I’m either adopted from some Montenegrin or just extremely tired of everything. I hardly do anything in a day! And why? Get this! Read the first line of my previous post, and now go figure – now I sleep all day. Seriously, I wake up hardly waiting to go back to sleep. And I wake up just to do the “important” things of the day. Now imagine my priorities changing.🙂 I swing like a pregnant woman’s mood. So typical.
Anyway, today’s mission was for Dax Photo. The Ljubljana Wine Trail. Sure, our primal alcohol need makes us celebrate the coming of new wine just like we celebrate the coming of a new year. Sooner or later, we’ll have fireworks when must pops up a first fermentation bubble. Still don’t know when “Have kids, grow a tree and write a book” turned into “Have kids, grow vine, get drunk every friday night, and show your kids how to do it”.
Imagine someone who’d probably endorse prohibition if he ever became president (so be grateful for the candidates we’re voting tomorrow and vote for the lesser evil) going to a wine festival. I did quite well actually. Nobody really felt their life mission to sell or even treat me with a glass of wine. No one tried to convince me that wine is as important as water and that people who don’t drink are abnormal. (Oh, yeah, we even have polititians in this country that believe that. And this is not Russia, mind you.)
A self-portrait. See if you can find me.
It was a beautiful day, sunny, a little windy, but thats ok, it blew the smell of alcohol away. But guess what I did when I came home. You got it! Went to sleep. And the dreams I’m having, well, that’s something Stephen King would have a field day with. Out of the ordinary, last night I was taking pictures of P!nk, because there weren’t any other photographers around. Hell, there wasn’t even an audience around. It was like some village party in a small community hall of some godforsaken nowhere town. About two people showed up. Retirees that can’t hear her anyway. Stephen King’s Desperation, I tell you. All we needed was a homicidal cop. But here’s the fun part. No guards, no fences, all access for everyone – I figure those oldies can’t even crawl to the backstage. It was a strain to get from the entrance to the last row of wooden chairs (yap… would you believe it :)), and those cruches aren’t what they used to be. Let alone running after P!nk and jumping her. Although that depends on the colour of the pills they’re taking. If they include the blue one, they might be dangerous, considering they are allowed to bring weapons (cruches, that is) to the concert.
No, it’s no use. The last time I had one, it got eaten by moths!
Indians in Ljubljana.
My next tatoo.
Well, that’s it. Lots of accreditations still pending. Fingers crossed. My dejavus are predicting shit’s gonna hit the fan soon, or I’ll finally get my big chance (and blow it). But before that, it’s off to the elections tomorrow. I’ve been a member of the voting committee at the preliminary polls in my home town for several years and I still haven’t got completely used to it. Mostly because people always surprise me. I could pull out statistics from what I’ve seen. But that’s where I live. Tomorrow, we were added a new polling station. It’s not enough to give slackers and comfortable people who wish to enjoy sunday or (given the time) drink it out the privilege to vote beforehand. No, we have to offer them the chance to vote in a different town. They went on it like fish on a bait. So I’m working tomorrow at seven, enjoying the functionally illiterate, mostly blind and forgetful when it comes to glasses and ID’s (surely, I don’t need an ID when I go about, do I?) and of course the voting invitations where their number is stated so I can FIND YOU in the register!!! Needless to say, we get an oldie who’s simply too comfortable in his/her life that we should fill out the form (that they are voting beforehand) fro them. Their lame excuse is that they don’t have their glasses with them – even though they’re sitting on their nose!!!