Everyone else is settling into their week and I'm on my second Aperol, already dressed for a night that doesn't start for hours. You'd come sit with me, wouldn't you?
Everyone else is settling into their week and I'm on my second Aperol, already dressed for a night that doesn't start for hours. You'd come sit with me, wouldn't you?
Electric Monday lived up to its name and I haven't made it past my hallway yet — too wired to crawl to bed, too far gone to pull anything back on. Going to come carry me the rest of the way?
Washed off the day party but the buzz won't come off with it — midnight's still an hour away and I can't seem to reach the towel. Want to come hand it to me?
Made it home from Berghain and can't decide if I'm hungry or just too wired — so I'm sitting on my kitchen counter doing nothing about either. You'd bring me breakfast, wouldn't you?
The open-air by the Spree got under my skin so I found a spot down by the water where the bass still finds me but the crowd can't — and then my hands started wandering. You'd have stayed to watch, wouldn't you?
Berghain opens in twenty minutes and I haven't gotten past the mirror yet — still too busy liking what I see to put clothes on. Tell me I'm not the only one who does this?
This weekend's techno calendar just went up and I haven't moved from this floor since. Want to help me survive until tomorrow night?
Came home with the bass still in my chest and the only thing that made sense was the cello — turning that four-on-the-floor energy into something I can hold between my legs. Almost working. Want to listen?
Setlist for tonight just dropped and my living room became a dance floor about ten minutes ago. Everything I was wearing is on the couch now — not putting any of it back on until I have to leave. Want to come early?
The bath was supposed to settle me down after the Tuesday rave. It didn't — and I stopped wanting it to about two minutes ago. Going to watch?