Melancholy In Paradise

There was a lunch on at the place I am staying at that I didn't want to be part of. The Dreaded One had no choice, so I wandered off by myself. I quite like doing that. Puts me in quite a floaty frame of mind. I think about all sorts of stuff, check out the surroundings and the people surrounding me. If I was with someone, no doubt my inner bitch would materialise and I'd be making all sorts of catty observations to get a few laughs. But in this near mealancholic state of mind I see everyone as being basically just harmless and good people going about their business, just trying to make something of life. Perhaps it's also becaue of some crappy family drama yesterday that I just can't be bothered looking for negatives and being critical, even if it is just for laughs. Life's too short to focus on the crappy parts and all that.

I wandered alone through Surfer's Paradise, and it was ripe and juicy with fashion victims, but I had nothing, didn't want to go that way. The city itself though, man, I couldn't help noticing that it's really lost its gloss. From a distance it still appears as glitzy as ever and there are still sparking skyscrapers going up bigger and brasher than before, but there are so many dull and empty arcades and empty shops. Raptis Plaza opened a few years ago and was the latest and greatest, but as I walked past there were workers chiselling off the words Raptis and Plaza. Cycle of life and death, huh.

And then at some point on this gorgeous sunny day as I sat looking out at the sea mist and the surfers and swimmers, waves churing relentlessly, my skin tanned and stinging pleasantly from hours in the sun, I found myself chewing this thought: I don't feel quite as immortal as I once did.

Then I thought to myself, "Fuck me, that's pretty good. Not quite Oscar Wilde, but not half bad."

And then I thought to myself, "Holy crap - that's exactly what I want on my headstone."