This is as close as I got - photographing the limb-lacking gecko on a light box display outside Brisbane State High School. I was out on a big Friday night on the town - where big night is defined as taking a walk. With my Mum. And my dog. Oh yes, I am the last of the big party animals.
I'm too old for that. Fact is the idea of a Saturday morning with nausea and vomiting, a mouth like the bottom of a cockie cage, pounding head and alcohol-induced anxiety holds no attraction for me at all. Plus I have other ways to fill up my body with empty calories and empty my wallet of any spare cash.
It's not that I am a wowser or anti-alcohol - I'm not - I enjoy a cocktail or glass of wine over dinner with friends as much as the next person. But in my daily life, it's the exception rather than the rule.
What concerns me is that as a society we seem to believe that excess consumption of alcohol is synonymous with a celebration or a good time.
Why is it that breakfast TV announcers start interviews with the latest premiership/academy award/Nobel prize winner they always seem to ask how they pulled up after the big night? Why? Because as a society we seem to think the only way to mark our greatest of days by drinking so much we can't remember them. Gee, that makes sense.
So if that makes me a wowser, I'm okay with that.
I may be going out on a limb here but I reckon not feeling shit on a Saturday morning is an idea that should have legs (but probably won't).
No comments:
Post a Comment