| Judging by the lack of input that I have been putting into WBS lately, one would assume that I have been busy with very important tasks that are not only influential to my future, but also to the future of the world in general. Actually...I have been sitting here at my 'puter for the best part of four to five weeks, writing essays, consuming detrimental food stuffs (but at least in the end I got to go to Live 'n' Local) and stressing about everything. Actually, there's a line from 'Father of the Bride' that I always quote when I explain my stressfulness to those who merely think that I'm a nut: GEORGE: You know, Brian...Annie is a very passionate person and passionate people tend to overreact at times. Annie comes from a long line of major overreactors. Me. I can definitely lose it. My mother...a nut. My grandfather...stories about him are legendary. The good news, however, is that this overreacting tends to get proportionately less by generation, so your kids could be normal... To cope with all of these cases of self-induced panic attacks, I usually grab any opportunity I can to get away from this keyboard and into the throngs of a social gathering. So on Thursday night I hopped on the train and went to a housewarming on the West End. The housewarming was for Ming Mong (dubbed with this title because he bares a resemblance to the guy from the Virgin Mobile Ming Mong teev ad). Ming Mong's party was outstanding...I believe that at one stage the local socialist comrades in nearby shanty houses even came outside for the free entertainment. There were several fire-eating dancers, twirling their sticks of fire about, whilst trying to keep their polyester eveningwear intact. Their movements shifted in time with the upbeat bongo drumming of Santa, who I believe played his last beat when his head hit the skin as he passed out for the night. Inside, a room that was once occupied by two turntables, was crowded with excited punters, waiting for the acoustic and vocal stylings of local musos 'Brown Bear'. These guys played a nice set, the highlight being a track with audience participation. You can imagine how many people were off key when singing: 'la la la la la la, la la la la la la...laaaaaaalaaaaa...' in a rather tricky fashion. When Brown Bear finished up, it was back to the incessant beats of the resident DJs, who amused chemically enhanced partiers for hours on end. By this time, I was sure that the elderly couple next door were sand-bagging their front door and gathering their artillery together to stop the madness outside from getting in. Strangely enough, the night ended with rather mundane conversations in the midst of madness. Ming Mong told of his habitual procrastination...and how he recently memorised the mathematical formulas for PI instead of doing his appointed task. On impulse, I picked up a drum and started hitting it erratically. Ming Mong looked over at me, puzzled. "I'm being abstract", I said, "I'm going to have an installation of people quoting PI loudly over the top of poorly-played drums". Taking the drumstick out of my hand, Ming Mong smiled and replied in a pseudo-bohemian accent, "...That is soooo arthouse, man!"
|
