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Was mixing my drinks last night, with way more herbal teas than standard. Green tea, peppermint, cammomile. crashed out about 2AM after viewing the enjoyable Royal Tennenbaums with my hand on the volume knob all the way through. I could watch Gene Hackman all day. Awoke sweating after vivid dream just after 4. Dream was in the style of sophisticated and modish American TV program about a military unit engaged in jungle warfare, like a more humid version of Generation Kill. Woke up silently screaming – being pursued by guys in headscarves swarming down a hill. Outside it was a muggy, misty East Anglia.Felix’s thing was fun, although I have some regrets. They are:

Should have taken more pictures because it was hard to take a bad one, especially at the party.
Wish Felix DJed the 7″ singles he asked us all to bring (one each was stipulated, although I brought about 6 and Dave brought 3), or maybe even asked me and Dave to DJ, although he probably doesn’t know quite how talented we are in that regard. He certainly didn’t know I had brought my MP3 player with minijack to RCA phono adaptors just in case.
I regret being totally fucking partied out by about 1.30AM, thereby not getting to actually talk that much to people.
I regret telling Mariola’s daughter that she sounded like her Mum. What I meant was that I’d been trying to discern evidence of her maternal origins all evening and suddenly I caught a glimpse in her manner, in a sudden intensity of expression. Even Bobby, who isn’t synonymous with propriety, was more or less aghast at this gauche error.

Treated Belgium and London as one long holiday and I’m a little tired and bored of myself now. I’m sure burning the candle on and off uses more wax or something. Anyway, you lot babysit the apocalypse for a bit. I’m getting an early night.

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