So lately I’ve been out a lot.
From time to time I get into those party modes when I can be out almost every night, barely sleep and go on looking like a zombie, but feeling alive as never before. I get anxious, restless, exhausted and happy. Those nights to remember, except for the remember part.
When I keep having lunch for breakfast.
New York can be a really weird place sometimes. Tuesday Night. Four bars, Rooftop party in the rain, Rib-less vampires in the jacuzzi and Cindy Lauper hanging out in the club like no one’s business.
As sick ( literally ) and tired I usually am on Sundays (The eternal conflict between body and soul. When the spirit screams "go out!" and the body says "fuck you") I still can’t wait for another weekend. Two weeks ago, my friend and I drove to Long Island, where I drank who knows how many vodka-red bulls, stayed up till 5, almost had a heart attack, slept two hours. We got up, bought bagels and coffee and drove to Fire Island early in the morning, to have breakfast at the beach. I don’t have to tell you, how does it make you feel. Atlantic at 9 am…
Maybe it was the summer of poor choices, but oh well. Sometimes you need to dance stuff away.
The scars of your love remind me of us, they keep me thinking that we almost…
Keeping you posted
