I'm not sure how long I have been drunk for. It's been a few days. Two gigs in a row and both days I pretty much shat into the microphone in front of a hundred people. My nurse-friend (she's so, so pretty) thinks it's laryngitis, but I'm inclined to think the absolute worst. On Saturday I played at the Rosemount and a girl whose name I can't pronounce told me that the best cure for a sore throat when you need to sing is black sambucca, not whiskey, so I thought I'd cover all bases and surrounded myself on stage with red wine, jamesons and black sambucca. My only memory is gargling whiskey on stage and the remainder is rather a blur, so to speak. My friend Lake said that I was singing a chorus and when it came to the part where I repeat it, I just said "etcetera, ecetera!". That's kind of funny. I wonder if the audience shared my humour.
So I did some research, and learned that heaps of super-amazing singers have had surgery for nodules. So it doesn't mean I'm a bad singer, it just means that I am loud...a lot. That's comforting but if I take a break everything will turn to rubbish. It's all about momentum!
Ohhh frig I think I have a 90's dance compilation injury. And someone dropped a gin bottle on my foot and now there is a bruise. I'm really interested in the life cycles of bruises. The way they change colour, it's so fascinating. I like the reddish purple of day 2, but am not so fond of the yellowy end. The exception of course, is hickeys, which are abominable.
There was a keg made out of a giant bin. I saw a dude that I had an ENORMOUS crush on a few months ago and I like to think that my behaviour was icy, but mature. Like...something made of ice that isn't freezing your nuts enough to hurt you, just make you aware that the possibility exists so you've gotta rug up.
I'm going to lay down and attempt to refrain from speaking for a whole day. I'm thinking about narwhals again.
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