Autograph

Yesterday was the first time somebody asked me for an autograph. Somehow some people had thought it was a good idea to launch a new barbeque restaurant with a fashion show. They paid me and gave me food and booze, so I wasn’t going to complain. Anyway, after the show was done and I was into my umpteenth beer this little girl comes up to me, must have been six or seven, and asked for my autograph.

So I slapped her.

Just checking if you’re still awake! I didn’t actually slap her. Instead I did what I was supposed to do and signed. There was about four or five other people that they had got signatures from, so it wasn’t as if I was that special; but it was still a new experience.

Apparently the fashion week has been a success, at least for me. I’m still waiting to see what the fall out will be, but people recognise me now, that’s for sure. Is this my fifteen minutes of fame?

I’ve taken to just assuming that it won’t maintain itself and enjoying it while it lasts. Of course, hopefully I’ll be able to make a bit of cash before it fades away completely, then on to Goa.

I really need to get back to the beach. I want to find myself a little beach hut by the side of the water and write about all the shit that’s been happening to me. I might well be able to produce something worth while. I’ve got a number of short stories that desperately need writing (except for sleep, the thing that has suffered most lately from my popularity has been my writing) and some time to recalibrate would be good.

Though, that said, I’m back on an upswing. The last two weeks were a bit down (everybody has those swings right? It’s just not me that’s nuts, is it?) but now I’m back in full force and enjoying life as much as I possibly can.

I wonder, if I read back over my blog, would I be able to spot those periods where I had my down swings and those periods where I was up and happy just by the language I use? I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.