tigerpig

so, on friday im minding my own business at the marque club, drinking and having a good time and asking myself "what would Motley Crue do?" when stef walks over to me and asks me that question that i seem to be hearing rather a lot lately. you know that one. the "are you embrassing yourself again?" question.

So i stand up, dust off my knees and say "no, oh course not. just playing guitar to paradise city".

mental note to self: don't play air guitar in public NO MATTER HOW COOL YOU THINK YOU LOOK.

afters, we went to liz and hoyden's new squat. it was full of punks. it was like hanging out in the kensington street zoo but cleaner and with better lighting. there was even a punk falling down the stairs and breaking the bannisters on his way down (oh so punk), not entirely unlike the time shanna, mike and dan had the fistycuffs over the last bottle of beer. ewan made us walk home and i was cold and grumpy.

the twin peaks party was tres choice, and for some reason, god in all his wisdom decided not to strike me down with a hangover or the plague, nor do i have to apoligise to too many people for my behaviour. though, i think there was some fighting over the stereo because i wanted to listen to lots of new zealand music and sing quite a bit. rupert made an exceptional bob, which is weird that that look should suit someone i know so well. someone brought a log and i ate it. susan tied cherry stems in bows a la audry.

yesterday me and boy went to greenwich for a film festival, but not being too bright, decided to get a bus. three hours later when we arrived we decided we didnt want to go after all , so we went home to hold hands, gaze into each others eyes, sigh and finish each others sentences. yeah. thats what we did.