Dearest Pink,
I know you are in Australia at the moment and in Sydney again soon. Please agree to have an interview with me for this blog. Here are the reasons I would love to interview you:
I believe you are an intelligent, talented woman with something to say. (Okay, so I just had to get the blatant flattery out of the way first). Anyone with the guts to publicly question the actions of the (previous) ‘Leader of the free world’ is someone I would love to sit down with for an evening (along with a glass of wine, of course).
There aren’t many musicians who inspire me to dance and ponder my own thoughts at the same time (even if my dancing makes me look as if I’m having a seizure). I consider it multi-tasking. You seem game to break the ‘social norms’. What those are exactly and why they exist, neither of us is exactly sure. ‘Normal’ is a pointlessly negative word. I hear you like bikes, I have a fast wheelchair … yes, I’m thinking ‘road race’.
We can compare tattoos. Show and tell.You seem to have a dark, quirky sense of humour. So do I. You seem to do the things people least expect of you, just because you can – no one expects you to say yes to this interview.
So, what do you say? P.S. I would make some reference to getting this party started, but I thought that it might have been a bit to obvious.

Freya
Going shopping – observances of things that remain true
Yesterday I did something radical. I took a day of leave just to go shopping and spend time with a friend. I’ve never done that before. It was awesome and I totally recommend it. My brain took a nice deep breath, but my eyes were still on alert and I noticed a lot of things.
Firstly, weekdays between 11 am and 4 pm must be ‘stare at those who are mildly different’ day for the elderly. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not normally one to notice such things. I’m way too happy in my own little world, but yesterday, every white haired person seemed to look my way with a puzzled expression. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s some new equal opportunity for your eyesight scheme that I’ve yet to hear of, or maybe my flatmate had written something on my head that only the over 80s could see. Regardless, I really wanted to do a little dance for their enjoyment.
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