LouLou Says Come Spend Sunday Night With Me

Shane got home with the lovely Stu. Shane was pissed off when David presented him with just three biscuits, one of each flavour, of the present I’d cooked for both of them.

“I got hungry,” said David.

David can never be trusted with food, he will inhale it before he even thinks about it. Sometimes I wonder if it is an involuntary response

LouLou said, “Come spend Sunday night with me?”

So, I did. But, of course, when it came to it, she had friends staying and it wasn’t quite going to be just me and LouLou and the smoking fest I had envisaged. Why a smoking fest, I’m not sure, as I haven’t been smoking. Haven’t thought about it, to be truthful. It’s just funny how when I’m around pot smokers, or know I’m going to be around pot smokers I go straight there. Stupid addiction nonsense.

I didn’t care about getting up early, I didn’t care about packing. It would all get done, I didn’t need to think too much about it.

I headed to Bolago around 7pm.

I ate lovely rolled chicken and salad, it was nice. LouLou’s mate [name] and her son [name], the actor and her anorexic daughter, [name], were there. The husband too, I can’t think of his name.

Mark and Luke wanted the bird book. Mark wanted the chainsaw. I declined the heavy, petrol smelling machinery and packed the book.

LouLou and I smoked pot until midnight, in the atrium. We have LouLou’s neurotic conversation, again. Always. She’s completely fear driven, I feel sometimes. Always fear about the bad that may happen. Rarely, hopeful stories of the future.

I got to bed just after midnight. I feel strung out.

I open my paper journal and start to write.