Oh hey. Hey you. Check you out. Looking so fine. Those delicate legs. That soft skin. Your cracked and leathery wings unfurling from behind. Those mottled cloven hooves pawing at the ground. Those threshing tentacles glistening in the moonlight. You don't know what you're doing to me. Ooh. Ooh yeah.
Right, now that my regular introduction, which I do every post, is out of the way, we can begin...
I've been asleep. I couldn't keep my eyes open when I got back from Missy's birthday. Could not do it. Four hours sleep and then a bar shift and then socialising all evening is not conducive to writing a blog post.
But it was a happy night. I met Fran off a sweltering rush-hour bus and we walked up to Missy and Jake's together. Missy was inside with their new puppy, Hagrid, making sure he wasn't overwhelmed by all the people. Jake and the boys were lolling in the garden. One of our friends, who struggles to sleep and suffers night terrors, was passed out on the lawn. Jake said that the friend often comes round to snooze, and I wasn't surprised: there is something about Missy and Jake's that puts you at ease. I could have gone for some of those sweet, sweet zees myself. Or, as we call them over here, those sweet, sweet zeds.
We found what we thought was an exhausted bee in the grass so we tried to coax it back to life with sugar water, and left a shot of the stuff beside our sleeping friend for good measure. Turned out the bee wasn't exhausted, but dead, which is more difficult to heal with sugar water, although our friend did eventually come around.
We lazed in the last of the sun and chatted. I talked with Cieran about filmmaking and Caspar Noé and Brechtian drama, most of which was Cieran, and about the indie horror It Follows, which I eruditely described as "kind of about death, sort of." I'm great at film criticism.
I got talking to Missy's friend Tom, who I've not spoken to much before, and he suggested a study of everyday life in Britain that's been running since the '50s that I might be interested in, and we made friends on Facebook, and he sent me a link to a cool looking podcast. I like Tom.
And Missy kept wringing her hands asking everyone if they were having a good time, saying she was too anxious to enjoy her birthday because she was worried we weren't having a good time. Were we having a good time? How were we feeling?
I said that I was feeling a bit badgered, to be honest, with all these questions as to whether I was having a good time or not. Completely ruining my night, truth be told.
Ohhhhh, Missy said.
Then she had a bucks fizz and got drunk and became sassy, for a change.
I sat with Jake and talked about games consoles that were, games consoles that are, and some games consoles that have not yet come to pass. And other things. But mostly video games.
And it was all nice. I didn't drink. I came home at 10:30 p.m. I felt a touch of social awkwardness here and there, as is my wont, but I didn't let it spoil my night. And I didn't turn to alcohol to mask it and end up ruining my day tomorrow.
Speaking of which, I really need to go back to bed and get some sleep before my shift. If you're up before me, just leave a sugar water by my pillow. I'll be up and buzzing again in no time.
Ta ra x
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