Give me strength.

 All the boys are out tonight. All of them, the ones I see every day and the ones I haven’t seen in months. And I want to go so badly. They’re going to a dive for budget drinks and then presumably onto another dive and another- and I still want to go.

I haven’t been out in a long time. A long, long time.

I have design work, pre-show work , CSS work and painting to do. I planned to work late on an html email, FINALLY mock up a news item and prep images for my gallery. Then I was going to go to gym until I felt shaky, head home to eat a low-fat low-cal low-salt sugar-free dinner that will presumably leave me hungry, dissatisfied and full of self pity.

And I’m no fool, I know that half an hour later I’ll go to the corner shop and buy enough sweets to induce a coma, eat them in front the telly, giving my canvases side-long glares. This is all part of my plan for tonight. It’s a miserable but realistic one. I’ll watch the Wedding Crashers or some other rota comedy on channel 4 about a dude and a girl who embarrass themselves but look great and fall for each other and then fight and then hook up, while a dog or a “crazy friend/cousin/sibling” or homeless person does the funny bit. I’ll do this whilst inking the big tree, the one that started out badly. Then I’ll change over to Wossy to see who he has on and I’ll either say “fuck off” and turn over or “goody” and not.

But what I want to do is paint my face like a drag queen, go and buy the first nasty 5 inch pair of budget heels I see and wear them to a club that I’d hate on any other day. And get blitzed, of course. I never feel triumphant if I haven’t had a drink in a long time. I don’t drink with meals or go “for one” after work. Ever. I binge drink and oh my god, has it been a long time.

But it’s bad for my bank account, my body, 7 am wake-up and it hogs the five hours that are all good for work that I could do tonight. And if I think of all the people I know who say “fuck it” and go out for a night of damage over getting work done, it makes me want stick to my original plan.

Yeah. No. Yeah.

Ideal Brown is taking advantage of the fact that I’m working by playing old sci fi films. Yeah, I’m in the living room, but apparently I’m “not even looking” at the TV. Fair, I suppose.

So, he’s busy watching THX 1138 and I’m busy listening to it. Actually, I wouldn’t mind watching it too. It’s not like it’s Tron or the matter of a semi-clad warrior princess finding a bastard dragon’s egg. It’s the work of George Lucas and Francis Ford Coppola.

Anyway, I’ve just heard what I think is a sample used in a Nine Inch Nails song. Somebody is watching a hologram of  a guy getting beaten and the thump-thump-thump is the same noise that opens Mr Self Destruct. I’m pretty sure of it.

It sounds very similar anyway. I got all “THIS IS FROM NINE INCH NAILS!” but Ideal Brown isn’t such a fan.

Now people are fucking. It sounds horrible.

Anyway, I like when you can see how people take one thing and change it entirely by altering its use or fiddling with one or two key elements. I’m not articulating myself very well now, I know.

I will have 6 new canvases in A Mirror Distorted; a goup show at the Carmichael Gallery with Pam Glew, Cherri Wood and Andrea Michaelsson (from Btoy).

August 6 – August 27.

For enquiries, please contact elisa@carmichaelgallery.com

My dad is taking swine flu more seriously than I am and is dismayed to hear that my brother has all the symptoms and is going to be home alone for 5 days. He has asthma, so without taking any risks, he’s been prescribed Tamiflu. Disco. What else can you do? My mom insists that it’s bullshit he be all alone and is taking him chicken – afterall “I don’t have asthma” she says.

“why didn’t you tell me?” my dad asks.

I say because I’ve been very busy and strung out and I only found out yesterday and I forgot after work yesterday because I had to go to an engagement dinner last night. Selfish, in other words I miserably suppose.

“I’m going to a concert just now” he says, the flu issue put to one side. I say “really” and he says “Ja. It’s Nelson Mandela’s birthday today. We’ve all been asked to put aside 67 minutes for him” and I ask “so you’re all going to the concert for the 67 minutes?” thinking it might be something everyone is tuning in to or going to in person. And he shouts “No, I made 150 sandwiches!” with a sort of triumphant glee.

And I ask who they’re for and he says “the people at the robots. Ja, I’m going to go give them out now”and I say “for the people in cars?” because in South Africa we call traffic lights robots. And he says “no, the homeless” and I forget how they gather in droves around stationary cars, holding their babies or broken limbs or cupped hands to the windows.

And I say “that’s very nice of you, Dad” because it is and because I know a lot of people who wouldn’t do that sort of thing. He says “Ja, I made them last night. I bought 15 loaves of bread and a bottle of scotch” and then he explodes with laughter “so some of them will have the butter inside and some will have the butter outside” he screams and we both laugh.

I ask what other people are doing and apparently he knows some that are giving their old clothes away. I ask “What are the Smiths doing?” thinking this must be something everybody is getting on-board for and he says “they’ve gone away. Ja, they’ve been fighting” I say “oh” because I’m a bit disappointed and also unsurprised because their marriage never seemed that great anyway. And then he says “Dickie’s doing sandwiches too. I’m meeting him and Susan now” and I think that’s cool and wish I could be there to do it with them.

I ask him what kind of sandwiches he made and he says “Bovril, cheese and cucumber” and I say “that’s nice” and he says “not all on the same one! Some are Bovril, some are cheese and come are cucumber” and I jokingly ask if he cut the crusts off his cucumber ones and he says he did. And I think The Poor would probably have wanted the extra bread, but don’t say it because it would make him feel shit about the nice thing he’s doing.

Happy Birthday, Nelson!

What a dude.

Unless I made some big silly error in booking, I’m going to New York! In November! With Ideal Brown and Helen and Liz and the Two Tees! And Little Big Boy might come too!

I’ve never been to America before. I hope I can get another I Heart Bubba tank top…mine is looking a bit tired. Yay! I selected a gluten free airline meal and window seat! Yay!