adventures of a little old christian

Last night I sang.
I sang like a goddam stewardess who is on her first flight as cabin crew manager and spittles into her microphone, while it creaks and breathes.

I drank; I drank a load of plum wine and was very pleased that it was ever thought of.

We sang karaoke, with bad videos that made me want to spew- with nineties camel toes, with ugly models who perpetually touched themselves, with couples splashing in fountains and smelling roses, with loads of old white people wandering around aimlessly in gardens and on beaches.

(Highlights of the night include moaning to; Everybody- Backstreet Boys, Satisfaction- Rolling Stones, Sweet Caroline – Neil Diamond, Get It ON- Trex, and watching my friends try to reach the high notes of Sweet Child o mine)

Hooray for large displays of extravagant attention seeking therapy, and drunken exploits.

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They were filming a Stephen King film in Princes Park this morning, and as I was waiting for the tram I saw them carefully and tediously place large bunches of lichen-ey brownish hair on the bridge. Very interesting… I’m not a reader of Mr King’s work but I wouldn’t mind imagining what creature will lurk from the depths in the night…

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Sometimes when I’m drawing (that’s what I do allll day) on the computer and I am multi tasking I paste something in and it happens to be a line that I may have used in an email or whilst blog-ing. I was just drawing and I pasted in big text all over a roof plan, “ ‘ill have to be a bit more "private, sensitive...(and) anxious’ ”.

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Its going to be sunny for the rest of the week and I am glad, but I am also glad that there has been some rainy solace from my hot little soul last week. As the lady who is the receptionist for the fundamental Christians that have an office downstairs said in the lift this morning, in a little short and croaky voice,

“ooo its lovely to have some cool weath-er”