On the other side of the world, they're going to bed.
On the other side of the world, new life bursts forth from the ground, carefree and pure.
On the other side of the world, it was another warm Spring day - they got up, rolled around in the freaking tulip patch, and had a beautiful day.
I'm not on the other side of the world. I'm on this side of the world.
It's 6:50am, because some Mayan goon said it was.
Outside my bedroom window, mist rolls across the rolling hills of West Gippsland.
Outside my bedroom window, the grass is littered with leaves, all coloured a majestic orange that you can imagine would shine through the night.
Outside my bedroom window, noisy children are playing with rollerskates. I'm not making this shit up.
Outside my bedroom window, kookaburras are laughing.
Outside my bedroom window, kookaburras are laughing. Loud.
Okay, World, I can take a hint. I'm awake, now what the fuck do you want me to do?
Jelly says: "I've discovered transcendental meditation."
Jelly says: "It's really opened up my mind."
Jelly says: "It's completely different to drugs... They show you a different perception of reality... transcendental meditation shows you actual reality."
Cut to later.
Jelly says: "You know those novelty combs that look like switchblades?"
Jelly passes me a novelty comb that looks like a switchblade.
I press the button, and a blade flips out.
Jelly says: "Once I'd made it, I thought I should destroy it... in case it fell into the wrong hands."
Jelly says: "It was a thing of evil... it has no function bar death."
Jelly says: "Then I thought of how cool it looked."
Cut to now.
I was woken up by children and kookaburras on Wednesday morning.
It was a rude awakening, and I was fucking pissed off.
I thought: "I wonder if I could kill those birds?"
I thought: "I wonder if kookaburras are a protected species."
I thought: "I wonder if small children are a protected species."
It didn't seem fair.
On the other side of the world, they were having a wonderful time of it... and here was I, bleary-eyed and cranky... nose kind of blocked, the tips of my fingers sore from trying to get my fret changes down.
I feel filthy.
My whole body itches.
It was a terrible morning, by all accounts.
But wait... what about the rolling green hills... the cool mist... the majestic orange of the leaves?
This is Quantum Perception: By observing, we change... but then again, it was always li-
Hang on. This is bullshit.
Cut back to Jelly talking about his knife.
Jelly says: So yea- wait... Where's the knife?
It's not in his hand anymore.
Jelly says: Where'd you hide the knife, Cam?
Jelly says: Where's the fucking knife, Cam?
He picks up the knife from where he'd put it down and brandishes it at me.
Jelly says: I should slash you for hiding my kn- oh.
Jelly says: Wouldn't it freak you out if some crazy person came at you with a knife and started ranting about how you'd hidden their knife and they wanted you to give it back.
Cam says: Yes.
Cam says: Let's get drunk.
Cut to one bottle of rum and a bunch of No-Doz later.
Somehow, we stumble down the street (in search of cigarettes).
And who should we bump into, but dreadlocked Lance and his Morwell homies.
It'd been a while since I'd seen them.
For some reason, they remember me. Perhaps cos the first time we met, I got my teeth knocked out.
Ben, who had been present at my bottling, and had wanted to go back in and stab the cunt whot done it, is VERY happy to see me.
Ben says, "Remember that guy that bottled you?"
Oh, Ben... how could I forget?
Cut to 8 hours later.
My body doesn't appreciate being pumped full of rum.
It is now fighting back.
We have learnt an important lesson on why rum is bad. The End.