Gems
I have been lining up little pearls of pleasure to fill my free time since finishing: meals with friends; grand picnics into the night; belly dancers and suckling roast pigs; visits to soft-headed babies and their happy parents; and trips to rambling, country houses to make jam and conversation, all from the finest ingredients. These small joys all feel so good to me; their pearly smoothness pleases as I play them around the palm of my hand. But what I really want right now is a rough, uncut diamond of a night; a night that sparkles dangerously bright, hard edged and laced with vodka and clear laughter. Saturday holds this potential: to celebrate their forthcoming emigration to N. York, K & L are having a 9/11 party. L sneers in the face of propriety, while K is cloud girl in the most hardcore manner imaginable; they were once the epitome of ‘Les enfant terrible’ but have matured to present an appealing idiosyncrasy that I so admire. The night should ROCK. Angel will DJ electrotrash, Plume will perform amp blowing soundscapes, other acts will engage, on stage and off, while I will flit around, glowing in the good company; but there is a flaw at its heart: F, he will also be on the decks. I must be careful not to hit this diamond on its fault line. Why does chemistry sometimes have to remain where it’s unwanted? Last time I saw him I think he was a little afraid. Ha. He once made me briefly scared, but I know I have nothing to fear from him, provided I don’t succumb to chemistry. And I am determined: I can contain hotter firecrackers. A handsome distraction might be handy, but I am such a fussy cow.
Meantime, I have Cat’s private view tonight. I can’t wait to see what curiosities she will have created this time.
I must see L & R soon too. And I must be out of here, now.