Wednesday, 6 October 2010
I will now chew my vegemite toast vigorously
The taxi driver smelt like penis but he drove me home so my feet could be silent. Earlier this evening I caught the bus to Glebe. I hate Glebe but I went anyway because Geoff Lemon was doing a spoken word gig at the Friend in Hand. I don't hate Geoff Lemon, not yet.
Geoff performed admirably but offstage he was incoherent with jet lag and exhaustion so I wandered over to Spencer's house and yelled about the internal violence of words. Spencer deserves some kind of medal, in fact he proposed that someone should pay him money for being my 'keeping it real person'. I'm not entirely sure what that job would entail, I assume part of the role is to sit with me in a cafe while I yell about things and accidentally knock over water glasses and ashtrays.
Spencer has a habit of keeping large pieces of folded paper about his person. He will produce one from time to time and let me read over whatever he is working on. There is no greater privilege than seeing a song half-written, before even the song itself is sure of what it should sound like. Though perhaps I would like to rifle through another writer's desk. Uncurl the edges of all of those bits of paper and watch the words crawling towards each other, in the way that words on curled bits of paper do.
After the spoken word gig, after giving up on the possibility of having anything within the realms of a normal conversation with the valiant but sagging Geoff. After walking through the backstreets of Glebe where my feet flashed like imaginary fish and I remembered most of yesterday in slow motion. After Spencer came out of his gate and talked with me about the violence of words, and the taxi driver who smelt like penis, I made two pieces of toast. Spring is the best season for the vigorous chewing of toast, it has none of winter's demands for warm cups and the laying on of blankets.
In other news if you search using the words 'age of adz review', my review is the first result. In your face other people without toast. In your toastless face, is what I would say if I was that way inclined but I'm not so forget about it.