straight to the top

Yup, more of the same shit, endless parties, VIPs, backstages, guest lists, catching stray glances, staying up way too late, waking up Austrian artists at 4am for more shenanigans, it's becoming a pattern. Do I care? No. In one night, I went from the side of the Canal Saint Martin, to the Marais, and then to the Cité des Arts, then up to Pigalle, and then back to Menilmontant, all for an endless stretch music appreciation... if we can call getting jammed with old frequencies music anymore. People are dripping in grey pockets all over this city.

Last night, at Vincent's birthday party, some guy cut off my Snoop Doggy Dogg song to put on some very lame and bad aggressive techno. I looked at him with my patented "what the fuck asshole?!" look. He said the music was old. It was in that split second that I knew we are regressing. Shrugged my shoulders, took his champagne, and drank it all in one gulp... then said thanks. But he was nice and came back afterwards with some excuses. Of course he had to make up.... people left after he took over DJ duties.

Anyways, it's Sunday, and now the only thing I really have to fear is the how slippery dog poo can be when there's rain, and finding out there's no orange juice in the fridge.

On a great note, I have been thoroughly sucked into a new TV series. Lost, on ABC. Yes, count me among the many who suck up this kind of Survivor/Twin Peaks drivel. Still, there is something so delicious and decadent about watching 7 hours of this shit, without break, and never having to hold out for the next week. I suppose, tonight, when I get up to Episode 20, I'll start going through withdrawal symptoms.