlinghurst and published my first post at about eight in the morning. I only know it was 8.20am because that's what the time stamp says. God knows what I was doing up at that hour.

Anyway, over the next year I became obsessed with my little blog, encouraged on by the dozens of lovely emails I received from readers throughout Australia and around the world. Okay, there were probably not dozens of people writing to me, but there were at least 12. And each little bit of correspondence I received was lovely. It is a rare thing to indulge your passion and then have people enjoy it enough to write to you, so for each and every email I am grateful. 

Some of the people that wrote to me, such as street photographer Adrian Bell and Tasmanian tunnel-lover Stephen Hickmott, also had their stories published here and continue to write to me today and I am the richer for it.

Through this blog - in a way - I was also able to meet and correspond with Larry Writer, author of Razor and all-round charming chap.  

What a blessed existence I have in this excellent neighbourhood. 

I may be too old to still be renting and have no money in the bank, but there is a daily joy in waking up in Darlinghurst and wondering what adventures I might have or what people I might meet. 

I also think my blog provides me with a good distraction to forget about the things that I don't have and simply appreciate the things that I do.

To celebrate my first year as a blogger, I have made a tiny, eensy-weensy, little eight-page zine, A Guide To The Neighbourhood, which will be distributed through my favourite shops. 

Just like my blog the zine is a labour of love, has the occasional mistake and is not perfect. But please be kind to it, because unlike my blog, you can also use it as a makeshift fan to cool you through the warm spring days. 

I began work on the zine many moons ago, but when it came to the point to draw the large map that features in its centre-spread, I gave up. It was just far beyond my technical skills. 

But then, with the first anniversary rapidly approaching, I decided to just cheat and use a photocopy of an existing map, rather than drawing it myself. The result is not that great: you can barely see the streets, so it is practically useless. 

Still, I take heart that many people who choose to use the map may become lost in the Darlinghurst backstreets and stumble upon a hidden treasure, say a beautiful piece of street art. Then, becoming lost and losing time will be so worthwhile. 

I published the zine or comic on pink paper, because when I started this blog it was initially pink (but while pink is one of my favourite colours, it's not to everybody's taste so I switched it to the present sepia shade).

The first print of the zine is an exclusive edition of 30, which features hard covers and colour printing. If you would like me to send you one, please message me with your postal address through the My Darling Darlinghurst Facebook page.

The second print has soft covers, only comes in black ink and I'll probably print as many of them as I can, to distribute in my favourite local shops, such as Strawberry Cream and Russell Wade Clothing. 

If you happen to come across one, please let me know what you think. 

If I am still around in another year, I might make another one. 

Thanks for reading and warmest wishes, Violet Tingle.

Darlinghurst: Detritus: Flying Dream

I had a dream last night that I was flying above Sydney. 

I came in from the harbour and soared over Woolloomooloo.

I wanted to fly home to my bed but the wind was strong and my wings weren't powerful enough. So I glided downwards where I was protected by tall buildings and I flew along the streets back towards Darlinghurst, round the bend of Cowper Wharf Road, over Wylde and on up to William Street.

It was a strange flight. 

The streets were deserted and looked more like they had been torn from the pages of a three-dimensional street directory.

Darlinghurst did not look the same.
Many buildings were missing and there were deep holes in the ground. 

My apartment had vanished, so I flew on, looking for signs of life. 

Even at Central Station and Hyde Park there was no one to be seen. 

So I flew back towards the harbour, from where I had come; over the Opera House I flew and continued on out towards the Pacific Ocean.

*

Darlinghurst: Comics: Postcard

I have just made some cute little pink postcards featuring this illustration, which shows me with the Poos on Sticks sculpture and a rogue Dalek in Darlinghurst. If you would like me to send you a postcard in the mail, please email with your postal address. I will send postcards anywhere in the world, including to my readers in the Ukraine and Pakistan. I have a reader in China too! And, yes, this service is FREE. I will pay for the stamps. Thanks for visiting my blog, and don't forget, My Darling Darlinghurst also now has a Facebook page with special features and exclusive photo albums.

Warmest wishes, Violet xxx
violettingle@gmail.com

Darlinghurst: Public Transport: The 311 Bus

A small part of my week is taken up by scenes such as this:

And this:

And this:

It may not look like the greatest place to be, but while I'm seated there, looking at the backs of people's heads, I couldn't be happier, because I have just managed to catch the 311 Bus. And that's no easy feat.

