So a whole group of us went to the Color Bar on Friday. It was a flipping fantastic night. You know one of those extraordinary evenings where all your mates are in one place, they're playing great music, the drinks and shooters are flowing, my tits keep on falling out of my shirt and I don't seem to give a fuck, so things were great.
All my mates have heard the very this-is-a-joke-but-lets-see-if-you-fall-for-it Douala pitch. And they seem so excited to go. It's actually starting to freak me out. On Friday, they were telling perfect strangers all about it. At the bar, in the toilets, everywhere, the buzzowrd for the night was the flipping "D" word. "Mate, it's only R600 to go! It's hell, but it's cheap." We all sat in a large group and screamed, "Douala! Douala!" It was insane. I think I may have to break it to these strange individuals that I was joking the whole time. Khali is trying to book a hotel. Enough! Already!
Emily and I curled up on the couch on Saturday and watched my all-time favourite movie of all time (well, one of them): Twin Peaks. I love David Lynch, he's wierd and off-the-wall, but I love it. And I love that the whole story revolves around a quintessential American town, with iconic subversion towards cherry pie, a homecoming queen, fresh mountain air, a logging factory, and a murder, which reveals the actual rotting core of this place. And the music is beautiful. Fuck Douala, I want to go to a place like Twin Peaks.
Read about "The Explorers" on my other blog, laurianclem.blogspot.com.