People se me as a person who's very uptight and controlled at daytime, but who always loses it when partying. You could say that, I guess, but the truth is I never lose control. When I lose it, it's according to plan. The plan is always there, erhm, kind of. When I pour a drink over your head or sleep with your girlfriend, it's beacuse you deserve it, one way or another.
Totally epic wekeend. Woke up this morning on the toilet floor with my face against the cold toilet seat. At the moment I was very happy that I'd managed to throw up in the toilet this time. Took a shower, kissed Claudia on the cheek on the way out and then went to school. Love my life.
So here I am swaying, already. Too early too be drunk really. Feeling kinda genereous towards myself though... Me and mommy had a little mother/daughter/cocktail- moment. Vodka tonic and Gin fizz. Just mummy and me. Too bad she suddenly felt like being honest.
– Your father doesn't love me... – Mummy, this is an entirely philosophical question. What is love, really? – But he doesn't love me, he never has. – The thing is...well, can he love anyone? – (...) – Do you want another drink, hun? I'll go get you one.
"(...) an 'incredulity towards meta-narratives'. These meta-narratives - sometimes 'grand narratives' - are grand, large-scale theories and philosophies of the world, such as the progress of history, the knowability of everything by science, and the possibility of absolute freedom. Lyotard argues that we have ceased to believe that narratives of this kind are adequate to represent and contain us all. We have become alert to difference, diversity, the incompatibility of our aspirations, beliefs and desires (...)"
Oh my, I should be in school now, shouldn't I? But here I am, on the coach, obsessing over Buster Keaton and his iconic stoneface. Claudia(mexican housemaid, substitute for mother) is making scrambled eggs for me. The only kind of breakfast I've had since I was 9. Scrambled eggs and herb tea. Blood on the sheets. Such a fabulous morning.