I really should be sleeping. I have a big day tomorrow, I think. The plan is to wake up early enough to join the APEC protest then wander about a bit in downtown East Berlin Sydney wondering at the walls and the sudden spread of Jeffrey Smart aesthetic before coming home and having a disco nap. I need the disco nap in order to spend the entire evening at the Sydney Underground Film Festival as a secret Dale S Thompson style person. This is Plan A.
Plan B is more fluid and involves eating things whilst in pyjamas. Walking up King St to fetch the newspaper, having coffee and wishing for cakes (fecking veganism) buying a second hand copy of Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas and walking around in aviators pretending to be Hunter S Thompson. Go to film festival.
Plan C. Stay in bed until feel like making coffee. Mooch about, wear aviators and pretend to be Hunter S Thompson. Walk to cafe and order fifty eight coffees and some toast. Feel slightly ill. Go to film festival.
Plan D. Go to cafe via newsagent. Buy paper and eat some sort of shite vegan cafe food wearing huge sunglasses and repeatedly saying "A dingo stole my baby" in a bad Meryl Streep voice. Go to film festival.
As you can see all plans involve going to the film festival. I am a very dedicated secret Dale S Thompson style of person. I have been given free reign to write whatever I like about the film festival and it will appear, as if by magic, on Snuffbox Films. Free reign is very exciting. It means that I can do whatever I like, that makes me The Captain of Snuffbox Films, sort of, in a small and temporary vicarious way. I could potentially write something only about my left sneaker, I'll have to wait and see what happens.
My name is going to be on the door. I love it when that happens. I don't care what it is if my name is on the door I'll be there. This is how I misspent much of my youth at dance parties, in clubs and at underground hip hop events. There was a time when all my friends were djs. I am well into rambling mode and may as well continue.
Newtown was a ghost town this evening. There was not one interesting thing to distract me from my dire tofu wrap at burgerlicious. It was a mean door of a slab of tofu, not in any way burgerlicious. The streets were cold and empty. I didn't even have any sorbet. The only redeeming feature was the toffee apple cocktail in Kulettos. My favourite part of that particular cocktail is to use two straws like chopsticks and extract the cherries from the bottom of the glass in a natty and dexterous way before sucking the delicious sticky drink from them, dropping them back in the glass and repeating the whole process.
The Spatula and I dropped in on a friend who excitingly live across the road from Tim Friedman. The exciting part is that The Spatula is gaga for him and has a tendency to go all funny and try to peer in his windows. I personally think that no matter what happens he will never ever be an aging rocker. She even went so far as to say that I would be better off marrying someone like him rather than an aging rocker which is clearly wrong and a little bit sick making. If The Spatula marries him then maybe I will visit once in a while and have a cup of tea but I wear a disguise and make sure that no one sees me.
Plan B is more fluid and involves eating things whilst in pyjamas. Walking up King St to fetch the newspaper, having coffee and wishing for cakes (fecking veganism) buying a second hand copy of Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas and walking around in aviators pretending to be Hunter S Thompson. Go to film festival.
Plan C. Stay in bed until feel like making coffee. Mooch about, wear aviators and pretend to be Hunter S Thompson. Walk to cafe and order fifty eight coffees and some toast. Feel slightly ill. Go to film festival.
Plan D. Go to cafe via newsagent. Buy paper and eat some sort of shite vegan cafe food wearing huge sunglasses and repeatedly saying "A dingo stole my baby" in a bad Meryl Streep voice. Go to film festival.
As you can see all plans involve going to the film festival. I am a very dedicated secret Dale S Thompson style of person. I have been given free reign to write whatever I like about the film festival and it will appear, as if by magic, on Snuffbox Films. Free reign is very exciting. It means that I can do whatever I like, that makes me The Captain of Snuffbox Films, sort of, in a small and temporary vicarious way. I could potentially write something only about my left sneaker, I'll have to wait and see what happens.
My name is going to be on the door. I love it when that happens. I don't care what it is if my name is on the door I'll be there. This is how I misspent much of my youth at dance parties, in clubs and at underground hip hop events. There was a time when all my friends were djs. I am well into rambling mode and may as well continue.
Newtown was a ghost town this evening. There was not one interesting thing to distract me from my dire tofu wrap at burgerlicious. It was a mean door of a slab of tofu, not in any way burgerlicious. The streets were cold and empty. I didn't even have any sorbet. The only redeeming feature was the toffee apple cocktail in Kulettos. My favourite part of that particular cocktail is to use two straws like chopsticks and extract the cherries from the bottom of the glass in a natty and dexterous way before sucking the delicious sticky drink from them, dropping them back in the glass and repeating the whole process.
The Spatula and I dropped in on a friend who excitingly live across the road from Tim Friedman. The exciting part is that The Spatula is gaga for him and has a tendency to go all funny and try to peer in his windows. I personally think that no matter what happens he will never ever be an aging rocker. She even went so far as to say that I would be better off marrying someone like him rather than an aging rocker which is clearly wrong and a little bit sick making. If The Spatula marries him then maybe I will visit once in a while and have a cup of tea but I wear a disguise and make sure that no one sees me.
Comments
You are right - he will never be an ageing rocker, just ageing.
Yes the Spatula knows her mind and will tell you so. Its a good thing, but best to not take it personally, unless the beginning comment coming from you was yours and not a passed on topic.
didnt know the friedman infatuation.
hmmm