I'm excited. Just found out Seth Troxler and Maya Jane Coles are playing in Paris on my birthday for the second night of the 'We Love Art' Reverie festival... Julia told me about it ages ago but I didn't know who was playing... On my birthday as well! Excellent. I've just bought two tickets. I don't even know if anyone else will want to come yet but I don't care. I'm going to be there. It will make up for not being able to see Damian Lazarus at Cabaret Sauvage- my favourite venue EVER- on the 30th June and then Soul Clap, at the same venue, the next night... that weekend I have to go away with the au pair family.
So that's shit.
I'm stressing out wondering how I'm going to get the time off work at the restaurant. I'll have to book my birthday weekend off work too, as I foresee a lot of messiness... Speaking of which...
Jen went home yesterday, after three nights of... going out? Merriment? Revelry? I don't know what the noun would be but the adjective would be 'excessive'.
Before she arrived I kept thinking: 'We won't be as bad this weekend because Rosie and Rachel aren't coming.' But I forgot that Jen is the Main Instigator. She is the worst one out of all of us. As soon as I picked her up (from a pub she had found just off the Champs Elysees, while she waited for me to finish work), we got into one of those cycles were you egg each other on all night, then convince yourselves you have to 'get back on it' as soon as possible, forcing beer down for breakfast when neither of you knows why, all you know is that you can't back down. You have to keep going. You have to keep being ridiculous. You can't stop, you can't go home, you can't refuse a shot, you can't say no to anything. It's not even peer pressure, it's more like Mutual Escalation, going so high until there's only one way things can go and...
You Come Down.
I feel fucking terrible today, not even physically, I'm just emotionally drained. Since yesterday afternoon my mood has been swinging between 'hysterical crying for no apparent reason' and 'dead inside'. I listened to this song yesterday on repeat for about twenty five minutes, crying and crying until I had to walk to the metro, still crying:
By the time I got to the little girl's birthday party I looked like I'd been sat up all night smoking weed and rubbing cat litter into my eyes. Yep, I had to go to a children's birthday party. After three nights of Jen.
It was a BRILLIANT weekend though, I'll tell you about it tomorrow.
Oh, by the way, We Love Art have said there will be 500 tickets available for Bal Blanc tomorrow, at 3pm. I finish work at 3pm so I won't be able to get tickets. I'm beginning to think I should sack the whole thing off and have a pagan Summer Equinox party, dancing around a fire somewhere grassy, wearing hideous sandals whilst eating magic mushrooms and painting flowers all over myself. Using the blood of a sacrificial lamb.
Sorry, I went too far didn't I? Forget the hideous sandals.