Araman’s Net User Note: There is a Public telephone situated right outside a Fire Station. With merely 20c, I told the Operator the downtown Noodle factory was on Fire. Having the pleasure of watching my actions, I observed the Fire Truck, lights blaring and horns screaming – race its way out of the garage to disappear into the heat of the day. As the Noodle Factory was a 10-minute drive from the station that meant I had a minimum of 20 minutes to make this blog entry before they returned.

Waking up early (10:30am), I joyously walked the bricked pavement – passing dozens of food stalls as I went. Warming myself up under the sun. Still slightly drowsy, due to poor sleep, I hit a succession of Yawns – one after the other. My eyes, now fuzzy from the build up of tears, I had trouble seeing where I was going. As god would have it, I collided with a table – bashing my left knee while knocking a couple’s extremely hot cup of coffee and muffins into their laps. Both the couple and I shouted. Oddly, halfway through shouting, I did a very unnatural thing and swallowed a fly. As it turned out my scream sounded something like: “Aahh-ch, ch Kkkk!!”

Walking on, rubbing my knee with every second step, I realised that there was something peculiar about the taste. Several minutes on it came to me – there was this delicious Apple and Cinnamon hint to the insect - a wonderful hint - something that I felt like totally cramming in my mouth. It must have been the Muffin! Turning around, I made my way back to the Café. Searching my pockets for spare change – realising I had none.

Unable to afford a muffin, the most I could do was watch others enjoy their breakfast snack, happily unaware to the pain they were causing me, while I leant despairingly on a nearby drinking fountain – eating the second best thing that I could think of: Blow Fly’s.

Araman’s Net User Note: Hanging down by a Liquor store in one of the lesser sections of the city, I happened to be passing an apartment that was being raided by the police. Sneaking into the Communications van, I updated my blog entry, while placing the location of a fellow hobo – a drainpipe, on the list as a Drug dealing spot. (Stephen really should not of stolen my Tissue Boxes.)

Sitting upon a garden hedge bordering the road, I was pleasantly rubbing my tongue upon my fleshy crater-like gums while soaking up the warmth of the sun. Sniffing the city air and scratching recurrently in no place more than once – I was pleasantly reflecting to myself, keeping to myself. Swiftly, I was thrown into state of extreme consciousness, edging on hostility as a slightly moist ball of rice slapped me on the top of the head. Quickly I looked around me – everyone looked suspicious. After gaining no closure on the identity of the culprit – I settled myself back down, concluding it could only have been one person: That Indian Doctor.

Araman’s Net User Note: A Retravision truck slows to a halt, out the front of the building, whose wall makes up the right side of my alley. Approaching the Couriers, I managed to convince them that the address that they were delivering to was in fact my alleyway. With my newly acquired Desktop computer, I updated this blog entry – then took the rest of the day off watching Passions on my Home Theatre package.

If an elephant fell out of an exploding plane, plunged kilometres down, vigorously blasting its trunk under the knowing fear it was falling horrifically to its death – to land onto a truck full of cymbals, followed by the plane itself – I would sleep through it. So it came to me as a slight surprise when I awoke this morning to witness hundreds of people running past my alleyway. Pavement like horse’s chocolate, I balanced myself, adjusting my eyes to the sun. There was a Triathlon being held.

After finishing a 2 litre carton of Chocolate milk, slightly nauseous but content – I went about the course changing arrows, moving barriers and posing as a track volunteer. This was how I got my kicks. The zenith of my enjoyment occurred, upon luring the leading pack into a manhole full of waist high concrete – this posed a problem for everyone bar the Ethiopians, who turned out to be so skinny the concrete failed to slow them down, and they continued on until crossing the line.

Araman’s Net User Note: I’m in the home of a Cattle Farmer, posing as a Tax Accountant. The family is under the impression I’m here to do the Tax Records – analysing and then evaluating them – instead I’ll update my Blog entry and shit-bolt out of here when I’m truly alone.

I set up a water stall today. Gathering a park bench from the Gardens 2 kilometres away – dragging the seat under paining/paling moonlight for the ensuing day – the metal legs screeching on Granite and Concrete awaking half the city. The stall, which ingeniously sits on the mouth of my alleyway, simply serving water – with charges of $7.50 a glass. If people are prepared to pay up to $9 for a mixed glass of Red Bull and Vodka, then I’m sure if I called the Water, “Holy Water” or proclaimed it as being “Miracle Illness Curing”, I’d probably get a few number of interested customers.
As it seemed I wasn’t wrong. The sign seemed to interest everyone. Essentially, I spent most my day running back and forth from the tap. Attracting many Religious cohorts and Diabetic types – fascinated and more than willing to cover the charge of several glasses. Business was great, until an enraged Doctor of Indian background, ripped the cardboard sign from my table, threw the jug of water on the ground and repetitively jumped on the park bench up and down. Reaching the end of his fit, the Doctor, still pointing threateningly at me, cursing with his heavy accent incomprehensively fast stopped upon hitting a crescendo, then stormed off leaving me amidst a crowd of conned customers, all wanting to mutilate me (even the Religious cohorts) and demanding their money back.

