“Hey Elly, its Luke from last Saturday. Hows ya nyte going? What are you up to?”

And then

“Any chance ya mite let me take ya out sumtime?”

I half cringe at my phone. Its 1am, and I’m still out, surrounded by friends and family. I take another sip of my (fourth? Fifth?) wine, and I’m grateful he mentioned his name and where I met him. I wouldn’t have remembered, otherwise. I’m not really sure how this part of the dating dance goes, but I’m not interested, hey. Its been a week, and I don’t really remember who you are.

I realise that I should probably stop giving my number out to boys who ask for it. Its just, what are you meant to do, when they are looking at you with puppy dog eyes, and that stupidly charming grin? Say no? It just seems easier to hand it over than to cause a scene. They worked up the courage, and it just seems heartless to say no. Also, there was that one time where I got snapped giving out a wrong number. Fail. Embarrassing on both sides, that one.

I reply with some polite small talk (“Nights going good, just out with some friends.”) No questions that need replying to, nothing that could be considered overly keen. I ignore the second txt. Please just disappear into the night. Please please please.

I really should stop doing this. As I flick through my contact list, every third or so entry is a name and a bar: “Josh @The Crib”, “Sam @Neighbourhood”, “Mike @BrewBar”. It seems rather ridiculous, really. But I’m worried that if I delete them, they’ll txt and I’ll have to do that ‘who are you? What do you want?’ spiel.

I sigh. I’m over this. I’m over playing the frivolous dating dance. I’m over trying to figure out what they want, whether they are looking for a happy and platonic friendship, or something more. I’m at the point where I’m happy with my lot. Happy with my friends, happy with the adventures, and happy with the complete lack of drama.

I’m just not looking for anything. Not for dates, or happily ever afters, or even here and nows. I’m happy to talk to you, and I’m always cool with friending new, interesting people. The more the merrier, right? But really? I’m not interested in an average nothing with a stranger. I’m just not interested.

So I should just tell, him, right? I flick him back a txt, a quick:

“Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I’m not really interested. Sorry, hey.”

Almost immediately I get a reply:

“Np. Have a gud nite!”

I’m glad it was as easy as that, a gentle, no fuss let down. An easy disengage, and we move on. He was probably a brilliant guy, I’m sure. He could have been amazing, and there might have been a happy forever, and all the what-ifs float through my head. But really? It all comes down to I’m not really interested. Sorry, hey.

And Dudley is a giant, huge, brilliant giant dog, a cross between a Poodle and a Golden Retriever. And he is AMAZING. I’ve been having a really, really horrible week (honestly, deadlines actually just bring out the worst in people) so when I rocked up to the amazing Barkley Manor to pick up Quinn, and Dudley was hanging out? I didn’t hesitate to play and cuddle and hang out with him.

I actually love how huge he is. No, actually. Check him out in comparison to Quinn. Check out how his head IS BIGGER THAN MINE.

I’m appreciating the simple things right now, and a dog that knows you want a hug when you hold your arms out? He’s a dog you spend half an hour cuddling with.

As I write this, the timer on the wall is at 29:23:24. Chris is playing “Faith” for what I’m sure is the third time. I recognize most the faces in the bar, in various states of exhaustion, drinking either coffee or beer, or wine.

Yeah, its an odd time. But we’re all here because Christopher, the amazing brilliant boy who used to sing ridiculously corny love songs down the phone line when were 17, is trying for the Guiness World Record of Longest Solo Performance. Ohhh yeah. The current record sits at 32 hours, and this crazy mad wonderful boy is trying for 36. We’re in the home stretch now, and people clap and cheer at the end of every song, and at the end of every hour completed.

I was here when he kicked off at 9am yesterday morning. I was here for most of the day, and I drank a stupid amount of alcohol last night (oh Jager shots, you are never a good idea!). I had intended to stay, but at around 5am the amazing Lyth made sure I dragged my sorry ass home safe and sound.

And then a few short hours I’m back. And it’s been brilliant. I’ve danced and twirled with many people (the bar staff, friends, strangers, and even a cop in uniform!), we’ve sung along till our throats were hoarse and croaky. And I love this atmosphere, so many people have come together to support one of their own. Chris, being so determined to finish, and raising a stupid amount of money for the Cancer Society (donate here, if you like).

I will be here at 6pm, when he breaks the current record of 32 hours. I will be here at 7pm, when he sets a new record of 33 hours of a solid solo performance. I will cheer, and support and sing along with him, and the many other people who are here to support and love and help Chris cross the 33 hour finish line.

I can hear the warble in his voice, and his arms are sweaty, and his fingers look like they are cramping. But he’s still making jokes mid song. Still singing, still rocking out. He’s playing all the songs we know and love. He’s going to make it. I’m stupidly proud. World Records are made to be broken. Go you good thing!

12 Hour Mark

22 Hour Mark

33 Hour Mark (World Record Beat at 3:15. I won’t lie, I got teary at the time).

Find him at christopher-reed.com, on twitter, or on facebook.

[edit] In true rockstar style, Chris broke the world record, and performed 33 hours straight. It was an epic effort, he raised a couple of thousand for the Cancer Society, and is honestly a rockstar. I’m so so proud of him, glad I could have been there to support, glad that I was witness to such a mad weekend. Woo! [/edit]

Generally, I don’t listen to the radio. There isn’t one at work, and I don’t have a band expander in my car. I don’t watch tv, generally, so I rarely watch music videos (apart from the rare times at Kenwyn when The Second Quarter has the Juice Channel on). So generally, I only get new music when its been thrown in my face by other people, with “OMG – You must listen!”. Except that that situation happens less and less as time goes on.

So lately, I’ve been making the effort to discover new sounds, sweet crooning melodies, and clever drops, and lyrics I want to sing along to (even if an open plan office). I’ve been scouring the internet, and have discovered some clever places like downplayer, that provide 10 free mp3s everyday. There have been a few blogs here and there, and I’ve come across a few songs which I’m loving, but generally it means trolling through alot of crap I don’t like to get to stuff I do. Where do you find your sounds? And what are you listening to right now?

Anyway, in the interest of sharing, this is what my July sounds like, so far:

Kandi – One Eskimo

Welcome Home – Radical Face

Meet me in the City – The Black Keys

The Underwood Typewriter – Fionn Regan

Hustlin – Rick Ross (Prince of Ballard Remix)

Oh June. What happened in June? I crossed another something off The List (post to come, I’m still editing the video, I’ve been a bit slack). I started painting my nails again, I’ve been a social bunny really. My best friend came back for a bit. I started Maori lessons. Completely failed at going to the gym, and instead did a silly amount of cocktail drinking and expensive dinners. I did some baking, rediscovered my love for Kenwyn, indulged in much cuddling, and watched an awful lot of soccer.

And I’ve been super slack about uploading photos. And taking any kind of imaginative photos. Sigh. Still, I made it to June. I’m less than a hundred photos from the end. That’s SO mind blowing!

The last thirty days:

1st of June 2010 to 30th June 2010. 268 down. 97 to go.

Past Months: October, November, December, January, February, March, April, May.