I have it from two separate sources this week that women outnumber men in this city by a ratio of around four to one. This knowledge, combined with the rejection slip from Asialink, puts me in a rather dejected state of mind. Why can't i get ahold of two or three. Then a friend, who shall remain anonymous, calls me on a Friday night because he's picked up two women at the Brisbane Hotel, and asks if i wish to accompany them all on a jolly jaunt to Fremantle. I'm at a party somewhere in the wilds of North Perth. The anonymous drug dealer who dropped me there (the anonymous people in this week's blog outnumbering the nonymous by a ratio of around four to one), who is currently on remand, has taken off in his borrowed (and promptly crashed) car to wreak more havoc upon the unsuspecting city. So i am slightly immobilised, particularly after dropping a full bottle of Coopers right smack on the end of my second toe. The party, at least, is still kicking. Whilst ostensibly engaged in scintillating conversation with Josef, i am mindful of the blonde siamese twins, Elle and Janelle, wriggling about in each others laps like drunken competitors in a game of musical chairs. It's a bit distracting. Then i get a text from my anonymous friend: "I have decided to go with plan A." Hmm. Quite obviously, Plan A is a drug-fucked threesome in a seedy motel room somewhere in Fremantle. So i stick around with Josef and, of course, Safari Bob, and get, of course, steadily shihtzu faced.
Asialink thanked me for the quality of my arts application (to spend three months in Bangalore with $12,000 of taxpayers' money) and encouraged me to reapply, saying my application could have been viable in different competition. Well, obviously. Particulary if the hypothetical "different competition" consisted of imbecilic, talentless morons. That would have made my application much more viable. But it was not to be. More reason to be shihtzu faced.
I did however discover that not all rejectees received these cheery words of encouragement from Asialink. An anonymous friend also received a rejection letter, but with no encouragement whatsoever. While it didn't exactly say go hang yourself, for a highly strung artist in a fragile state of mind ... well, things could have quite easily become even more highly strung, if you know what i mean ...
[insert animated gif of Art Director tapping side of nose here]
Coming out of the bathroom i run into siamese twins Elle and Janelle, about to enter, and suddenly have an idea of such startling clarity, it's like a vision. "I want you to have my child," i blurt out. I receive the usual response, incredulity mingled with contempt. "Oh Maa-aark," they bemoan in a united protest. I shake my drunken head. "No, no, you don't understand ... he's turning twenty-one this month and it would make the ideal gift - " but the Twins have disappeared into the bathroom, to do whatever it is blonde girls do in bathrooms.
Party ends as party does. I go home to find Jo19 is even more depressed than me, if such a thing is possible. Another argument with his anonymous. I won't disclose details, other than to say it seemed to involve the wastage of a perfectly good drink. Well, you've still got me. And the dog, i say cheerily. Jo19 is singularly unimpressed.
Good things never last, and i will soon be abandoning Jo19 to Hunter S. Thompson the dog, and going to make my fortune in the world. Things are afoot. Sunken treasure and pirates. Lawyers with islands, populated by palm trees and slaves. Turkish bakeries on the southern frontiers. More on these developments as they come to hand.
Meanwhile, the Perthites can keep their twisted little sex ratios. I'm leaving. And i'm taking my toys with me.
"Things never get better, only cheaper." - Art Director.