decadence

OK i apologise for the low-quality pics i've been posting. I've got an iPhone and it really isn't any good at taking photos. Also i spend much of my time in dark, dingy and disgusting parts of the city and without a flash you can pretty much lick your own balls before i have crisp photographics happening.

To the point of this pizzle (post) and we are at the Ruby Rabbit nightclub in Darlinghurst, lounging on a luggish Victorian armchair on the 'exclusive' (wank-wank) top floor.

It's hella dark in there, the furniture is archaic and the people...interesting. When i was there last Saturday not one person was good-looking. But they were all rich. I know that because they were dancing raucously to pointless 80s classics (Prince, INXS et. al.), paying $10 for spirits and taking turns in the bathroom, filled with mirrors and sofa toilets...yes fucking SOFA TOILETS, to rack up their Eastern Suburbs substances.

A very cool venue, just lacking music i liked that night. The opulence was sickening, in a decadent way - hello Joris-Karl Huysmans - and i had to get out.

Before leaving i'd like to thank the lady that got me in. She hopped in my cab and dragged me on her midnight drug-run, got my arm stamped at the door for any of the three levels then motioned with her scaly fingers "Go, have fun" then sniffed the words back through her hollow nostrils.