One final morning class at Leigh Warren after a tumultuous previous night where I made the mistake of inadequate supplies of chocolate to deal with an onslaught of self-fucked-up-ness from seeing the flawed, beautiful, affront to good christians and heterosexual monogamists everywhere, Shortbus.
Without getting onto the movie-review horse, I was delirious with laughter and happiness that such a film actually got shown at all in Australia, with such a forest of hard cocks, fucking, pussies and cumshots in the first scene alone and more orgies than Salò o le 120 giornate di Sodoma. So what am I doing still not in New York? Yeah, also it was a good film to come around now, when everyone who isn’t part of the 28% of Australians who think women belong in the kitchen or their cheerleaders is righteously sick of having that puerile 1950s John Howard White Australia picket fence lobotomised pseudo-culture vomited down our throats and really just want lots of normal things. Like orgies and all-night sex parties.
So I got to hang out at the airport this afternoon, and in a fit of boredom while I tried to claw myself away from the disgusting mediocre Australiana of airportland by listening to Abruptum and Bathory, I photographed the apron.