Crack of dawn. Stupid on a Sunday, I know.
My neighbour's party went on till 4am, and now I know what descarga is; it's that jamming with drums thing to a salsa-ish rhythm. And Williams Cumberbach is both breathtakingly beautiful and shy. There was much drinking of beer, wine, spirits and many other addicitve/non-addictive substances. I know; it was in the garden and the smell of the addicitve/non-addictive substances wafted up to my bedroom window. It was practically a contact-high.
Because I knew that the party would go on forever, I went out in the middle to the JC in Kentish Town to hang out with assorted Barbeloids and other online folk. It's dead interesting meeting people in the flesh. And when they've had a few drinks. Believe me.
D came over 11ish, and impressed women with his South-American looks. Even though he's from Woodside Park. And saved me from my neighbour's friend who's conversation went something like this "you ees married? boyfriend? wanna fuck?". Can you believe I turned down an offer like that?
Because motivation is not my middle name, I'm going to write down what I plan to do today. I have a habit of intending to do things, and then not quite making it. Even if they're nice things. So here goes. I'm going to be in the gym at 9am and go for a twenty minute run, and other stuff. I'm going to go to something too embarassing to write here, at 11am. I'm going to reward myself this afternoon by going to A's birthday party (which will probably include more drums/drugs) and tonight to see D (different D) in her singy thing in the Suburb.
I live on the edge, right? Later.