This weekend was what the bi-polar people would refer to as a 9. It welcomed the long awaited the return of the original dishonorable- Jess.
Jess returned with tie dyed hair, vegan knitwear and creepers though she's still keeping it real by eating meat and dairy products so I suppose thats something for me to cling on to.
Recently Pat has become all hipster and cool. He Djs, he dates urban outfitter staff and everything he promotes over uses the derogative word 'indie'. Despite all of that nonsense, he has also gained a seat in Bristol's gay high society, for profit one hopes, and not for pleasure as one would naturally assume. Though its apparent he thrives off the the attention they give so passionately .
This weekend, Pat informed me about this art event launch thing that was happening. I figured, that since every attractive man of the so called gay elite that has ever disliked me was going to be there, I felt a felt a strong obligation to attend, if not for the sake of Art but the opportunity to cause mischief and mayhem.. and it would be easy.. for this time I had Jess.
The problem with art in bristol is it has the ungracious tendency to be a bit shit. Do you recall the last show I went to?
Bristol Art usually fits into one of three categories; weird Vegan Lesbian 'fanny' art, nu-rave geometric Hollyoaks discharge screen prints or Urban art that comments on social issues that were so 2007 in 2005.
what ever happened to a nice oil?
So anyway....Pete, Pat, Jess, a few other unmentionables and I rocked up to this event. My first thoughts were 'so this is what one gets if one crosses Urban outfitters with a gay bath house on a sunday morning' Does anyone have a hazard suit I can borrow?
The show was more agreeable with my tastes than I would have ever imagined though Jess and I spent a few free G&TS discussing the ironic significance of artits who present their work in white mounts and pine frames. Striped pine died the same year as Princess Diana, and just like her, they shouldn't really be seen hanging on anyones bedroom wall.
Many free G&Ts later... Pete & co went to Bath to go to Calum's night , Pat had left to go spotify at the event's afterparty and Jess went for a piss but didn't return. I however remained.
I uncovered a character, his name is Thomas, he smokes a pipe, stands at 6ft, talks with his eyes and he styles a dress impossibly well. And to top it off, he and I only have a single mutual friend on facebook. One.
I've always said the best friends one can have go harmoniously with one's interior design and furnishings thus avoiding the embarrassment of an unnecessary clash of interests.
And I'm not positive but I believe Dubstep disagrees with him too.
We.. my friend Andrew , Thomas, Vanessa and some pleasant lady with a bowl cut and I went back to Andrew's for wine and cake for it was still not 12 o'clock.
During this short late night brunchen, Mania, in a Fagan like manner, was kind a enough to show off his various treasures and novelty items including a very unique talking alarm clock which processed the voice of Stephen Fry.
A bottle of wine and half a walnut and coffee cake later.... We ventured out to go to my work (on my only night off) on the way, we decided to pay a visit to Bristols only official nature reserve a.k.a The smoking area of Syndicate.
Within the caged enclosure were an array of rare and exotic breeds of the working class genus. One got exited and showed us his bottom just before eating his own dung.
Our visit sumed up in a few pictures.....
The pole dancers from sunday were kind enough to demonstrate their gymnastical talents.
After The bierkeller we went to meet Pat outside his work, he was with his screeching all-gay Housemate come new bff and his army of fag hags whom he is never seen to be without. sigh...
After they dispersed, Pat, Andrew, Thomas and I went for a dance in the only place that one can dance at that time in the morning, Mr wolf's
O how we danced.
We were later joined by Ben, perfect Ben whom I completely forgot to meet up with hours prior, he was drunk and wearing polyester. Humid.
The weekend concluded with Bristol's first flea Market. It was grand. I was the first there as I awoke first thing in the morning after having the worst sleep of my life on the floor of Calum's hall which rendered my right hand completely useless until 5pm. I spent my whole weeks wages on trinkets and relics. Details of my purchases shall be issued shortly.
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