Araman’s Net User Note: The Sign for the Motel I was passing advertises a free Internet connection for all its customers. Concluding logically that at least one room would be unlocked – the occupants bathing by the pool, or partaking in a game of tennis – I snuck in, (Room No. 23) accessed their Laptop (Uughh…a Notebook) and updated my Blog Entry.

Passing through an Alleyway, looking for weaknesses in buildings – I went about kicking bricks hoping to bring whole buildings down. I felt like doing some damage. Failing in all my attempts to do so – I decided that I would fully exhaust my energy out on a Cardboard box. It was much easier. I ended my day with eating a packet of Cashews while picking the fleas out from feasting on my inner thighs.

Araman’s Net User Note: Inquiring on the availability of certain Movie Titles in a Video Store, it got to the point where the Owner had looked up over 47 different titles for me – now indifferent, the owner adjusted the Monitor and Keyboard so I could look up any title at will – while pretending I was doing so – I posted this blog entry.

Today I went searching the streets for money. People drop all kinds of things but money is the most common. I can’t lie to you and say that if I found somebody’s wallet I would return it to the closest convenience store or inform the Police – I look upon wallets as one would look upon finding a lost heirloom, or discovering Gold in their backyard. Today I found something even better – well almost: A set of Car Keys. The bad thing is that, I found them right on the edge of a car park that accommodates over 800 cars – so if I was to get a spot of Sunday Driving done, I would have to act quick in finding the matching Car. I got to a stage where I was testing 4 cars a minute – at this state; it would take me nearly 3 and half hours to test them all. Unfortunately, in my deep state of concentration I failed to notice that a number of people were now watching me – and it was only until I placed the key into another random white vehicle – a Cop Car, that I at last I stopped. The Policeman instantly asked for an explanation, where I smartly replied: I parked my car here several hours ago, but I’ve forgotten which one was mine.

Araman’s Net User Note: Standing in the IT section of Harvey Norman, I’m updating this blog under the pretense that I’m a potential buyer (just checking the computer’s Internet Capabilities). Although I think the Staff have caught on, the manager will probably be here in any second.

After begging on the city streets all morning, using a cardboard sign and an empty 1 litre carton of milk – I finally had enough to afford a Cornetto. What didn’t surprise me, was that when I entered the Supermarket to ask for the Ice Cream – the checkout chick thought I was giving her cheek, so again I met security and was kicked out. Why you ask? Because Cornetto’s are one of the dearest Ice Creams on earth, and if I was in the Checkout Chicks position, I probably would of thought a Bum like me, asking for an Ice Cream such as a Cornetto was a joke too. For a Cornetto isn’t targeted at Hobo’s – really I should be aiming for a Calippo or a Paddle Pop. When people think Cornetto, generally they picture a well-built Metrosexual BMW driver, who plays soccer on the weekends and brushes 3 times a day.

Araman’s Net User Note: A TV Crew is underway filming an Ad for a Bowling Club. Moving in quietly while at a lunch break, I manage to steal their laptop, use their wireless Internet connection (update this blog), and tidy up their script and shot list while they were finishing up on their Tea and Biscuits.

I’ve never been able to comprehend why everyone simply stops walking upon entering an Escalator. It’s always been a source of irritation that I’ve had throughout all my life. Sitting on one of the Mall Benches located relatively close to the Pair of Escalators I took to shouting at everyone who simply stopped and waited, relying on the machine to do the distance for them. No doubt, there were some admirable people who preferred to walk, but for everyone one person who did it right, there would be another 5 would do it wrong, and simply stand. It got to a point where my voice was becoming coarse and I realised shouting was ineffective. I concluded that I would get my message across by pressing the Emergency Red Stop button. By flipping the glass case and pressing the button with my thumb, I caused the preceding 15 people on the moving steps above me to fall, smashing shopping bags and spectacles on the metal flooring of the steps below. High-tailing as quickly as possible, I was chased out by Security Guards with an elated feeling of accomplishment.

Araman’s Net User Note: Leaning over the edge of a building – reaching for the Laptop on the balcony below, I typed in this blog with the headpiece of a garden rake – while distracting it’s owner with cleaning up the remains of a dead cat I left on his doorstep, knock and running on his door to ingeniously type my blog from the roof above.

