last nite i was going to meet my friends at an art exhibition in surry hills and hang out and enjoy the free wine. i mean, culture.
except when we got there the exhibition was really just a good excuse for 500 hipsters to cram together in the alley checking one another out. ie: fucking horrible. i didn’t even bother looking at the art, we just decided to ditch them and go back to our friend’s studio and drink nice wine without having to listen to conversations like ‘i love your glasses, where did you get them’, ‘oh. you won’t find them, they’re antique’.
shut up, hipsters. just shut up.
anyway, the five of us went up to the beautiful studio in this big old manhattan-esque art deco building with the beautiful floorboards, original mouldings and awesome mint-green 60’s bathroom with a view of the sydney skyline. and we went into the drum room and played with every single percussion instrument we could find and then we went into the piano room and played every single keyboard we could get our hands on and locked ourselves in the vocal booth and tested it’s sound proofing (ok maybe that was just me) and then we climbed the winding steel staircase that lead to the secret upstairs room and went through the tiny two foot tall, alice in wonderland door and came out onto the roof.
five stories up, on a steep pitch under a beautiful starlit sky we sat on that roof silently smoking cigarettes while overlooking the whole of downtown sydney all lit up and pretty and for a minute the world stood still as we thought ‘wow’. ‘this is really cool’.