Cheap thrills, y'all!
Spent a small portion of this afternoon on the phone to Mitch, who is settling in over yonder in Perth. He told me of his exploits the night before, that he's looking for a place to live. I told him about Linc's gig. He's got a job at a rad prohibition-themed bar, I'm not nauseous every morning anymore. Wins all round! He was on the phone whilst driving, and so our conversation was peppered with shouted abuse at fellow drivers, as well as cackles of laughter as he swerved onto the footpath to attempt to run over Steno, his partner-in-crime.
Speaking to him brought not only the lulz, but a certain amount of sunshine and cheer that was lacking as the day wore on. While we were separated for a long time while he was in Ireland, then when I was all over and around Europe, it seems that now that he's in Perth, being apart from him is at it's most sucky.
|New shoes, new beard.|
When I got back, I took a "wilderness sabbatical" to Geelong, to spend a couple of days with Mittens. Recharging, getting over jet-lag, watching a few films, sitting in the sun. Maybe doing a bit of sulking about being back, but that's okay. The shock of being back took far longer than I expected to adjust to. Wondering "what now?" and "...should I want a proper job?"
Luckily, hanging out in good old G-town while the boys got themselves prepared for the road trip to Perth made all back-home anxiety completely dissipate, at least for a couple of days. We spoke of potential scripts, of insane plans, of various conquests we each managed to notch up during our time apart. I also spent almost the entire time wearing a sleeping bag suit. Which is rad, I think, in anyone's book.
No McConnaughey-ing the night away, or Michael Bay marathons, at least for a while.