My brain hurts.
My brain hurts.
This afternoon, while frequenting one of the many bars I frequent, I overheard the following statement uttered by a super trendy young woman playing pool with her noticeably less trendy friend.
“There were some real assholes in Footscray last night.”
Yes. I imagine there was. It is Footscray after all. I mean, it’s not Dandenong, or Frankston, but still…
I once saw a man randomly dive onto the bonnet of a car stopped in traffic and vomit onto the windshield in Footscray. At 11:00am on a Tuesday no less.
Good phở though.
*Edit – Not in a creepy stalker/abduction way. More like “I’m super pumped to see this talented and beautiful, reckless ingenue that I’ve been listening to for years perform live.”
My brain woke me up at 3:40am this morning to suggest that I should try writing fiction.
Then it wouldn’t let me back to sleep because it wanted to explore EVERY SINGLE POSSIBILITY.
Brain, man. I don’t even.
I loathe cooking and having to cook. Yet I’m totally into meal prepping.
Ed Sheehan is in my general proximity. And the only reaction that inspires is…
That video he did with the cat was kinda cool, also he completely ruined that one episode of Game of Thrones.
And I take that shit seriously.
It’s nice to walk into a place after a 2/3 year absence and not only be remembered but also be greeted with hugs, affection and a genuine concern that something untoward may have happened to you in the intervening years.
It’s the complete polar opposite of having the bouncers of a shitty bar in the Eastern suburbs vaguely remember that someone who kinda looks like you, but with longer hair and a worse attitude, was forcibly removed from their premises 4 years ago after a heated debate with bar staff regarding the pros/cons of their discretionary “cut off” policy.
Ubud, Bali > Dandenong, Australia. Who knew?
Also, let’s hear it for run on sentences!
For the last few days I have spent a vast majority of my time slowly sipping from a bottle of beer at a swim up bar in the tropical paradise that is Bali.
Tough gig I know.
As I’m sitting here people watching, as is my way, it slowly dawns on me that a great many of my fellow beer sipping compatriots have been sipping beer at this swim up bar for a great many hours.
All without ever leaving the pool.
This leads to a most interesting implication.
How many litres of this crystal clear water is actually liver distilled, beer infused urine?
Probably best not to think about it…