Back From Tassieland

I'm back from the edge of the world beyond the edge of the world where I currently live ('the ledge beyond the edge' as Bill Hicks would say-- but he's dead so who cares what he would say). So much happened in just 40 hours: I ate some of the best meals of my life, met some incredible people, stabbed a fish in the head, dressed in drag, saw Silent Hill, went to tiny Tassie towns where we were definitely not welcome, heard the word 'cunt' more times than I could possibly count, kicked ass at trivial pursuit, hung around an abandoned convict coal mine, and drank. And drank. And drank. From breakfast to falling down, we drank. On the beach, in the boat, on the street, in a moat, all that Dr. Seuss shit. There were six of us total, and over the course of 40 hours we drank almost 100 beers, 4 bottles of liquor (3 gin, 1 rum), two bottles of wine, and a bottle of champagne.

As I can't really do the weekend justice, I'll stick to the basics and the essence of this blog: the drinking. Once I have time to process and frame the past few days, I may write a lengthy piece on it over at Innocent Abroad, which might be a nice change from disjointed poetry and barely coherent rants.

Ta.