I fell in love with the bearded michelin trapeze lady

25 Jun

As a pudgy 10 year old making her way to school each day, I spent an inordinate amount of time weaving intricate fantasies about boys from De La Salle and St Kevin’s (and uncannily similar to bad film clips of the same vintage) and wondering what my life was going to be like as an adult. As will surprise no one, there were definite opinions and visuals to be met.

The ten-year-old Amoir would have been rather tickled to see what weekends might be ahead of her. An opening night party for Glenn Barr‘s latest exhibition at Outre, preening at Pellegrinis, dancing around the Palazzo del Polo Shirt, running about the city to take photos of graffiti, debating with the dub about art and perversion before glamming up to pout at a Burlesque show (where, it’s true, I became madly smitten with Azaria Universe and was dumbstruck in breataking awe at the Burlesque Hour. I am a wet noodle toyed around Moira Finucane’s expert fingers.) Plus, in a short while, I get to hold my little warrior daughter.

Naturally, as with all ten year olds and their plans, it’s a superficial goal that is easily tarnished and dented. The ten year old wouldn’t see the bills or the workload, she’d see the grin on your face as you bounced back from grabbing a coffee or the effusive hugs from friends.

Anyone else suddenly realised they’re following the life plan of a ten year old? It is slightly concerning to realise I’m following such a plan, given I also thought I had a chance with Neil Tennant (which totally explains this).

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