(diaryland) July 14, 2000 - 16:53:30

Welcome to Jazz Club. Nice.

Rosie is my bestest friend in the whole world. She hasn't appeared in my diary properly yet, but today she will be in it a lot. She has been in the middle of Australia, standing on big rocks and various other big things that are red.

On Tuesday, she showed me all her photos. There were many pictures of submerged crocodiles.

Last night, we went and saw some jazz. But first, we went to the place that serves my staple diet - McDonalds. I choose to eat uninventively. Then we wandered around the city a little bit and ended up at the Purple Emerald, which is where the jazz was happening. I HATE THAT NAME. The Purple Emerald? Man, that doesn't make sense. That's like naming something The Blue Orange. It can't possibly be that colour, and if it was, it would cause widespread alarm. Within a matter of seconds, I got over my confusion and went inside.

We ended up sitting way down the back of the bar, near a video game that was a lot like space invaders with the title "Latest Game". On one side, there were timber blinds that blocked out the view of a brightly-lit concrete carpark. It was cool. Rosie's boyfriend and his friends turned up to join us after about an hour and a half of us sitting there on cushiony things, talking about stuff. I went to get myself a drink - coke, nothing special (it's McDonalds' fault for making me addicted to the stuff). I stepped on a piece of chewing gum. Some of it stuck to my shoe, and as I walked away, it stayed stuck on the ground as well and a long thin gum rope ran between my foot and the bar. I shook my foot around, but it just wouldn't give up. I started walking to my spot, confident the damn thing would break off eventually, but nope, it just kept stretching. It stretched for a good several metres until it finally gave up and went home.

There had been non-live jazz playing in the background, but when the live jazz started, I didn't notice. I ate the ice blocks in the bottom of my coke. There weren't nearly as many ice blocks as they had shoved into my drink when I went to Abyss. The live jazz was really good. The three jazzy guys jazzed up a jazzy storm. They were really tight. Rosie and I went and looked at the jazzy guys, and we found some more comfy couches on our journey, so we moved over there. We could then see the jazz properly.

There were two mirrorballs in the corner, twirling around and doing that throwing light onto the walls thing that they do best. I've always thought that the little dot pattern that they make looks a lot like a bunch of lipstick marks. It looks like a heap of women puckered up and kissed the walls a lot. I thought that two mirrorballs next to each other was overdoing it. I said to Rosie, "I wonder why they think they can have two mirrorballs in the corner. That's a bit cocky." She said, "That's a bit ballsy," and believe me, this was amazingly funny at the time. We laughed heartily for a few minutes, and then Rosie picked up a postcard of an ugly smiling baby.

That's all I have to say about jazz today.