Written While Half-Drunk

Just finished what may possibly be the saddest book in the post-modern world.

I just had my first English clubbing experience. My first clubbing experience, period, in Liverpool, two nights ago. It was full of old people - the women in amazing shape, the men bald and fat. Full of young people, too; skin spray-on tanned orange in leather shoes and hot pink tutus. It was ten blocks of people, all faceless, or with faces that all seemed the same either because I was drunk or because they all dressed the same way, thinking they stood out in leggings (everyone wore leggings) or fake eyelashes (girl, please).

Still, it was fun to watch Kate talk to strangers dressed as Alice Cooper only to complain about being hit on by strangers dressed as Alice Cooper. She wanted to seem legitimate, and since she's rocking the mow-hawk she looks British enough. She was wearing the leggings (remember what I said about those things?) and kept up a pretty consistent British accent the entire night. She wanted to practice it - pretend she was British, which was a pretty good accent that fooled a lot of people, but Kate's got a fuck-you-imma-just-be-me attitude that doesn't really gel well with pretending to be something you're not.

Like, say, a punk Brit.

But then I realized that we were all pretending, acting, participating in this giant festival where the script was written by the people you saw around you.

It was a little overwhelming, and we all woke up the next morning two and a half hours later than planned, one of us hungover, two of us still drunk 'cause we didn't hit our stride until we found the tequila bar that had shots for a pound.

Salt, tequila, lime.

You can probably guess which category I fell, by accident, into.

For a while we joked that wherever we went we brought the sunshine, but the weather finally caught up with us and I'm writing this in the rain. It's always hot, so the rain's honestly welcome.

We're going to Bath (Bath!) next week and then Devon, which is exciting for me for reasons I only divulge in the unedited version of this blog (surry).

Then Kate and I go to Stonehenge! Which I'm really looking forward to, because my neighborhood in R-Town is called Stonehenge and I do want to see the rocks that rocked the world.

Ha.

They were probably dropped by Aliens,

P. I. Staker