Introspective, among other things

A few things, in quick succession, since I’m told I write long posts, and certain punters have small attention spans:

Gay man, have blog

On Sunday I was fortunate enough to be able to make it Woolloomooloo, thanks the generosity of Gus and Adz, who were kind enough to drive me there after a surprising lack of bargaining on my part (and the promise of free, convenient parking thanks to the disabled parking permit I possess). Upon our arrival we had a look around but couldn’t find anyone anywhere. I sent Drew a quick text message, asking if he had SG’s number because I couldn’t find them. He replied with something ambiguous like “here already”. Did this mean that he (Drew) was there already, or that SG was there? I wrote back asking which he meant, he replied with the one word, “both”. This didn’t help us locate anyone so I wrote back asking “Upstairs or down?”. “Up”. “In or out?” “In”. After finishing a cigarette, the three of us schlepped up the stairs (well, to be fair, I schlepped, the other two walked normally, only slower so that I didn’t get left behind). No-one familiar in sight. “Be more specific.” He sent some more directions, and we wandered along. As we went I thought I saw a familiar face although I didn’t know where from.

It turned out to be Brenton (who, by the way, looks even better in person), talking to Drew. They both stuck their heads into the corridor as I turned around to take a second look. I met many people last night, many of whom I don’t quite remember beyond a hazy recollection; my apologies guys. I finally met SG in person and gave him the hug I promised him, even though we didn’t get to talk much, and also Simon and his partner.

Although I hate playing favourites, the highlight of the evening was finally meeting Dan and Steven, after having resigned myself (rather prematurely as it turns out) to the fact that I wouldn’t meet either of them due to their recent move to London. As soon as they poked their heads through the door onto the tiny smokers’ balcony to say hello, I recognised them. I was quite excited, their blogs being part of the reason I started this whole thing in the first place. Despite some interesting and (if I’m honest) somewhat embarrasing topics it was great to meet them, and everyone, if only for a few hours. All in all, it was a great night, muted only by being walked in on while using the disabled toilet by a female member of staff.

Introspective

This morning I had to leave where I was staying at 7.45, so I headed into the Society office to work with the social worker on the youth pack. As we were discussing my story, she said to me “Dan, you’re very introspective. You’re practically a case study”. I took it as the compliment it was intended to be and smiled. “Hey, I have an assignment for uni where I need to do a case study and you’d be perfect.” That was a new one. It turns out that she is studying psychology at uni and needs a guinea pig to write about for an assignment on mental health diagnosis, and she wants to use little ol’ me. Although I think my life is just interesting enough to be written about by myself, I never thought anyone else would want to write about it. Go figure.

Splish, splash

I had a good day at uni, nothing spectacular but then not every day can be spectacular. Upon arrival in my hometown, I wandered over to the toilet as fast as my legs could carry me—at a snail’s pace—before being picked up by Dad. After having peed into the stainless steel, standard issue public toilet, I heard a resounding metallic clunk as I was doing up my fly and fastening my belt. I looked down and saw the bottle of apple juice, formerly of my jacket pocket, was on the ground, leaking. Suddenly I heard another metallic sound, this time accompanied by a glump sound. I looked for the source of the sound before seeing, to my utter bewilderment, my mobile phone submerged in the toilet bowl. I stood there, frozen, taking in the situation.

Those who have been reading since the beginning will remember that a little over a year ago I dropped my phone into a cup of tea. After a full minute of inaction, I decided I should probably retrieve it, since going for help was probably unwise—likely as not it would have been flushed or pinched if I left it alone. I fished through my backpack and found a plastic shopping bag, put it over my hand like a glove and stuck my hand into the water and fished it out. Luckily the bag had no holes. I dried it off as best I could, throwing away sodden toilet paper as I went, before wrapping it up in swathes of toilet paper and putting it in my pocket. With that I flushed and left with all the dignity of someone who has just dropped their phone into some kind of liquid for the second time in twelve months, only this time it was piss and not tea.