The 311 Bus - or the 311 Mystery Bus as it is known to dozens of Darlinghurst's residents who spend a great deal of time waiting at the bus stop for the ride that never arrives - is a vehicle that inspires mixed emotions.

When it fails to show up, or arrives early so that I miss it, I curse the damn thing and then fork out $10 for the cab to work.

But when it arrives on time - and the driver actually sees me and pulls over - I just love that bus.

Then there are the other times when I'm in no need of public transport and I see the 311 waiting impatiently at the lights, rearing to go:

Or just storming past in a blaze of blue paint and petrol fumes:

It is during these moments that I feel compelled to turn to the person nearest to me and say, ''Look! There's the 311!''

Such is its phantom-like allure.

The 311 route could not be more efficient. It begins its journey down at the loop in Elizabeth Bay, chugs up Greenknowe Avenue, cruises along Macleay Street, hoons along Victoria Street and tears down Oxford and Elizabeth streets along the edge of the CBD to Central Station.

From my bus stop on Victoria Street, it takes me only 10 minutes to arrive at work on the 311.

There's also a 311 Doppelganger bus that begins its route at the Elizabeth Bay loop and ends at Circular Quay, near Sydney Harbour, but that doesn't service Darlinghurst residents.

Darlinghurst instead has the 389 Bus from Bondi Junction in Sydney's eastern suburbs, which happens to pass along Burton Street and down through Little Italy (in the Darlinghurst Valley or Flats) on its way to the Quay. It is a bus that isn't purely devoted to the suburb and I only use it when I need to go to David Jones department store, because it stops right outside the door on Elizabeth Street.

There's also an army of buses that plough along Oxford Street on their way to and from other places, but I am not interested in those itinerants.

To catch the 311 it is useful to have one of these:

You can buy the TravelTen ticket at most convenience stores in the area and for $16 you can take ten rides on the 311 that would normally cost $20 if you were paying by cash.

The alternative commute to Central Station from Darlinghurst is by train, which departs from nearby Kings Cross, but that costs $3.20 for a one-way trip.

There is also this bus:

But it costs $30, cruises around the city endlessly and is designed for tourists.

The other thing I love about catching the 311 is the curious people, overheard conversations and occasionally interesting graffiti that can be found inside its hallowed interior.

I have seen some strange commuters, usually nervous-looking middle-aged men, who hop on the bus at Taylor Square and then alight at Whitlam Square, a journey of about 500m that would be more efficiently traversed on foot. These people are not elderly, generally look healthy and I often wonder about their motivation. Perhaps, like me, they just simply love being on the 311.

I also spent one trip listening in to a conversation between two women in which I received a detailed account of one's mental health history and whether or not she was presently going through a manic period. Judging by the tone and volume of her voice, I gave her a positive diagnosis.

Then yesterday, while luxuriating in the sun on the 311, I spotted this collectable sticker on the back of a seat:

Here's a close-up:

The caption reads: Disappointment, Number 4 in a Series.

I wonder if the man in the photograph is standing at a bus stop somewhere in Darlinghurst, still waiting for the 311.

Darlinghurst: Retailers: Darlo DVD versus Oovie

Television's a bit of a bore and I can rarely sit still in the cinema, but I'm quite happy to rent films on DVD, so that I can stop, pause and play at leisure.

My local, the Darlo DVD shop, at 110 Darlinghurst Road*, has been around since the olden days when there were big boxy things such as Beta and VHS. It used to take up two shopfronts in the same building but when the smaller-format DVD arrived on the market, the store shrunk too.
Darlo DVD stocks a fairly vast collection of foreign and independent films, with new-release titles costing $7 to rent overnight.
Here is a photograph I took of Darlo DVD today:

There is often chatter about the impending death of the local DVD/video shop due to the growing popularity of online downloads, but about a year ago a new threat to the locally-staffed stores emerged:

I first spotted this bright green Oovie vending-machine (one of a pair) in the Kingsgate Shopping Centre, beneath the Coca-Cola sign in Kings Cross. And I felt outraged. It was the same way I felt when I realised Coles and Woolworths supermarkets had introduced self-checkout systems where customers scan their own grocery's barcodes, bag their own goods, experience a brief moment as a check-out chick and then go blissfully on their way, not realising their aptitude with a cash-register just meant the supermarkets' no longer needed to advertise for extra staff this Christmas.

I have nothing against technology, it just annoys me that large supermarket-chains can so easily convince their customers into believing they are making their lives faster and easier by allowing them to do the check-out chick's job. When really, the real aim behind Coles' and Woolworths' new systems, is that they can now employ fewer staff to work a handful of check-outs and if anyone complains about the long queues, they can simply be waved on to the self-checkouts. See, we are thinking about our customers' needs.

