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Black humour when the deceased is known to those in the vehicle hurtling at the speed limit falls to an awkward reception. Hurtling down the freeway with time already having escaped one party and soon to bypass another. Scheduled for a one p.m. service, traffic and an ear full of soapy lather in a library of incense added much to the urgency. The premise of dying on the way to a memorial service never really entered into the minds of the occupants of that car. With fifteen minutes into the proceedings, the nondescript Macarthur Christian Life Centre was spotted and in entered four more known to the deceased.
Upon the stage the pastor or such halted for a second to register the latecomers. Many seats of the auditorium were filled with friends and family, the inner section mostly with those under thirty and the flanks with those over. Projected up there on the screen, right of the stage, Joseph Flores, Jr., the Marine. American Joe to some, Joey Joe Joe to others. Other names ever more so. Joe dead body was nowhere in sight. An expectation of an affair similar to a wake leading to that assumption. On a table just beside the steps to the stage were a few mementos, a Letterman jacket, an American flag and a Pizza Hut uniform among others.
Rest of the review of Memorial Service for Joseph Flores, Jr. - Macarthur Christian Life Centre - 19/06/04
Years have passed since the last outing into the Australian Museum in Sydney. One thing was certain, if the St. James train station was at the front of Hyde Park, it was somewhere around the back. Spotting a gothic building with spires and people walking in and out of the doors, it was only when I was nearly clipped by a car that I realised I was walking up to St. Joseph's or Mary's college. Next to the college was the aquatic+fitness centre and some skaters. On the next block was a huge building with australian museum in nice sans serif font. Leeched onto the facade of the museum was scaffolding like that of years ago. Construction started then was still going and gave the building a feeling of archaic desperation.
A huge banner outside the footsteps leading in declared that the Two Emperor's exhibition was being extended for another two weeks. This was the reason I was there to pay a visit to the Old Museum. And pay for the visit I did, not like the previous time where everyone just walked in for the open day. Still managing to milk my "invalid" student card I got a concession and instead of forking over $23 for the experience, only had to hand over $10. Two admissions for the price of one.
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