solidarity forever, or at least for now
in the continuing mess that has been my life since march, i haven't had heaps to celebrate. scott's re-election in april, my preselection for hobart city council, not failing one of the assignments i thought i was sure to fail. last night, though, i had a brilliant fucking night, and today, in the bleary hungover haze of a slow rainy sunday shift, i had a moment of clarity, and realised i did have something to celebrate, and i should celebrate it more often.
the night in question, by the way, started as well-deserved knock-off drinks at hobart's diviest of dive bars, the brisbane hotel. it moved into throwing back pint after pint of some of the most absurdly smooth stout i've ever had (degraves stout represent), watching a celtic folk-punk band thrash their way through some really promising originals and the usual assortment of traditional folk songs and pogues covers, roaring myself hoarse because i will never get bored of shouting along to "south australia", slaying at pool (hat trick!), and over-excitedly giving my campaign pitch to some genuinely interested punters, because my preferred way to discuss politics is "over a pint". it finished at my mate's mount stuart sharehouse, where five or so of us serenaded each other, drank scotch, pegged water balloons at each others' arses, watched the world cup for a bit before giving up on the antenna, and in the grand tradition of house parties with this group of friends, ended up with everyone dancing along to paul simon's graceland before passing out, exhausted and deliriously happy, on my mate's futon.
incidentally, i went to a talk by something of a who's-who of hobartian female achievers (the theme of the night being "activism, advocacy and assertiveness") a week back. one of the pieces of advice given was "don't be afraid to ask your friends to help out".
and in the aforementioned haze, working with one of the fine people i spent last night with, that connected. i am, despite everything which has gone wrong this year, one lucky motherfucker, because i have some of the best friends in the goddamn world. i can ask them for help and know they're going to take me seriously, and i can have a hell of a good time enjoying their help. jeremy and arie and amelia and lawson and mark and emily and tam - i owe these people my life and sanity, and starting today, i decided to make time this week to thank them personally for what they've given me. and one of the things they've given me is a safe space, somewhere i can actually talk about how fucked up everything's been without fear of judgement and with hope of advice, instead of bottling it up and making it worse.
friends are the fucking best. go and thank a good friend, because they deserve to know how amazing they are.
the night in question, by the way, started as well-deserved knock-off drinks at hobart's diviest of dive bars, the brisbane hotel. it moved into throwing back pint after pint of some of the most absurdly smooth stout i've ever had (degraves stout represent), watching a celtic folk-punk band thrash their way through some really promising originals and the usual assortment of traditional folk songs and pogues covers, roaring myself hoarse because i will never get bored of shouting along to "south australia", slaying at pool (hat trick!), and over-excitedly giving my campaign pitch to some genuinely interested punters, because my preferred way to discuss politics is "over a pint". it finished at my mate's mount stuart sharehouse, where five or so of us serenaded each other, drank scotch, pegged water balloons at each others' arses, watched the world cup for a bit before giving up on the antenna, and in the grand tradition of house parties with this group of friends, ended up with everyone dancing along to paul simon's graceland before passing out, exhausted and deliriously happy, on my mate's futon.
incidentally, i went to a talk by something of a who's-who of hobartian female achievers (the theme of the night being "activism, advocacy and assertiveness") a week back. one of the pieces of advice given was "don't be afraid to ask your friends to help out".
and in the aforementioned haze, working with one of the fine people i spent last night with, that connected. i am, despite everything which has gone wrong this year, one lucky motherfucker, because i have some of the best friends in the goddamn world. i can ask them for help and know they're going to take me seriously, and i can have a hell of a good time enjoying their help. jeremy and arie and amelia and lawson and mark and emily and tam - i owe these people my life and sanity, and starting today, i decided to make time this week to thank them personally for what they've given me. and one of the things they've given me is a safe space, somewhere i can actually talk about how fucked up everything's been without fear of judgement and with hope of advice, instead of bottling it up and making it worse.
friends are the fucking best. go and thank a good friend, because they deserve to know how amazing they are.