Who's stupid ass idea was it to wake up at 6am tomorrow, anyway?
Right. Mine.
Bagfull of face-paint, a book on techniques to take into the bath with me, feet sore and raw and happily throbbing from the trek to Ottawa today to see the Klimt and Duhrer exhibits.
Slightly disappointing, more sketches than paintings for the Klimt, apparently so many of them burned in the second world war... But the pencilled portraits of lucious women, masturbating on 19th century divans, nymphs and muses, death and hope, and glrious manes of red-gold hair...
Small breasts, big hips, muscled bums. Gods, I was born so many centuries late.
Too late to be a mad scientist, too late to be a muse.
Right on time for the digital revolution, though. Math-geek it is, but I sure could do with a cobwebbed laboratory.
The Duhrer exhibit was actually just 14 (or was it sixteen?) etchings on paper, of, get this, Jesus. Cripes, why ruin a beautiful sentiment with the most overdone symbolism on the planet?
Give me masturbating nymphs any time.
We wandered the market, I bought a blue-on-blue handwoven sarong, from a girl who asked me if she'd like her to help me try it on, wink wink, nudge nudge. Beautifully tressed grypsy girl and I'm listening to the quaver in my voice betray me as I say "no thank you..."
Beer and shrimp in a celtic pub, running into the goths on this corner, on that corner, declining their offers to drink, dine, and go to Zaphod's.
Zaphod's, I haven't been to Zaphod's since Leslie was the main DJ. Leslie who listened to my Chameleons albums and fell in love. Leslie who danced to the last song of her set and went blind to the world for seven minutes of old-school industrial.
I wonder where she is now.
I wonder if I could still handle a pan-galactic gargleblaster. I've got the money now, but I still can't afford it, ya know?
Right.
6am. Get up, get dressed, grab the croissants and brew a thermos of coffee, and roust the unsuspecting french boy out of bed for a day at the waterpark.
Sunscreen. Must...bring...sunscreen.
So who's taking bets on how much money we raise for the Starlight foundation on our first weekend, eh?
Right.
Bed time.
Oh yeah, hey cf? I drove past the US embassy on the way to the museum. Apparently it's on Ottawa.
And Dame Mystere? Je t'aiderai avec le jour du Fray. Dis moi quoi faire, pis cela sera fait. Meme une histoire, si tu veux. Chu pas mal avec les contes de fees...