Amazing. Robbie Williams has this pop promo where his dick is manifested in the form of a snake, and it escapes from the back of his arse and attempts to penetrate fantastically tattooed cheerleaders. That aside, I really am going to go quite mad.
I’ve finally managed to finish phrase 1 of this scrap book I’m making. Its filled with some of the most amazing nonsense I’ve come across since… three months ago, and I’ll be leaving it at the Book Café (it’s at the end of Mohammed Sultan Road, opposite the Gallery Hotel, I’ll put in more details after I’ve actually finished it) along with some markers for people to fill it up. It should be quite an interesting experiment, maybe it’ll take off and other people will start making their own.
Richard and I went out to do something quite mad yesterday, and I’m still not calmed down from the madness. By the end of it, my nerves were totally frayed, and as much as I would like to Not Give A Shit, sometimes you can’t help but be affected by people looking on at you. Especially if you’re dressed in a school blouse and skirt and posing as a pre-teen delinquent cutting up her uniform on the beach. No one bothered us for quite a long time, until the sun was about to set and this couple possibly from the more Hilly-Billy bits of the UK marched up to us with their two children (2 and 4 respectively, I can safely assume) and said, ‘Do you know the implications of what you are doing?. And Richard told them to fuck off, because it was getting late and it was high time their kids went to bed anyway.
Then they went, ‘Oh, we know the guy that runs the bar over there’
Uh. So. The beach isn’t his, and we all have a right to mind our own business. Besides, your kids are too young to understand nuts, people take everything too seriously, and as much as we would like to believe what we did would have vast implications on society and social morality, the truth is, its not going to happen. It’s our way of amusing ourselves on a Sunday evening, along with getting photos done for entertainment’s sake.
We got down to the bar after that on an invite from some stranger we didn’t know who was a photographer from Paris and looking to locate in New York (God knows what kind of photographs he makes, but there aren’t many photographers that really interest me. And sometimes I wonder if some of them just drop names like ‘Paris’ and ‘London’ and ‘LA’ just for the heck of it. I don’t know, I don’t suppose it matters.
Of course when we finally got tired of dancing about and watching two blokes clearly high on some nonsense –at least we think they were, they might equally well Just Be Mad- we couldn’t get out of Island Hell. I had to call Tori to take a cab down to rescue our asses, and it was so god-awfully dark and lonely and boring waiting for the cab that we decided to fuck behind the cars. We only got as far as getting Alice licked before a couple of blokes came by. I was too drunk to feel embarrassed.
Tori turned up with two of her soon to be senior high girl-friends (dykes, for certain) and we made it to our place. And I don’t recall much, but I was kinda drunk, suffering from the munchies, and getting Tori to look at some cool books I had just bought, while wandering around the apartment in my knickers and stuffing my face with toast.
It was quite an evening. By A didn’t attempt to snog me this time round, and I swear, I had quite enough of being a pervert for the day (pretending to be a silly patient going for a medical check-up in the morning –I don’t recall many episodes of having sex with R that didn’t partly involve some bits of role-playing, it is really ridiculous when you’re not having sex, but I can’t help it-) delinquent, exhibitionist school girl in the evening, satiating my need for public schtupping. An under aged lesbian orgy really wasn’t the way I needed to end the day. So.
My GOD. My brains are fried. So much to do.
Henry’s just called me :D And he’s going to email me the next set of questions for my ask Izzy page in FHM. And I KNOW the pictures aren’t fantastic, but I’m working on that. It’s that Grey photographer guy, he should know better then to send those black and white photos... Anyway, do email me some questions you need to get answered. Its for FHM, so make it short, rude and crass.
xoxox
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