I’m skipping a Bryan Brown double at the flicks tonight, which is a shame I hear Austrian movies are pretty good, but I’ve simply had enough stimuli for the week in the last two days and am longing to get cosy on the couch with a bowl of De Campo’s Pesto Pasta. Apologies for the pointless post I’m a pretty pointless guy and am keen to remind posterity of how I was on this day in November, my 35th looming like a leopard through the ferny dusk of my post-pubescence.
A cold sore has emerged and no, it ain’t a damn case of herpes. Try telling that to De Campo who don’t believe me, she’s certain that that’s what all cold sores are, a case of damn herpes. I have a special crème I've grown accustomed to that I apply to the area five times a day. It’s healing up rather well and I look less like David St Hubbins after a gig at a trade show in Waikiki everyday. Of course I used to get cold sores back in high school but that was when my face was a magnet for any monstrous type skin condition (my parents used to make me eat dinner in the other room and my brother used to call me Swamp Thing)
I believe I acquired the cold sore through the use of a Mentholatum used to stop me from biting my nails. Given that it’s only the early stages in the ‘stop and grow’ process the bitter polish stings the corner of my mouth where I still like to bite, not as often as I once did, but still enough to make my mouth look like David St Hubbins raising the roof at a roofing convention in Cape canaveral.
Bliss-out moment of the week: My barber Craig is so cool he plays vinyl records in his shop just like the olden days! He let me put on a record yesterday when side A of the Smashing Pumpkins had finished: Can’s Ege Bamyisi. It was up so loud I was in heavendrinking Coopers Ale on his couch using the other side of my mouth.