Business was taken care of today in a frenzied manner-- doctor's visit which culminated in a prescription for Doxycycline; shopping for the imminent trip and finding nothing Susan requested except Oreos (thank Christ I found those); fake packing to test Lauren's duffel bag (so far so good); lunch; nap; writing; first dinner; second dinner (Mickey-Dee's! Woo!); poetry reading with free wine and decent talent(Peter Goldsworthy and Aidan Coleman especially). I must stop the flow here to announce a new milestone in ridiculousness: a gay dude tried to pick me up. Really tried. In the most awkward fashion imaginable.
Situation: I'm standing with Martina and Naomi during the intermission when this dude tries to walk past. I step back and he stops and just stares at me, kinda smiling. Martina plays the worst wing-woman ever and turns away, leaving me to this awkward young man who goes, with the grace of T-Rex on acid "Soooo, do you study linguistics too?" To which I responded, after looking around at the dingy little room we were in with the raised stage and a crowd of destitute people dressed in black, "We're at a fucking poetry reading-- why would you think I study linguistics?" He then hemmed and hawed with small talk before walking away. A minute later he was back with "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so secretive, I don't study linguistics either. I study psychology." I just shrugged and tried to look away, then he asked (I shit you not), "Soooo, are you from around here?" I couldn't hide my contempt. Dude heard me clearly talk, it should be god damn obvious I'm from nowhere near this city, this state, this continent, this hemisphere. I told him I was just studying here and he asked "who with?" meaning what program or institution, but I seized on the opportunity to go "with her" pointing to Martina. Thankfully, Ken started up the second half of the ceremony and I was freed. What the hell??? AND a woman in Woolie's this morning guessed that I was 17. CUNT!
Afterwards: Chapelle's Show and wine with the neighbs, then I finished and posted the next two segments in the lecture series of why Australians have sucky taste in music here since I realized that Eric Martin having a girlfriend will now completely remove him from the world of giving a shit about "our" "music" "blog". Since it can hardly be called any of those three things, I put them all in quotes.
Drink Count: 7
Wine tour pictures-- a full 'left as it was when the dude died 100 years ago' blacksmith. That's Colleen on the right, and the New Zealander (forgot his name already) on the left, who was the spittiest talker I've ever met:
Happy friends at the first winery of the day:
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