Faith restored
I'f I'd brought a camera with me on Saturday night, I'd have taken a few pics. Instead I will just describe what I would have taken shots of.
Click: this one is of me shakin' by bad thing, in the centre of Vodaphone stadium, amongst a HUGE crowd, to refrains of "God is a DJ..." Maybe Maxi Jazz was God that night, maybe it was the drugs.
Click: take a look at Geezer, house lights up way too bright, enter some cheeky woman using the old 'ooh, your jumper looks so warm...' ploy.
Click: this one shows the three of us walking back from Vodaphone Stadium, pondering Melbourne's grids of sqare pseudo-stars, listening to Chris' ceaseless monolog on his fervour for Michael Franti.
Click: this shot is dominated by fake blood, slashed wedding dresses and a scary dude with chicken livers and lamb's brains stapled to his wife-basher. Chris is saying to me, "This is
my bloody mix!"
Click: last on the roll is one of me, next morning, no hang-over, and beaming wide!
So thank you for your generosity Alex, and Geezer, and hell, even Chris. Woo Hoo!
