Three unrelated things.

1) 7-11 is currently advertising a "sports slurpee": it's the "AFL Sports Slurpee - CHARGED WITH ELECTROLYES!". I saw this going past the Brunswick Rd 7-11 on the way in to work this morning and it made me smile, partly because I imagined a big pink waxed-paper cup with tiny molecular particles jumping and sparking off the top, and partly because it seemed somehow charming and quaint that sportspeople should warrant their own special slurpees. I liked the idea of AFL footballers sitting in their locker rooms before the match, spooning up their special frozen sports colas with those funny spoon/straw things and then heading out onto the field. I also liked the scope it left for other specialty slurpees - perhaps the "yoga slurpee": some sort of frozen orange juice, "CHARGED WITH INNER PEACE!" Or an "arts slurpee": "BLITZED WITH CREATIVE JUICE!"



2) I had a really horrible dream this morning, and while I generally think it is really banal to write about your dreams I can't seem to shake it from my system. (A seamless segue, from ill-advised marketing ideas to the dark, dark workings of the subconscious! That is why these things are 'unrelated', fool.) It was one of those scary dreams that seems utterly real, and that when you wake up make you overwhelmingly relieved - a direct contrast, I suppose, to those dreams where you're madly in love with someone, which always make me sad and grumpy when I awake to realise that the dream lover does not exist.

Anyway, it was one of those pursuit dreams where you're being chased across a number of scenarios, constantly hiding from some shadowy peril. At one stage I found myself holed up in a country house that I have visited in real life, hiding out with several (real) friends. One of them volunteered to go outside with a gun and act as a guard, and I understood just a second too late that he meant to commit suicide. He'd locked the door and I forced open a window just as I heard the shot. By the time I got to him his breathing had become shallow, and the scene had changed to some kind of college dorm room, and I teased him for choosing such a crappy place to die. As his breath became more laboured, he asked me whether he would ever meet me again, and I said yes, even though neither of us believe in an afterlife, because we'd never had a chance to fall in love on earth. I stooped my head down and he lifted his to kiss me, and I woke up with the taste of blood in my mouth.



3) The magazine was given a number of tickets to Keating! and the only thing I really have to say is that this might possibly be the best comedic musical in the history of musical comedy. There was a Keating/Hewson rap battle over the GST, a mambo for Mabo, a Cheryl Kernot/Gareth Evans love song. Sure, you could say that it pandered to a cetain partisan political viewpoint, but I believe humour transcends political boundaries and it would take a particularly stodgy bastard not to giggle insanely at the Alexander Downer number.

Since it was opening night, the place was crawling with photographers and celebrities. We ended up waiting in line at the box office Johns Brumby and Thwaites, as well as former soap star Kimberlie Davies. The biggest celeb there, of course, was Keating! the man, and the moment he stepped on stage with the cast a shiver went through the crowd. He was so fucking cool, too - the cast were all dancing around to the band, so Keating started jiving in a very deadpan, Reservoir Dogs kind of way. He thanked Casey Benetto for the tribute, hugged the actors and musicians, and then threw his arm around Eddie Perfect, who played Howard, and declared, "I can't help it - I love the little desiccated coconut!" And as they were leaving the stage, he grabbed the mic and added, "Don't worry - the coconut will get his comeuppance!"

I don't think Kevin Rudd is quite charismatic enough to warrant his own musical, but you could feel a swell of hope go through the audience as people let themseves believe that the next Federal election would return a Labor government. Anything to get out of the relaxed and comfortable rut. We all went for beers afterwards, and debated policy and sang bits of the musical until last call. Which reminds me, I need to enrol to vote...