Foofaraw

I wonder why I blog about the events in my life... Why make a big fuss over something insignificant. It's not like my weekend was a milestone or something. So I went our with Estella and Jaymee and we painted the clubbing scene even redder. (Lydia was supposed to join us but she couldn't make it the last minute.) We drank and danced with strangers and we went home, still sober. As we were walking to the car passed The Beach Club, I was approached by a aged gwailo with an obscene proposition. I told him to "drop dead" and went on my sober way. I was not even affected by it.

Then on saturday night, I got roped in to join my sister and her friend at the new salsa bar in Federal Hotel. It was kinda cool watching all those good dancers doing latin dances as though they were born Cuban. Apparently it is not cheap to take latin dance lessons, but those people could obviously afford it, with their table right up front, littered with glasses, tumblers and wine glasses and equally with extremely expensive bottles of alcohol. They are regular salsa patrons. So were my sister's friend. He may be big but he was sure light on his feet. He was in great demand too - the moment he walked in, there were hellos from all directions. He tried to teach me to salsa but I was bobbing too much - I'm supposed to move my feet and body without moving my head - it was hard but I improved a little as the night moved on. Later, we went to QBar for another round of dancing and drinks. We were already quite woozy by then, had three bottles of red at the previous place between he four of us, but we still went. There we got drunker. Sis bought a bottle of Wild Turkey - 8 years and we finished it. By the time we left, we couldn't walk straight. I was so drunk that I puked out of the window of the car. Her friend was so drunk that he was a dead weight. She was so drunk that she slept on the kitchen floor for a few hours. I was not even concerned that I was that drunk. I've not been so drunk in years, not since Perth Anzac Day 2001 with Estella. I even gave my number to a perfect stranger and he called the next day. I looked at the number and switched my phone off. So regardless to say that weekend was another bout of drinking debauchery. So that's my life the past few weeks - one debauchery after another.

So why is my life so boring? Why do I suddenly feel anesthetised to the world? I don't seem to care much about anything these days. I see devastation on TV and my mind is blank, I don't even bother thinking about it. I even welcomed the feeling of my sister digging her nails into my flesh, it made me feel pain.

Where am I? What am I becoming? Maybe I should change jobs and surround myself with new people. Better people.

*mirthless laugh*

I don't really care.