Monday, May 22, 2006

Lunch at Roberts

(pics to follow) After being a reclusive workaholic on Friday & Saturday, I ventured a little uneasily towards Brighton on Saturday night. Stopped at the Permanent Gallery to see protoPLAY's performance. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure how much of a mood I was in to sit down for 1.5 hours and take in ANYTHING. Protoplay is partly made up of 5 of my housemates; they're a performance art group, and I've been slightly involved, helping them to set up as an independent arts group. I like their work. But tonight, I was stressed. Essex boy kept calling to arrange to meet up at the show, then decided he didn't want to go. My friend Si, who I was meeting at 9, kept sending me obscure texts and I was running late as it was. Feeling out-of-body, out-of-place, I suddenly spot 3 of my housemates standing on the corner of Western Road (nr Kambis) wearing white body suits, masks & doing something strange. I hustle across the street and make my way up the stairs into Permanent Gallery, a shoe-box sized space. And there, standing at the entrance, I suddenly find myself faced with the entire room looking at me. They're all wearing Carol Smiley masks, the same white suits and I AM SO FREAKED OUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHO ANYONE IS. Tv screens, walkie talkies, loads of bodies and I've soon donned a white suit as well. We all look like we're at a site of a nuclear fall-out or about to remove asbestos. The group on the corner accost passer-byers - we're asked to vote whether to invite them in via the close-circuit tv. "Yay!" everyone shouts. Some people flee, too frightened at what they might find in the gallery (us?). Some decide to join us, already pissed from an afternoon of drinking and wondering what the hell is going on. The most frequent question of the evening was: "So, did you get pulled off the street too?" Stephen, one of my housemates, tricks me twice into thinking he's someone else and the third person to approach me I accost a hundred times thinking he's Steve when he's not. It was a weird but exhilaratingly fun evening. I met lots of new people. I jumped around and touched my left cheek with my right hand. And by the time "last orders" were called - the final instruction to take off our costumes, I was sorely disappointed that the fun was over. Check out some of the photos here. The rest of the night was a confused drunken mess. On the one hand, I carried a sign that read: "Sit down and talk about the weather" and commanded audiences wherever I went. On the other hand, I got into a fight and went home, crying and having the taxi driver consoling me that all men were scum. The next day, however, I woke up feeling...okay. Took the train up to Oxford, had lunch with Robert, Emily & Matt. Cava, fishcakes and aspargus, followed by spaghetti with mussels. Em's rhubarb crumble for desert, along with port, cheese and crackers. Happily woken up shortly before I arrive at Gatwick by a phone call from Maria in New York. It was a great catch up, even if there were security swarming the train platform, machine guns in tote. Scary.
Pic 1: Robert looking gorgeous on the left, me looking like a stuffed ardvark on the right. Pic 2: A rare photo opportunity. Em on the left, Matt on the right.
ps: I've just discovered preview. So dumb.


Blogger Gabs said...

lol (to the last bit), all sounds great - prob good to balence such a groovy time with a fight...

10:48 AM  

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