seven days and seven nights of life in london..
Friday
I awoke early for yet another day shift at work where I was met by Kyle, my best friend simply because one day we decided we would be best friends and ever since then it has been true. He's an English-born actor and I get along with him famously, very lucky considering we spend nearly every day together in one way or another. It was a surprisingly quiet day for how warm it was outside, spring has sprung in London and everyone is smiling (a strange phenomenon in London) and Pimms-ing it up in Soho Square.
That evening I headed home and began drinking with my wonderful housemates. They decided they were all heading out for Shoreditch Fridays, where we don't leave the square mile around our house - not a problem when you live in the East End where every arty, indie, electro, polysexual club has decided to set up shop. I had plans to meet Kyle however and so very drunkenly headed over to King's Cross to go to Popstarz - a massive queer alternative night in an amazing old theatre called the Scala. After finding out we hadn't been put on the guest list after all, we decided to head back into Shoreditch to meet my housemates for TrailerTrash - a very dirty electro night.
Now by this point we were all blind drunk and buying pills while pushing through the completely packed out room which seemed to let everyone in while only being the size of perhaps two classrooms. From here on in it was a drunken free-for-all, I lost any sense of inhibition and was making out with everyone in the club while my friends drifted home one-by-one until I realised, whilst getting a hand-job from a stranger in the dark, that nearly everyone had gone home and I probably should too. I wandered outside, only to be followed out by some spanish guy I'd allegedly been kissing in the club. I met some cool people out the front who invited me to a houseparty but I thought it best to head home and did so, Spanish boy in tow (called Pablo - how classic!), to find all my friends sitting around the lounge room snorting pills and being idiots. What was left to do but join in? We were all completely fucked and the night ended around 7am with post-coital spanish lessons from Pablo and then some nice passing out..
Saturday
I woke up to being hugged by this beautiful spanish boy. The insane sleaziness of the night before had dissipated and morning sun was shining brightly into my room, waking us both up. We chatted for a while until I finally got out of bed and realised I was so hung-over I could barely walk. I decided I'd head out and buy some orange juice, so after saying goodbye to Pablo I went to the corner store - along the way seeing my housemates Casper and Roy who were sitting in the gutter with some random nerds they had met whilst buying wine at 10am in the morning. Afterwards, I shakily sat at home, drinking glass after glass of ornage juice thinking various things - one of which was "I'm definitely about to die." Roy and Casper did there best to try and make me feel better but how much can you really focus when you haven't stopped drinking or taking ketamine for over 12 hours? Needless to say they couldn't help and so I headed back to bed, fearful over the fact that I had to work in just over an hour. I slept for an hour, and upon feeling much better decided to be horrendously late for work. They didn't care and I was able to work the ten hour shift feeling relatively normal, albeit coming down. In my break I cried in the kitchen because they'd given me the wrong sausages to eat, and Lukas, Jose and Alessandro all wonderfully looked after me - hugging me and plying me with cigarettes. I finished up and headed home for much needed sleep..
Sunday
Woke up thankful for a big big sleep. I hung around with my housemates (who were still drinking at that point - you have to admire the English constitution) for the afternoon and then headed back into Soho for yet another day at work. Sunday is Gaysian Kareoke night in one level of my bar, and it is always me that has to work it. So I spent yet another four hours listening to the best of China's love songs being torturously sung, which in reality is kind of fun. Having no money I expected to head straight home after work, obviously forgetting how in London nothing ever goes to plan - and everyone always parties. Lukas and Jose said I had to join them for the big night of DTPM's birthday - a massive gay dance party that is like having a Mardi Gras party or Sleaze Ball in four-level one venue every goddam sunday.. Hello! They said they would pay for everything for me, so I hesitantly obliged and we all ended up getting in on guestlist anyway - the joys of working in London's gay scene.
Now I have hated DTPM every other time I've gone. For me it encapsulates everything I dislike or think is wrong with London's gay scene. Steroid enhanced, body beautiful morons who are drugged out of their brains and only want sex or to have everyone admire how pretty they are. This horribly vapid and superficial scene really gets to me at times, you can't go out expecting to meet new friends and the whole vibe is just a little sullen and dull. I'm not saying the entire scene is like this, but certainly some parties strictly adhere..
