Mambo night... landed with a sickening thud.

it was so bloody dense if i were a terrorist i'd've sure as hell targeted zouk la! set off a small firecracker with a 1m blast radius and tomorrow's headlines- '100 killed, 16 injured'. oh dear. what if every subsequent night at zouk is like this. i will cry. but that aside, just being there. you know... soaking in the atmosphere. Bass, people, cigarettes, drinks, clothes, pretty faces. So fresh, baby, so clean.

okay... help me here. So is beer the nectar, or piss, of Gods? I'm thinking piss. But not in a bad way.

I was drinking a lychee martini and david looked at me and said- "Fuck lennard... only girls and gays drink that! so which one are you??"

"er. I could be either?"

today i've a lot to do... lessee... fix my bike, return some books, buy paint for my room (red and black, nice, yes?), buy CD racks for the wall, bulbs for the lights in my room*, hooks for some paintings. yikes. i hope i've enought 1) time 2) energy.

*most of the bulbs in my room have blown. so not at night i survive by the illumination of one dinky little bulb in the far side of my room. previously, it bathed in the glory of 5.