I walk the streets barefoot – for no shoes are able to fit me. If there is a time where I must cover my feet, newspaper, cardboard or even Tourist pamphlets will do – but of course, only on the rare occasion. It’s not the length of my feet, the discomfit my blisters cause me or that my toes grow out from both my heels, it’s that I haven’t clipped my toenails in over 4 years.

You can’t imagine the vast amount of awkward legal and social situations my toenails have put me in. The other day for example, I was standing in the cue at Centrelink, wondering to myself why nobody at all in the building was smiling. Really, by simply looking at it from a mathematical standpoint, the laws of Probability should have it that at least one other person be smiling. But No, this was not to be. Why? I’m not sure. I Certainly had reason to smile – I was here picking up my fortnightly benefit payment of $110 – and straight after that I’d be pissed, off my chops behind the Ridgey Didge Pie Shop, scuttling and clawing my way through their skip bin for any remnants of discarded pastry. Standing well behind the white line – waiting to be called forth by the Receptionist, a mother, making her way back from dropping her child in the play pen, tripped on the pinkie toenail of my left foot. There she fell straight in front of me - to fall on her armful of documents and pens, miraculously, somehow lodging one of her red bens halfway up her nostril. Initially I was shocked. It never looks good when I, or any homeless person is standing next to, or behind a person that has just fallen over spectacularly – people think that we were the ones to push them – purposely with malevolent intent. Upon viewing the pen halfway down her nose, my shock changed to amusement – I started laughing, (naturally, the only one in Centrelink to do so) and I started to realise that my laughter made me look like the one responsible for the situation.

The Police were called; I was interviewed but acquitted of any wrongdoing. I had witnesses. People saw the woman trip – which I was very lucky and thankful for. So I returned later that day to collect my Centrelink payment and got drunk behind the pie store as I had planned. Unfortunately I found no Pastry scraps.
Another awkward situation was the time I intended to open a bank account with the Commonwealth. On my way there, I followed a lady into the revolving doors of the bank – in an attempt to enter the same space of moving doorway as the woman, I accidentally clipped my nail firmly into the lower section of her dress – tearing it from her shoulders, causing her to scream and instinctively drop to the ground where we were both taken care of by the approaching glass pane behind us – two people, in what seemed a spinning jet engine. Needless to say, I passed up on getting the Bank Account.

Today I have actually payed to go online. I'm at an Internet cafe. I believe the Woman at the Counter finds me charming - allowing me to sit in my own little corner with my own rotating fan - blowing my manly stench into the nothingness of wall behind me. I like to keep up with what’s happening in the world. The net acts as a window into the many corners of life I usually cannot see – and every now and then I like to see how other great men and women in similar situations to my own are doing.

After searching I found this site - A terrible site. There is basically no formatting, no sense of a layout, colour or creativity. I’ve put more effort into blowing my nose, than the creator has to this site. I insist you look for yourself. I have also reason to believe that the people the pictures depicted are in fact not real, genuine hobos. I'd outdrink any of them - Give me the chance.

Araman's Net User Note: Broke into an elderly couples home - quite surprising that they have the internet here. I would of asked for some Biscuits and tried the next house if this was the case.

Here’s a truth for you. People who smoke have an easier time climbing at high altitudes because they have become accustomed to lower amounts of Oxygen in their life. The very same can be seen with a Homeless person. Because a homeless man is always exposed to Illnesses and disease’s in any one Urban society – they too have become accustomed and slightly resistant to common sicknesses. That’s why we smell funny – because were accustomed to being this way, and therefore, ignorant to it.

Araman’s Net User Note: Outside the open window of a Tax Accountant. I’m typing this blog by throwing small pebbles (at a distance of approximately a metre) onto the individual keys of a keyboard – so far, it’s taken me half and hour to write this much.

Last night, drinking again – Simon (a friend of mine) and I were talking about life - The Up’s and the downs. Simon declared that life was a beautiful thing – we’re lucky to be apart of it. I felt the complete opposite – look at the hand life dealt us – we’ve been bitten on the bum. The conversation progressed into how Simon comes to appreciate the world. How he looks at the subtleties of life and values them. A lot could be learnt from this attitude, I was told. So welcoming this new outlook – I decided that If it could help Simon, then it quite possibly could help me also.
I had made up my mind to watch the Sun Rise. I couldn’t think of anything as corny and clichéd as watching the rising of the sun and concluded that this must be one of the subtleties Simon was speaking of. As Night swung around, I made myself the pledge to get up early, before daybreak to watch sun’s progress into the cold morning air. My dilemma was that I had awoken the next morning in full daylight, 6 hours after..