Beach Bum

Yesterday I spent all day running around to help organise a party and getting absolutely inebriated in the process. That’s the problem when the organisers give you free piss from three o’clock in the afternoon and the party keeps going till six the next morning. Apparently I was very amusing. I might have been, I’m not quite sure.

Today is a day for recovery. My mind is foggy and a little on edge, but already on the mend. I’m not exactly sure what I’m to do with myself while I slowly recover (sometimes you’d just wish you could not be there while the recovery process goes on), but I imagine it might involve walking down the beach at a leisurely pace while looking at people (preferably of the opposite sex).

I might have some work down here now. The organisers of the party (a weekly affair that involves head phones and radio signals to get passed the noise ban at 10 o’clock) might be taking me on board for pay, rather than just free plonk. It’s funny how I can now find work pretty much everywhere I go. It never quite covers my expenses, but it makes the slow bleeding of funds from my account a little more bearable.

Did I mention I moved apartments? In order to survive the odd two months that I’m still hanging around I downgraded my apartment. It actually isn’t much of a down grade. It’s more of a moving into something slightly more permanent; out of the bamboo hut (nice for a few weeks, but a bit inconvenient) into a cement structure. Cement keeps the heat better at night and it can get bloody cold on this beach. This place has a real dry heat that fades very quickly when the sun is gone.

The only problem with it is the vermin. Mosquitoes try to eat me at night, while rats on occasion try to eat my roof. I’m not quite sure why they do that either, but they are slowly trying to gnaw through my tiles. Not to get through, mind you, if they were trying to get through they would have got through a long time ago, instead they seem to be gnawing along some seam in the tiles that they, for some mysterious reason, find rather tasty.

Many people are rather shocked that I am so blasé about rats sharing my living space. I guess it’s a matter of travelling a lot as well as realising that rats always share our living space, but some are smart (or scared) enough to keep hidden, while others obviously don’t care if we notice them. I happen to have the second type of rat (unfortunately).

Yeah, the adventures aren’t quite done yet. I think it’s time for a Bloody Mary.