we were pretty well-prepared for the ICFTHS#1 birthday party, and took the day slowly - fine-tuning sets in the morning and shopping for gimmicks in the afternoon. there was a nervousness, for sure, but we were resigned to fate, for better or worse, disaster or success.
was success. place filled up early - for the cocktail promotion, maybe (cheap 'sea breezes', natch). new residents on the block threatened to mute the mood by insisting on our using the limiter (last time we did this, the system tripped three times and left us with a crashed computer and dead silence), but we were careful, backed each other up - like sailors on a ship heading into a storm. in the event, it was fine... we locked down on the controls, kept one psychotic eye on the LED... mindless hedonism ensued.
packed up, waved goodbye, strode manfully to party, and bathed in compliments. saturday morning, bought books - short biographies of philosophers, something on the creative process and a handbook of conspiracy theories. that evening, a birthday meal for drivey, italian, then to my friend, editor and soon-to-be housemate's new 'unpop' night. he played culty mainstream, wore a fedora. paris and i ended up one-on-one at ok hip-hop club, squirrelled away in corner, getting-to-know-you and, yeah... walked her home in aching cold. walked self home in colder.
sunday was semi-productive. after almost a month of thinking, note-taking, txt-generating, actually started applying the results of my labours to the first draft of 'back to the sea'. revised first four scenes before claw of fatigue closed my eyes. i'd wake up the next morning with a sore throat.
progress on short film: spent tuesday night at pic's place, talking thru the rough draft, feeling toward the next. walked home thru winter chill with manuscript grown over with notes, had second draft - much stronger - ready for deadline of friday. that i accomplished this thru mental fog of mild illness a minor triumph, voice slowing to standstill by wednesday, a rasp that buzzed at the back of my throat.
this weekend was a speed blur. 'stop making friends' guilty pleasures night - in which everyone takes songs that they know are uncool, or plain wrong, but sincerely love - madd busy. drivey had hit of the night - 'butterfly' by crazy town... i tried 5ive's 'battlestar'. philistines slept on it.
saturday = Lo-Res, and a variable attendance... unleashed the anger bomb that was 'cityliving' (thx to hungry ghost and tick-tock) on 'em, a guest 'unpop' set, the usual. after, to 'detournement'... where i became destroyed. swaying with paris, on edge dancefloor. cutting to a taxi ride, a borrowed cardigan, a cocktail party and complete loss, sense of space and time. girls sitting in my lap, boys at my feet, fishing a can of beer from a friend's hand as he slumped to the floor, talking too much, talking pretty much endlessly, no gate on this road, no dam on this river. left at six, woke up less sick, re-postered town, ate quarterpounders, 'happiness of the katakouris'.