something something karaoke with strangers, lots of black label johnny, the girl who understands, long haired canadian waifs, probably the nicest guy in the world, a swiss financier who rapidly devolved into a class A creep, a slightly sleepy 33-year old, canadians, soft spoken pinoys, more taylor swift than i’ve ever put up with since living with j., understanding love songs, understanding break up songs, late-late-night kfc, and feeling unabashedly happy, if somewhat aware of my age and my hoarseness, for the first time in a while.
After several confusingly hazy days, the sun has finally escaped from its prison of smog. Dusk is serene, even in the hinterlands of Shanghai: the last bits of rose glinting off the tops of skyscrapers; toddlers scampering through the green (green everywhere); the smells of dinner and charcoal wafting in through my half-cracked window; and the wavering, pure notes of a reed flute, soaring into humid air as the city slowly lights its lamps.
Shanghai beckons, and I know I should be out there living it up - wandering the winding streets on the other side of the river, or inhaling the smoke and sweat and (free) booze, or Being Young. But I’ll pass, on the pretenses of working, working overtime on my project like the overeager intern I never was. Or of letting my jet-lagged boss/roommate back into the apartment, so he can muster a few hours of rests before he plasters on a smile and genial laughter and a firm handshake. And hell, messing around on Excel until 1am doesn’t sound all that pathetic when you consider the alternative (reality?): curling up on my poor excuse of a futon, armed with a bar Ikea chocolate, a full bottle of Tsing-Tao, a half-used box of tissues, a bag for the used tissues, and a harddrive full of Parks and Recreation. All this sad scenario is missing is a cat. And maybe some knitting.
This morning I
1. Woke up.
2. Found myself on the floor.
3. Drank a gallon of water.
4. Thought about last night.
5. Said, “FUCK.”
Need serious damage control right now.
Usual equation: me + alcohol = me getting trashed, kissing people, picking up people, passing out on the floor, etc.
This time: me + alcohol = me running around with water, getting kissed (6x), and getting picked up (10x, ok I get it dudes, I’m small), and people plastered all over my living room floor.
Something is wrong with this picture, but lololololol
Me: The jacket fits reaaalllllly well but the pants are a bit tight around my butt
Mom: You need to lose weight.
Me: I’ve already lost 5 lbs since school started!
Sister: That suit is only 50 dollars. Lose 5 more lbs.
Lol thanks guys.
“For your homework assignment……..make a sandwich. With a $25 loaf of brioche”
“I’m not buying a fucking $25 loaf of brioche. I can make that shit for $4!”
“You better fucking buy it. From [redacted due to fuzzy memory], none the less. Or I am failing your ass!”
This then shifted into traveling with my family through Cambodian ruins for some unclear, presumably illegal purpose and picking up various roommates past along the way.
Let’s make some brioche.
Wine is a sun in a garment of red Chinese silk.
It flows; its source is the flask.
Drink, then, in the pleasance of time, since our day
Is a day of delight which has brought dew.