Friday nights

Last night’s writer’s festival event was pretty nice. Got to see Corey and Flick, my best friends through school and Uni respectively, signed their copies of my book, and had a good convo in the VIP area of another thing where there was alcohol (we just invited ourselves into that area, there weren’t a whole tonne of people anyway). I then sauntered over to Irish Murphy’s and had some more drinks, and handed another copy over to one of the bartenders there who is an avid reader, and who I had the longest conversation this year with earlier. I’m finally confident enough to start meeting new people. The apathy I had in the year before made the prospect unappealing, then I met someone and subsequently lost said person to fear and ignorance, and hit rock bottom just as the shit hit the fan in every other area at once. I’d thought I’d been at rock bottom before; everything else was just the support act for rock bottom (isn’t *that* a fun name for a cover band? :p) and while I’ve clawed my way out of the pit, lately I’m in the ‘what’s the next step’ part. Every little bit of confidence boost I can get, I need. Playing it safe may be the only way to move forward, but that’s okay right now. And the little things help. Last night was a good night. I even got some pink plastic Smirnoff shades out of it. Of course, if I don’t do some editing Sunday, then I have to give a dollar to the stupidest crowd-funding project I can find, so accountability I guess.


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