October 9, 2005
Yes I know it seems like I’m always hungover, but my girl-freind runs a bar….
I was sitting in a taxi with shitty air conditioning, trying to swat a mosquito that had already bitten me three times – once on the top of my right ear, once on the left ankle and once on the right thumb knuckle – the thumb knuckle I tell you – the audacity of fucker – right in front of my very eyes – after a while I was sure he was a highly trained assassin mosquito, sent by the gods of karma to fuck with me for laughing at a fat man who fell over yesterday.
The horn happy taxi driver was trying to swat the mozzie as well – that would normally be a problem if he was driving at the same time, but we had been sitting in a barely moving gridlocked trickle of mechanical monotony for a good 20 minutes and progress was slow - hindsight being a bitch as usual, I now wished we’d of waited for a more trustworthy blue bird cab instead - this god forsaken gibbon had taken us the long way round to bump the meter and now we were stuck as a result.
Two fire engines were also stuck - right behind us with lights flashing and sirens blaring – unlike other countries fire services whose sirens try and “mix it up a bit”, Indonesian fire engines just make a continuous high pitched squealing sound – they had been there for a while now – my taxi driver was either stone deaf or had balls of steel, as he wasn’t making any obvious attempts to cut into to the inside lane and let them move up a notch - I guess it’s a case of fuck the burning masses with traffic as bad as this.
Yuni was asleep in my lap – oblivious to the heat, the mosquitoes, the frustrating gridlock and the squealing sirens – instead of thinking how beautifully peaceful she looked, all that crossed my mind was that her head was surprisingly heavy.
We had both just come from watching the Corpse Bride – a film that I took her to see as I thought she actually wanted to watch it – I later found out she slept through the film - I had also nodded off intermittently - wishing the damn stick people would stop fucking singing so much and that the kid next to me I gave my pop corn to would stop tapping me on the arm to offer me the popcorn I had just given him – I DON’T WANT THE FUCKING POPCORN THAT IS WHY I GAVE IT TO YOU.
Incidentally the film is indeed very clever, but ultimately it is for children and not angry hot and bothered hungover people who have not had enough sleep.
Before the Corpse Bride we had once again turned up on the steps of the Intercontinental for the brunch – both of us looking decidedly dishevelled in that baked, baggy, perplexed by everything, kind of way – ‘here are those two alcoholic stop outs that take advantage of our exuberant champagne pouring nature and eat all our sushi” thought the welcoming staff.
What they thought when they found evidence in the washroom of my upchucking of the first three courses, I don’t know – we left with me feeling far from Golden muttering about wanting to be shot.
Once Yuni had been dropped at work and taxi gibbon had felt he had run the meter up sufficiently to now take me to where I wanted to go, I picked my car up from the Kristal hotel and drove back to my haven of loaf. On the way I listened to a purchased earlier in the day CD by a band named McLuskey – I noticed the disc due to fact that they called their album “The difference between me and you is that I’m not on fire” which created an image that made me laugh at the time.
I’d asked if I could listen first, but they didn’t want to open the packaging – not in the mood for arguing the point, I was swayed by the recommendation from a sassy hip looking cashier girl who had a tongue stud and a carnivorous eye - I reasoned that if I didn’t buy it, I’d disappoint her - and then the very distant % chance of us one day sleeping together would be reduced – I’m shallow like this when I’m hungover sometimes – and if I’m honest, it’s the same reasoning behind why I let women drivers out of T-junctions during heavy traffic too.
Anyways actually listening to the songs on McLuskeys album is without a doubt one of the worst things to ever happen to me – it’s cacophonic noise from the depths of hell – it’s like they have thrown a bunch of frying pans off a cliff and recorded the effect of them bouncing off the rocks for backing to a bunch of screaming drunk people – when I got home I frisbee’d the CD off the balcony – no doubt it will probably find a way to come back and haunt me.
And then I poured a glass of orange and ants found it and then I drank them by accident - no doubt they will probably find a way to come back and haunt me too.
Jakarta life is really testing my will to live at the moment – I’m gonna throw in the towel and go to bed early – no doubt it’ll prove to be the only sensible decision I’ll have made all day.
Spo | October 9, 2005
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