Sunday, October 28, 2001
If I were to ever write a self help book, it might go a little something like this:
The Good Geeks Guide to the Weekend
Chapter One: Raving sans pills & booze
Tip #1: Dance like nobody's watching.
Tip #2: Don't even try to make phone calls.
Oh. My. God. What a night; I haven't done an all-nighter in ages & doubt I'd have been able to if I'd been drinking. L1, O1 and I got to Stomp around 2230, then had to cue for 20 minutes. It's all good tho, 'cos we got in just in time for 'On Inc', which was the main reason for being there, well, for L1 anyways as she knows them. They went off! Definitely tracking down their CD's. I don't know how many thousand attended, but it was damn big. We wandered between three performance areas & stuck our head in the Top 40 disco for a few minutes, but it was jock-central so not really appealing. Lots of text messaging and attempts at phone calls, but only managed to find one group of friends towards the end of the night and didn't find the others. So after much guarana-fueled dancing, a few drinks & much hugging we joined the line for a taxi home. That was at about 0400 I think, and I managed to get a few hours sleep (still had the guarana running through the system) at about 0500.
Chapter Two: OPP - Other Peoples Parties
Tip #1: Any trouble taken to prepare for someone elses party will inevitably be negated by outside influences.
Tip #2: If a girl sticks a glass under your nose and says "Sip this" and it tastes like petrol, stop drinking.
Tip #3: Ignore the workplace hanger-on; Learn a meditation technique to ignore his girlfriend.
Spent Saturday afternoon having coffee with L1 and T2 in Green Square, then at my place playing Scrabble and making up compilation tapes for the party-hosting boys. Gave myself about an hour to shower, dress then apply all the white/grey makeup to my face for a 'cold on the slab' look and some cool congealing fake blood to the bite marks on the neck. Very glad I'm a guy & dont have to do this put-on scrub-off routine on a daily basis.
Tried to skate over to Bartonia to share a cab with that crew, but five metres down the road and an unseen rock sees the board stop & momentum keep me going, complete with sprained ankle (but thankfully the CC Clubs retain glass integrity). Manage to stumble over & get to the party some time between 2030 and 2100.
Arrive at party and deliver music to one of the hosts. Mingle. Notice crowd is liking the Jamiroquai mix that's been turned down to be audible but not necessitate shouting for conversation with subconcious head bobbing, feet and hand tapping. Pleased with effort. Didn't count on Miss 'heroin-addicts-are-the-only-interesting-people-in-Canberra'-death-metal-punk-futile-political-statement-where-you-can't-hear-the-lyrics-thrash-music-political-activist' ruining the good vibe the party had because she'd "brought (her) own music".
Fixed that, but the good vibe had definately assumed the position & been done. TJ to the rescue with some block-rocking beats and mad faux-breakdancing. The crowd happy vibe was back, even if it was just laughing at the party clown. Dancing returns to the lounge / dancefloor. All is well.
Then, against all good judgement, I begin mixing drinks. With a few CC Clubs left to drink, I opt to go with TJ's uber-G&T's. Then L2 and I fall back into our long-running "Here taste this..." routine. Big mistake.
I don't remember what time I got home. Thankfully in whatever state I was in, I remembered to shower & get the makeup off.
Chapter Three: It's not chemistry; it's corporate policy, idiot
I have a level 3 hangover; that's ok, because I subsequently find out that L2 is somewhere between level 5 and 6.
Get up around lunch time & wander down to the bakery for some recovery sausage rolls, the sunday paper and lemonade. On the way home stop off at the video shop for something to make me laugh. Choose "Get Shorty"; really wanted Robin Williams' "An Evening At The Met" show, but couldn't find it. Current object of affection is behind the counter. Chat friendly-like continuing the fortnightly conversation that's been running for a few months now. Almost ask her to lunch (again), but don't. Come home, think "what the hell's wrong with me?" and go back. Get to the top of the street, turn the corner & see her with the guy who entered the shop just as we'd finished talking about uni exams & saying 'see ya next time'; I knew I'd seen him before. To add insult to disappointment the Dilbert cartoon in today's Canberra Times hits close to home. Seriously have to find a new modus operandi.
Came home, slept through movie then put on a stand-up tape compiled when I had foxtel back in Brisbane. Fell asleep again & woke up to the man, Bill Hicks:
How about a positive LSD story, that would be newsworthy. Don't you think? Anybody think that? Just once, to hear a positive LSD story. "Today, a young man on acid, realised that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration. That we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves... here's Tom with the weather."
Chapter Four: Dealing with your shit - Forget therapy, ridicule
I feel better now, what's for dinner?
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