don't let me go, don't cry tonight
It's one of those days that screams langour after decadence and a thorough scrubbing. I took a bath and a shower today, to scrub away last night's excess. Outside, it's hot and damp with a hazy sky and fitful clouds. The light is peculiar, half tone. I'm wearing my strawberry moon perfume and a lotion that smells exactly like iced black tea. I feel spectacular and summery.
Metro is playing some 80s band that I can't quite recognize but remember in that distant strange way. Last night in Fado there was a musican doing covers of 90s songs that made me intensely nostalgic in a way that is easier than usual. Things like "Cumbersome," "Mr. Jones," the Goo Goo Dolls, Spin Doctors and some other things I loved in my early teens. Later there was a handsome DJ playing an absurd but incredibly delightful mix of 80s things like "Paradise City," "Baby Got Back," Madonna and a techno cover of "Take me Home West Virginia."
Of course, all this was made even more enjoyable by whiskey and cherry vodka sours. I stopped counting my drinks after 4 or 5 and I'm sure I had about twice that many, given the fact that my wallet was empty of cash this morning. I was thankfully not drunk enough to dance, but drunk enough to use to my phone and send insane messages. Tyler and Sarah provided me with excellent company, and a driver so I could be as intoxicated as my black little heart desired. It was a nice thing, just what I've needed. I'm relieved on a few private scores.
Metro is playing some 80s band that I can't quite recognize but remember in that distant strange way. Last night in Fado there was a musican doing covers of 90s songs that made me intensely nostalgic in a way that is easier than usual. Things like "Cumbersome," "Mr. Jones," the Goo Goo Dolls, Spin Doctors and some other things I loved in my early teens. Later there was a handsome DJ playing an absurd but incredibly delightful mix of 80s things like "Paradise City," "Baby Got Back," Madonna and a techno cover of "Take me Home West Virginia."
Of course, all this was made even more enjoyable by whiskey and cherry vodka sours. I stopped counting my drinks after 4 or 5 and I'm sure I had about twice that many, given the fact that my wallet was empty of cash this morning. I was thankfully not drunk enough to dance, but drunk enough to use to my phone and send insane messages. Tyler and Sarah provided me with excellent company, and a driver so I could be as intoxicated as my black little heart desired. It was a nice thing, just what I've needed. I'm relieved on a few private scores.