Sunday, Dec. 05, 2004 - 8:41 p.m.
Marrying a gibbon
So to get past my naive scribblings of yesterday, did you also know that I nearly got married off into a tribe when I was on holiday? There was quite a hott 18 year old Iban lad who appaz was shyly expressing an interest in me (I say 'appaz' because he was shy and the messages were relayed in translation and via a girl cheekily smiling at me and motioning between me and the boy. And then his mother piped up, pointing at my mum, 'Is this your mother? He is my son!'Christ.
Hilarious though. When we walked into the longhouse, he was sitting strumming a guitar in manner of misunderstood whimsical adolescent.
Another day, after we'd watched an orang utan man shagging a mother whose baby was sandwiched between the two of them, clinging for dear life to its mother's big orange hair, a gibbon ran at me. There I had been, rapidly twirling my camera into focus while staring astounded at a gibbon - an actual, real gibbon - sitting on the grass in front of me, when it got up and started running at me. Ahhh, I thought, and then ARGGGGHHHH. They're small but they're still apes and they probably harbour scary monkey diseases that this ape long ago lost resistance to.
In music news, I just took receipt of the 'new' Devendr@ Banhart and (W)Interpol(e) albums as well as an Anthony & The J0hnsons EP - marvo - but I have finally spent long enough away from D@mien Rice to be able to enjoy his album again. But WHY WHY WHY have they smelly-catted ANOTHER of his singles? Surely his songs work best because they DON'T have a drum beat in, and the simple addition of a drum track to The Bl0wer's Daughter proves that it's so easy to mess something from a masterpiece to a blandpiece. Bah.
Anyhoz - bedtime as I've gone crazy. And I'm still nauseous.