Cathouse

Another night in the Cathouse. This time a few of my ‘real world’ pals were out. It’s always strange to have the two worls collide, especially when you’re sober.

Oh yeah, sober. I couldn’t drink all that much because I was up (relatively) early the next day (i.e. today) to record a couple of tracks with the grungey three-piece band that I’m involved in – Closet Organ.

This guy was brilliant.

Spotting his white glasses, I told him he had good taste in spectacles, at least with regards to colour choice. He replied with the exact same response that I give when someone says a similar thing to me:

“They’re real. I need them to see!”

When I told him that mine were also primarily functional in purpose, he couldn’t quite believe it. We bonded over a shared sense of subtle frustration as he checked to confirm that they were indeed prescription.

I’ve been at the Cathouse so long now that there are people who would have been 14 and gone to the Unders that are now 18 and going to the overs.

I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.

My face doesn’t usually have this warped perspective. It’s the wide-angle. Honest.

What an awesome t-shirt.

Her skin photographs rather nicely.

I look more and more ginger as time goes on.

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