Karaoke Dokey

I have a long and noble history of chickening out of karaoke, and tonight was no exception. But it was a rather lovely night all the same.

I spent most of the afternoon designing a poster for the Melbourne Model forum that the university is running, and since I am in no way a graphic designer, I needed a drink by the time it was done. So Gillian and Libby and I headed upstairs to an art opening and much free wine. Ah, gallery opening grog: so bad you need another glass. Then Gill and I headed off through the rain into the city and ate so much Japanese food we thoroughly regretted wearing cinch-waisted skirts.

Even though I see Gillian daily, it was nice to spend time with her as a friend - to sit around and eat tempura and chat about non-work-related things. She had to go off to a New Leaf meeting, and since the New Leaf crew were planning on heading down to Miss Libertine for Penny's birthdy afterwards, I figured I would wander the city streets and then go with them as a group. Don't ask me why I couldn't just go alone: I am a chicken. I told you that already.

Anyway, it started to piss down a bit so I took refuge under the arches at the GPO, and watched the rain against the hard city lights. I had my non-Pod with me, so I listened to PJ Harvey and shivered in the light breeze until the battery ran out. I don't know why, but sitting by myself for an hour watching a near-barren streetscape really cheered me up. I think partly it was the feeling of being vulnerable to the elements. It's somehow comforting (...and trite) to realise that whatever is going on in your life, the forces of nature are still at work. Partly it was that the air felt crisp for the first time in months, invigorating, not wilted from hanging around hot concrete all day. And partly it was being almost perfectly dressed for the weather. I don't know why, but that always puts me in a good mood.

Gillian turned up a little later without the rest of the bunch - they'd inexplicably bailed - and we headed towards Miss Lib's. We held a party there at the beginning of the year and because of that Jerry and Steve always greet me with a kiss on the cheek, which I like. The bartender was cute. And Penny, when we found her, was in such good spirits that I felt slightly irresponsible giving her a bottle of tequila. I gave it to her anyway.

And it was fun. I don't know whether it was because I was in a good mood to begin with, but I didn't feel like an impostor the way I usually do at a party where I don't really know anyone. Instead, there was a drunkenly anthropological excitement to watching everyone interact - trying to figure out who knew who how well, figuring out who belonged where by looking at their shoes, trying to predict who would sing what.

And oh, people sang. I have never heard so much good and bad (which is also good) karaoke in my life. I got a bit swept up at one point and leaned over to Gillian and said, "You know, I really feel like tonight is the night I'm going to lose my karaoke virginity!" But then I realised there was only seven minutes until the last tram, and so I piked.

Of course.

On the tram going home, I looked out the window as we were going past the Victoria Markets, and into a long, concrete corridor. Two men were batting around sheep carcasses suspended from the roof - as though the sheep were those metal balls that people have in office building, where the two balls on each end bump the row and set each other in motion. Through the drizzle I got a fleeting glimpse of a long row of carcasses swaying from their butcher hooks, and then the tram pulled away. This has nothing to do with karaoke. I just thought I'd mention it.