Saturday, January 2, 2010
it's a new year, a new list and a new ailment. I have an ingrown hair in my groin.
And I didn't manage to leave myself behind this time either.
I hate party hopping. I always have, always will.
Just when you start to enjoy yourself somewhere, your friends drag you on to the next location. This constant chase not to miss a thing, makes you miss everything.
It's my eyes glued to the iphone that makes me miss the flicker of a soul orgasm flickering across a plain friend's face beautifying it beyond your imagination for a split second.
I was with Abby, Thora and Chris. We started out at a house party in Silverlake that Abby had been invited to. It was the usual area hipsters. Lots of crippling heels and nerd glasses (that's not a good combo, if you ask me. Which you don't). The Gossip and MGMT on the stereo. Champagne and snow. I was talking to a dude about starting a band together. It was just one of those snow-covered conversations, nothing but fluff, but I was enjoying it. Then my friends wanted to go to another house party in the Hollywood Hills. That party was terrible. Just a bunch of cloned blondes and their greasy male friends. I was poking fun at one guy without him realizing. That was hilarious. I was just; that is SOOOO interesting, that is SOOOO rad, as he talked about small parts in B-movies that he had landed. Then I stole a bottle of Dom Perignon from a cooler on the terrace before we headed to the next destination. We didn't make it there in time for twelve o'clock. Instead we shared the champagne with our cab driver, stalled in traffic on Sunset. It was the highlight of the evening.
We hit three other parties, none of them memorable. Conversations were dull, people strange and I felt numb.