This DTPM was different though. I was with great friends, very high after another perfect London pill, the music was spectacular and the atmosphere was just so friendly. We spent the whole night dancing and meeting people and chatting. Jose and I have decided we are the perfect clubbing partners so any night out with him is lots of fun. I met a group of his Brazilian friends, who all invited me back to their place after the party for a chill out. Very high, I obliged, but hours later I wasn't so sure and kind of just wanted my own bed. They wouldn't take no for an answer - "This is just what us Brazilians are like Jeff, now don't be impolite and come!" So despite all hesitations I jumped in a taxi with them and headed to Vauxhall for the chill out.
Monday
And this turned into one of the best parts of the night. Evar, I suppose the leader of the group, was just one of the most hospitable people I've ever met and I will never forget that morning as one of the most wonderful come-downs ever. Lots of food and drink and a plethora of drugs, they would accidently slip into talking Portugese but this was as enjoyable as it was bewildering for me. However at 10am I realised I really needed to get home to say goodbye to my housemate, Casper, who was leaving for China for four months in less than two hours.
Getting the underground whilst very high is a unique experience to say the least. I arrived home and walked in the door to a quite upset Casper which reminded me so much of when I left Sydney to come here. We talked for a bit and said our goodbyes, which was sad but we knew it would only be for a little while.
I headed into bed for a good three hours sleep and then got up for, yes you guessed it, work. I felt relatively normal, thinking a few hours shut-eye had rectified the drug binge that was the previous night. However as soon as I walked into work it was all a bit much and I had no idea what was going on. "You're still twisted aren't you?" asked my boss, laughing, "I love it!" So Jose (who hand't slept at all) and I were unlucky enough to be the only two on that night, which actually turned out to be quite enjoyable. We finished up the night with a cigarrette with Lukas, who lives in a flat above work, and then slept my way into my day off..
Tuesday
Finally a day of work! After a long, long sleep I headed into Soho to meet Jose and Lukas for a come-down picnic we'd planned the night before. We bought wine and loads of delisious food from Tesco and sat in the sun in Soho Square and laughed and drank and chatted until it got dark and simply became too cold. I went and visited Kyle at work briefly and then headed into Kensington to visit Erin. She cooked me a wonderful dinner and we sat around drinking wine and chatting for hours, in fact I imaigne we could have gone all night except I had to catch the last tube home. It was such a great, relaxing day with friends, and was probably one of my favourite London days so far.
Wednesday
Work. 11 hours. Enough said. However I was working on the ground floor with Manu, and we had a fantastic time, laughing the night away. We had a few sneaky drinks behind the bar and decided that, with Kyle and Lukas, we'd all head out to G-A-Y late where we proceeded to get atrociously drunk and spent yet another night twink-hunting - successful for me upon meeting a very cute Argetinian boy (what is it with all the Spanish-speaking men I meet??).
Thursday
I worked during the day and then rushed out of work, late again, to meet Eleni - a friend from Blackbird who I had completely forgotten had moved to London around the samer time as me. We had several bottles of wine in Bar Soho until we were both rather legless, but it was great to catch up with her and the first time we'd had some quality one-on-one time to chat. We decided we would catch up much more often, and we walked up to the tube station and said goodbye.
I got home around midnight to find Roy at home, who I hadn't seen all week. We decided we were desperately in need of a catch-up and so went around the corner to the completely unglamourous and altogether trashily infamous gay bar called the Joiner's Arms. Roy works there so it was free drinks all night and we had a big catch up post-Casper's departure and our week so far. We ended up getting so off our faces and meeting a group of Portugese prositutes who gave us free drugs and were very hilarious. At 5am it was time to head home so we sat around talking for a bit longer until I passed out with the knowledge that in three hours I had to be at work..
And so that was the last week in London for me. A few reoccurring themes, no? Far too much drinking and drug use for one - I am currently on detox to save money, my health and my sanity. But honestly, thats just what London is like. For me it's like a hyper-version of Sydney, and like everyone crazy who loves drinking and drugs and partying every night of the week from around the world has moved to London to be together and make one big party city. Needless to say I'm really enjoying it, but like a wonderful dream I know something about is just not real and that it couldn't and wouldn't last forever. Or, at least, that I couldn't do it forever. There's no point thinking like that just yet though, but as my two-month-aversary of London life arrives tomorrow it's fascinating to reflect on the craziness that has been this past little while. In some ways it has flown by and in other ways it seems like so fucking much has happened over such a long period of time.
I'm lucky that everything has gone as well as it has for me. I love my job and my house, and feel so lucky to have stumbled across both so easily. I already have such good friends and I'm surviving with enough money to pay rent and buy cigarrettes and go out way too much. At the end of the day I'm something I wasn't sure I could be over here; I'm happy.