Going through a long abandoned dropbox account. Expect more quasi-philosophical neurotic scene building posts as I sort through it.
So right now I’ve walked into a volunteer meeting for a festival and I’m currently staring at the ground trying desperately not to make eye contact with any of the masses of people that know everyone except me and have been doing this for A MILLION YEARS. Everyone looks comfortable and at home. Except that guy that just nipped out for a smoke, he looked terrified. I wish I still smoked…
Everyone is in plaid, thongs, flowing arty stuff or work clothes. They all look industrious or artsy. I, however, am wearing a black power metal t-shirt.
Someone comes over to talk to me and my head explodes from social awkwardness.
Bits of Morgan brain and skull land in plastic champagne glasses and splatter across high end perscription bifocals.