Listening to: "Freedom 90" by George Michael (A cheesy pop icon but a great songwriter. I dare anyone to dig up an old album and read the lyrics. He's brilliant.)
Eating: a Chinese herbal concoction made by my mother. Any Chinese kid will tell you the thing they dreaded most was drinking his/her mom's soup o' the week that is supposedly good for preventing cancer, pimples or painful urination. I'm drinking it to humour her. Ingredients: dried scallop, onions, some root, some kind of berry and the lining of a fish's stomach. Not exactly Campbell's Chicken Noodle, I tell ya.
Wearing: black drawstring pants from Club Monaco, black utilitarian shirt from Zara, black CK socks and a black t-shirt from Zellers. Yes, I wear Zellers too.
Last night I went to Turbo with a bunch of Shannon's friends. I have to say that I LOVE jungle. It's gotta be the music of life. The pumping beats, the kidney shaking basslines and the deafening samples. And the best thing? I got in for free because of Rob, who's DJ Doublecross.
Clubbing is so much fun. Once in a while though. I don't want to go too much so that each time I go, it's a new experience. Jungle parties are so wicked because the vibe is there right when you get into the doors. I mean, a whole shitload of peeps are there just to hear that repetitive beat. And everyone gets so into it. And the thing is, none of the people I was with (who are all extremely intelligent and cool) did hardcore drugs. It's so much different than nasty raves in underground venues. I mean, we were chilling at Jeremy's apartment and a third of us were talking about books. THEY READ! There's so many misconceptions about ravers. I'm sure people on the street see my big pants and think I must wear wide-leg pajama pants to bed or that I just listen to "da beats" all day in my room. (I'm going to write an entry about misconceptions next!)
Footnote: Hot guys talking about what books they're reading really turn me on. Especially partyer guys who wear baggy pants. I love the juxtaposition because they project this stereotypical image of a regular slacker X-er but if only the ignorant people knew what they were all about. Okay, this is killing me! I HAVE to write another entry after...
Anyway, the night ended up with Jane getting her bag stolen so that really put a downer on the whole shindig.
But I DID get to drink my ass off, DANCE my ass off (my knees are dead) and ride the bus home with all the daysleepers going to work. Toronto at 4 AM is full of old farts who've been kicked out of bars (hence the whiskey breath when they ask you which way is north) and European couples in tight pants looking for their hotels.
Well, I guess that's a generalization. I'm sure European people wear other kinds of pants too.
