I get this feeling, a soft lurch in my sternum, inside the energetic movement is this deep, tragic loss. I can’t touch through the membrane in which the feeling is contained. It comes and goes.
Today I woke up at 8:30, all refreshed, like “damn, the extra 15 minutes makes all the difference!
I picked up my shirt at the tailor, it was €11, then I got tofu and soy sauce at Itin Food (only just looked at the receipt and noticed the wordplay). After working on music, posting on my blog, and drawing for a little bit I was ready for a vodka soda, Alexis and I went to Ins Supermercato.
Jacopo came over with a bunch of pistachio cream pastries and prosecco, made dinner for him and Nicolas. I planned a party with Akanksha and Antti. I made a playlist for the party. I went downstairs, gathered friends, and went to the party.
At the party, I got white-kid-wasted. I danced as much as I would have if I was sober. I talked more than I would have if I was sober. The going-home-parade landed in our flat. I was thinking of making pasta, having skipped dinner (clear correlation to my level of intoxication). When the neighbors came to complain I made a beeline for my room, hid under the covers, and promptly fell asleep.