BRISBANE RIVERFIRE
September 4th 2007 07:00
This is dedicated to you.
“Doctors in Russia don’t get paid as much as they do here because they’re mainly female,” a girl who called herself Angle told me. That wasn’t a typo. Her name wasn’t Angel, like Heaven’s Angel. It was Angle, like Ninety Degree Angle.
Jude held a Riverfire party in the new apartment his father bought him. It’s quite a large apartment located right near the river, perfect for the fireworks. I love fireworks. I snuck out when they came on and found a piece of time where I was by myself. I let my cigarette drop from my lip and, like a mime, held my hand against the sky. I watched the small explosions and listened to the crackles. The pink and the green and the orange. One explosion looked like a heart. When you think the fireworks have finally ended, more would come. Stronger, more impressive. People went, Ooh. People went, Ahh. Pop music played in the background. I smiled. Couples were there. Families were there. A bunch of people must have been happy. I moved my fingers and painted on the fireworks. I changed the reflections of the Brisbane River. The melting gold reflections became gummy droplets that rose to the sky. Close your eyes. Let’s slow dance. Let’s revolve things. Let’s be selfish. Let’s say nice words. Let me nibble on your ears. Let me taste your lips. Your legs. Your arms. All of your skin. Things will never be the same. The world won’t stop. It’ll take us with it and we’ll willingly follow. The last time I saw fireworks was last year. I was standing next to Eva. Pop. Pop. Pop pop pop.
The fireworks ended. I turned around and there were people all around me. One girl took three guys to one of the bedrooms. A bunch of girls were having body shots. A guy was talking to a girl about another guy named Kelly, who knew a fashion photographer named Jean, who knew this Jamaican guy I Forgot His Name. Someone vomited and a few people laughed. Another person called him Disgusting. Some guy was crying to his best friend about his ex boyfriend who hasn't replied to his text message for an hour. Apparently he hasn't even commented on his MySpace or Facebook for like, two days. He said his life was awful and he wanted to die. The lounge smelt like cigarette smoke, marijuana, beer and anal sex. A man yelled, You’re too old. A crying girl asked, Who am I?
“Doctors in Russia don’t get paid as much as they do here because they’re mainly female,” a girl who called herself Angle told me. That wasn’t a typo. Her name wasn’t Angel, like Heaven’s Angel. It was Angle, like Ninety Degree Angle.
Jude held a Riverfire party in the new apartment his father bought him. It’s quite a large apartment located right near the river, perfect for the fireworks. I love fireworks. I snuck out when they came on and found a piece of time where I was by myself. I let my cigarette drop from my lip and, like a mime, held my hand against the sky. I watched the small explosions and listened to the crackles. The pink and the green and the orange. One explosion looked like a heart. When you think the fireworks have finally ended, more would come. Stronger, more impressive. People went, Ooh. People went, Ahh. Pop music played in the background. I smiled. Couples were there. Families were there. A bunch of people must have been happy. I moved my fingers and painted on the fireworks. I changed the reflections of the Brisbane River. The melting gold reflections became gummy droplets that rose to the sky. Close your eyes. Let’s slow dance. Let’s revolve things. Let’s be selfish. Let’s say nice words. Let me nibble on your ears. Let me taste your lips. Your legs. Your arms. All of your skin. Things will never be the same. The world won’t stop. It’ll take us with it and we’ll willingly follow. The last time I saw fireworks was last year. I was standing next to Eva. Pop. Pop. Pop pop pop.
The fireworks ended. I turned around and there were people all around me. One girl took three guys to one of the bedrooms. A bunch of girls were having body shots. A guy was talking to a girl about another guy named Kelly, who knew a fashion photographer named Jean, who knew this Jamaican guy I Forgot His Name. Someone vomited and a few people laughed. Another person called him Disgusting. Some guy was crying to his best friend about his ex boyfriend who hasn't replied to his text message for an hour. Apparently he hasn't even commented on his MySpace or Facebook for like, two days. He said his life was awful and he wanted to die. The lounge smelt like cigarette smoke, marijuana, beer and anal sex. A man yelled, You’re too old. A crying girl asked, Who am I?
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Comment by Wendi
Time isn't on my side lately. I'm doing the best I can with what I have... your posts are always worth taking a few extra minutes for, even if those minutes are few and far between. I'm glad I made this one of my stops.
Hope you're well.
W
Comment by Candice
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
It's great to hear from you again. And I'm glad you enjoyed my writing - I have a long, long way to go before I get to be the type of writer I want to be.
I can totally relate to you about time. I'm swamped with this blog and the book and work and uni and the very, very tempting concept of slacking around. I can't wait for the day where I can be lazy and not feel guilty about being a lazzy toss. I reckon, the older we get, the more hours we should be allocated in the day. That way, we don't have to work for a family we won't see, or be with partners we won't have time to be with, or see the world we're working 9-5s to see.
I really hope Australia doesn't get to that point where a lot of people are struggling with 3 jobs, and yet are still somehow in debt.
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
Pleasure meeting you. Don't worry, I'll make sure to inform you what happens next
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I mean, I'm anti-war, but you know those soldiers are getting a little thrill when they set off mortars and the like...
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You've captured that atmosphere that's carries almost a hint of desperation that can permeate the air of parties (especially ones that have a really high expectation of fun that can never really be lived up to).
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
I'm anti guns, but when I tried one overseas once, I couldn't help but get a little tingly.