|Part of Speech:
|self-referential; referring to itself or its characteristics, esp. as a parody; about
|That book is so meta.
As boldly promised on Friday here is my review of the final UPFM Spring Break for the year. After some careful social engineering we coerced my wife’s brother into conveying us safely to Spring Break. The weather had been a mixed bag earlier and it was with some relief that the sun surfaced and remained with us for the duration.
It is at this point(the second paragraph) I have quite a large confession to make. It appears the cooler climate, good music, familiar faces and BBQ sausages make gin and tonic far more potent than is healthy. My Vietnamese hat also seemed to enhance gin and tonic to ridiculous levels. Sadly I do not remember anything from about 2pm till 7pm. This where I have to add some serious meta to this review.
With careful considered questioning and invasive memory interrogation I have managed to put together a highlights reel which should contain enough mirth and information to tide you over until the next time I feel like venturing into public.
-The pool was fabulously warm. It was so warm I did not leave the pool until well after the music stopped. If you read my last point you will find this is a slight miss truth
-The surrounding pool rocks baffled the sound so sufficiently that I do not remember any of the music after I entered the pool.
-Vietnamese conical hats act as impressive buoyancy devices. The string attached round the hat helped me splutter to life when the water encroached on my breathing.
-There was a curiously strange Canadian who was playing shark with the good ladies of the pool. At some point I stood on him and then bemoaned large tracts of skin that had detached from my toes. I do not know if he was a close relation of a sucker fish, but I bet he feels like a sucker.
-At 4pm I attempted to reach out to another galaxy using the time honoured back on the ground limbs in the air method of intergalactic incommunicado. Someone recorded a movie of this and I shall upload it when I stop feeling so incredibly stupid.
In summary, it was a fantastic party and I would not have missed it for the world. Why is it then, that I feel like I missed it?
Footnote: Some of the feedback attained from writing this article has been brain damaging. I have since found solace in the wise words of philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche.
For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication.