Dear x,


You’re invited to a party.


This party is in the past, the present and the future.


It is about to happen. Right now.


We will pick you up and take you there.


This party is in celebration of You and all that You are.

Your name. Your memory. Your legacy. A party in celebration

of Your love of good times and great classic hits. A party in

celebration of Your desire to be remembered. A very natural

desire for all of us.


Only children are simple enough to ask really clever questions.

Like, how can we remember the past and not the future? Most

of us could not adequately explain this particular quandary of

quantum physics. In reply to this innocent inquisition we would

feel condescending, both the child and to our own lack of knowledge

regarding the very basics of life as we know it. But this quandary

shall be made redundant by our party.


Just as elephants drink to forget, tonight we drink to the opposite.

A toast. To your memory. Here 9 hours in the future, before you have

even arrived, in Sydney Australia (a place you might not have even

ever been to), your legacy is in place. And as the Earth turns over the

next 9 hours you will feel yourself catching up to your own memory;

your own legacy; your own self that will be here waiting for you when

you arrive.


Here’s to you, x.




Georgie and Malcolm. x


– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –


An invitation / dedication to a selected audience member in Sylvia Rimat’s

<a href=”” target=”_blank”>I guess if the stage exploded</a>