Untitled and Unknown

Untitled and Unknown

A party the other night, and the drink of the order was hibiscus juice protracted from Pondicherry, laced with vodka. The Penguin made a face, but the young gay interior designer/decorator was in no mood to take criticism about his beloved drink and made a face back, while I was threatening Emily that I'd bone him in the kitchen, Flight Attendant was mesmerized by the number of people who wanted to get into his pants online, and Gupshup surveyed all, in the serene knowledge that in a day or two he would be jet-setting it to the Maldives, away from all the chaos.

What troubled lives we do lead!

It always feels very nice when you go to a new website and make a new profile, and see how quickly the other carnivores online rush towards you in the heat of 'new meat'. One gets flattered by all the attention, and it gets heady. You tend to spend more and more time in front of the screen then, a modern-day Mirror, Mirror... not without its own pitfalls.

I have no idea why this post took the line it has taken. I must be troubled. This was supposed to be a fun post about the party the other night, the beautiful people, and the laughs and the jokes. It was supposed to be a post about watching Sex and the City episodes on the computer non-stop, and wondering which of them, or which combination of all of them, I would slot myself as. It was supposed to be a fun post.

And instead, it's turned out to be this. I must not be in a writing mood. Or if I am, I must not be in a mood for writing fluff. Serious yet divine, and I wonder why on earth I use these mouldy words. No, I'm not troubled. Not really. Not anything. Blank.

Close the closet doors hurriedly, lest anyone walk in.