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Pigeons congregate on a rooftop across the street, and the Australian ponders what diseases they carry, the subtleties of their social order, and how exactly they achieve sexual intercourse. Day after day, he is unable to focus on the neon river of information that flows from his computer screen-Dow Jones, NASDAQ, symbols, numbers. She reminds him of the heartless provocateur who took tickets at the public pool in the seaside town where he spent his childhood summers, who flaunted her tremendous breasts and treated the Australian with what he perceived to be hostile indifference.
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As he wraps his right arm around a group of Irish tourists, and as they cram themselves into his sweat-stained armpit, and as he flexes his left bicep, round and stiff as an apple, the Australian thinks: I will be a rich man.Īfter graduation, the Australian moves to New York to work on Wall Street, but right off the bat, he can't stand his boss. Then, one sunny Friday morning during his last month of schooling, he suddenly acquires for the first time a distinct ambition. They take conscious effort for the Australian to discern-and why bother? His head is filled with sunlight, cricket, mischief, girls. But these misfortunes are deep in the background, monotonous as a refrigerator's electric hum. He never had a father, and while his mother means well, her ceaseless affection is like an ill-fitting homemade sweater, all itch and chafe. This is not to say that the Australian's life has been without adversity. All his life, he has been indiscriminate with his enthusiasm, invincible within the hedonistic splendor of the present moment, like some kind of inverted Buddha. He smiles widely, his teeth luminous, his canines threatening. He is smart-smart enough to know when effort is absolutely required and when he can fake it-and he is handsome, with chiseled abdominal muscles underneath the chiseled abdominal muscles of his costume. Radios across his nation have been playing a song that goes, "I've got the brains, you've got the looks, let's make lots of money." In his mind, the Australian is both of the people in the song. Novelty, sex object, comic relief-it is all good. On the streets of Melbourne, the Australian parades around dressed as Superman, paying his way through university by posing for photos, conscious of the bulge of his cock.