Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

Glitter For Brains' World Tour! Part IV

It appears that it is the job of my dear Wife to elevate me out of the pop culture jungle I am usually swinging around; a month without him and all I could talk about was Sabrina the Teenage Witch’s fab aunts. To which end, it was with glorious keenness that I left LA to see him again, mainly as I couldn’t wait for him to rub off on me once again. Take that as you will.

Well, within twenty-four hours he had enabled me to have twelve hours sleep, we had engaged in some top-notch, um, ‘physical activity’ and had taken in a rather wonderful museum exhibit on Man Ray. Half way around the globe, all was right with the world. I was having great sex in fabulous, expensive-looking locales. My life had finally turned into the porn film I craved.

I hail from the heart of the Black Country, he is from a tiny place outside Perth. And you would think never the twain could meet. Yet, here we were, traveling by plane from the fabulously metropolitan Sydney to see his folks in the somewhat more compact Perth. As the plane descended over the desolate landscape, I finally got to see where the love of my life grew up; in all honesty, I had never seen such a brown-tinted landscape in the whole of my life. Brown, and various shades thereof, broken by scrubs of vindictive-looking trees. Perth is one of the most isolated cities in the world, and you have to ask yourself whether this was due to locale or choice.

I examined the wasteland with dubious eyes: "This is where you grew up? It's very... spartan."

The Wife lowered his in-flight magazine. As usual, he’d actually managed to find something worthwhile in it, reading a detailed feature on the native land. Every time I opened it, all I could find was the Duty Free jewelry section – and spent all my browsing time pondering 'who do I actually hate enough to buy that for?' Anyway:

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Well. Scrub land. Brown. Manky-looking trees. Your paintings in junior school must have been laugh-a-minute."

He sniffed and looked at me. "And yours were better? 'Now children, here's three pots of gray. Let's paint the Industrial Revolution.'"

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