“I have Social Disease. I have to go out every night. If I stay home one night I start spreading rumours to my dogs.”
― Andy Warhol
Fuck it. Parties are beautiful things. Enjoy them before they become your funeral.
I wrote this when I was quite solidly drunk on Saturday night. Keeping up with these daily updates are kind of hard when you have to drive eight hours in a day. Stress is mess.
It was a good night but I crashed early because I was supremely tired by the drive. I was awoken at twelve when everyone came to bed which is fine, if you pike early you really have no rights. But, if two of you slink in three hours later and continue to talk in a room full sleeping people I reserve the right to tell you to shut the fuck up. Also, don’t wake up at Six AM and chat. Everyone can hear you and secretly hate you.
I had forgotten how unpleasant sleeping at parties were, even in the comfort of my own swag which is like sleeping on Barry White’s voice. It will be a long time before I do again.