Some of the kinchi boys were goading me to write about vista days. Hell, no. There ain’t no weed strong enough to make me high enough to want to write about those vista days. Don’t get me wrong. It was probably close to the perfect Youthful Days experience: impossible to repeat, incredible to recount, grossly indecent, recklessly hedonistic and brimming with excessive angst…. how did we even survive?! One of the most repeated remarks I get about vista days is that you could not walk a straight line across the living room to the front door without having to tiptoe over so many unidentified sleeping bodies. That probably sums it up best. A living room full of people – friends, strangers, family – no one could tell the difference. We were the original united colours of benetton.
Well…maybe I’ll write about it next week. Get ready to deny deny deny.