I once read somewhere that humans' require at least three conversations or interactions with other humans each day to avoid slumping into depression. And it's true. I have experienced entire weekends when I haven't spoken to a single friend, but my descent into Prozac-muncher has been saved by brief chats with the man at the bottle shop, the woman behind the counter at the newsagent and the cashier at Coles. So I not only worry that the self-checkout system is going to result in fewer jobs, I am concerned the nation's mental health will take a dive if there is no one behind the counter to talk to.

My outrage about the Oovie machine followed the same reasoning but I also wondered what would happen to Darlo DVD now that these flashy new vending machines had set up shop nearby? Surely they would be forced to close and their young staff would have to look for new jobs. And Coles doesn't need any extra staff.

But I was sure the Oovies wouldn't last anyway. Not in socially-minded Darlinghurst. People here care about jobs for the workers, medically-supervised injection centres and mental health. But then I spotted this Red Room DVD-factory in the Oxford Square shopping centre, on the corner of Oxford and Riley streets:

Red Room even promotes the mantra, "DVD Killed the Video Store", on its website and describes itself as a ''Revolution of the Video Rental Store''.

So the video-vending-machine industry was growing and I was wrong. In fact, people actually queued up to use the Oovies and I couldn't understand why until one cold, February day when I was hungry, lonely and poor, with no money to afford a $7 over-nighter and I saw, blazoned across the Oovie machine: $1.99 New Release.

Well, I thought, I'll just have a look and see how this thing works and not long after I was curled up at home watching The September Issue and it didn't cost me a cent because your first Oovie rental is free. What a bargain. I was so clever. And then to further validate my good move, Oovie emailed me a code, which allowed me to rent two movies for the price of one on the following day.

So the next morning I lashed out $2.99 and watched the gorgeous Samson and Delilah and the literally forgettable, The Lodger, which I have no recollection of, except for an Oovie receipt that says I rented it.

Over the next few months I returned to the Oovies twice (Capitalism - A Love Story; Julie and Julia), but after failing to visit the vending machines in the past two months - just because I had no desire to watch anything - they sent me an email enquiring about my mental health:

''Catch a Falling Star: We've noticed you haven't rented from Oovie in the last 2 months.

We'd love to have you back, so to show just how special you are, we're offering you these special Oovie goodies below. Hope to see you soon!''

I may like my bottle shop man to be friendly and my newsagent to be chatty, but faux chumminess in an email from the anonymous Team Oovie - and the description of me as a ''fallen star'' - made me a bit uncomfortable. They also used the word ''special'' twice in the same sentence. Who writes these things? Darlo DVD would never do that.

So I have decided to stay away from the Oovies for the moment, because apart from the email, I always worried that I'd be using the vending-machine one cold, miserable day when a staff member from Darlo DVD would walk by and spot me in the act of betrayal.

*

Darlo DVD

4/110 Darlinghurst Road

Darlinghurst NSW 2010

02 9331 5675

*UPDATE: Darlo DVD has moved and has been reborn as:

Film Club
136A Darlinghurst Road
Darlinghurst NSW 2010
02 9331 8105
www.filmclubsydney.com

Darlinghurst: Comics: 2002

I made this comic about Darlinghurst soon after settling in Hardie Street. The day I moved in there was a big poo on the front doorstep. It wasn't a particularly good welcome sign.

A few weeks later my family paid me a visit and there was another poo near the front doorstep. So I suppose I was a little shocked (after the relatively sweet homeliness of Surry Hills) and also disappointed about the amount of rubbish that overflowed from people's garbage bins and on to the streets.

I think I was also saddened by the number of old, male alcoholics who used to rant and rave on the streets. Are there less of these men around today or have I just become immune?

The comic was published in the Spring 2002 edition of Strewth magazine, a small, independent publication that no longer exists.

For those without sharp eyes, the text reads:

On her way home very late one night / Violet Tingle found the city was not quite right.

A sour stench of urine hung in the air / And a plague of pigeons shook dirty feathers everywhere.

The ageing gum flowered fast food wraps / While beneath lay a bed of syringes and scraps.

She thought Oh perhaps I got lost on the way / But no! With relief she saw it was familiar as day.

A weak homeless man trying to put up a fight / And a sloppy brown poo glimmering in the moonlight.

Yes, I know, it's terrible, but I still make these hopeless little comics when I'm inspired and have the time.