As Long As I'm Hellbound Anyway
2 April 1999
Jesus is dead. Let's party.
8:53 PM: Well that was pretty amazing, eh? I wonder if I could hire Lucy to take over on weekends. You realize, of course, that I have to get a red bathrobe now. Not a Star Trek one though. Lines must be drawn.
So! Mozilla.party, yes yes. As a party, I suppose it was OK. I'm not enough of a party type to rate one with confidence. There was a very San Francisco dance troupe band thing, with goth style singing and girls with weird hairdos, and they jumped around and juggled fire. It was neat if you were in a tolerant mood. Saw a few people I knew here and there, wandered around mostly, people watching, listening to the music.
I'd really quite forgotten what it was like to spend the evening drinking bourbon & cokes, though. Wheee. One forgets one's self, you see. Although I did catch a few glimpses in a mirror now and then, and it was quite a shock. Who the hell is that fat-faced old blond guy? But liberating, in a way, too. Because ... it was all a world that I used to want to fit into desperately, and now that it's really quite clearly out of reach, it feels easier to just watch it wander by. I only danced once before escaping, though. Thank god. What if someone I knew had seen me?
Then went over to another club that was having a night of 1980s music, ended up staying and dancing until 3. That was fun. Didn't even let on to anyone that I was a Serbian refugee, or the inventor of a terrible new disease that would kill us all, or any other drunken hallucination. Reality, what is that, it's a mixer, right? Yaii aii.
Which is why although yes it was fun, I still can't decide if I really want to go clubbing again tonight, or ever. That being known, being seen bit. Mmmm, ham sandwich. When in doubt, immediate oral gratification. Absolutely. Cigarette?
And I do want to see The Matrix dagnab it.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
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The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.