Rambling with whiskey

"They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn..."
~ Jack Kerouac, On the Road.

Today it occurred to me that I only have seven days of employment left. Yes that’s right after bitching about the taxing task of conscious melancholy it’s become somewhat apparent that well, it doesn’t really apply to me. I guess I always knew this but I was so lost in the whirlpool of enlightenment that I almost forgot I’m going to Tasmania in two weeks indefinitely. Most commonly recognized as the sweet wispy fluff of a female’s erogenous nether regions, Tasmania is a place of dense impenetrable bush. Oh the sweet tragic truth. To some this land of exotic fruit has represented wealth and vitality, and of course for those few who are now the richest in Australia it has not disappointed. I digress

No this is not out of a dodgy 70's flick!!

You see, some years ago I dreamt of a world, a world where I could suckle on the sweet bitter nectar of cheap alcoholic drink and indulge in the even cheaper girls under the balmy sun. All lips and nipples and oily skin, tantalising hands plunging through the icy depths of the crystal blue ocean. I treasured this idea as the epicentre of clarity, truth, beauty and understanding. I set to this as my chore, as audacious as it may sound and the years flew past. But this was without regret as I would learn. Over these “special” years I learnt of things more powerful then the jubilant pleasure of a supple “motor boating” and as skilful as the art of true happiness, or the fulfilling wholesomeness of wonton soup with the Art Director. It was fate some would say, others though like myself would be more inclined to suggest such terms; reckless excessiveness, exuberant alcoholism and pleasurable disappointment. Failure it would seem brought meaning to this chaotic perplexity.

They ask me, “What does this all mean, where will I go and how will I live? “I will write a book” I exclaim, “People will bow to its tremendous awesomeness and bask in its splendour”.. “D.I.L.L.I.G.A.F” <--(Hint; Kevin Bloody Wilson.)

Burn, Burn, Burn..

*Damn I wish I could find a picture of the Mambo art claiming the female anatomy to be a “Map of Tasmania”.. Seriously that was the best sex education I ever got.