tales from an ordinary world

1999-09-06

It's that awful mid-afternoon part of the day, when the processed (but not cool) air stifles you and you just can't think properly. The lowest point of the bell-curve - you can see your co-workers wilting. Spiderbait fails to rouse me...instead, I think I'd rather escape to Fawkner Park and lie in a tree, completing the circle of slothfulness, as it were. I wonder if I'll be awake enough to do the radio show tonight ?

Grow a moustache and the world calls you a porn star...