LASTNIGHTSPARTY EP02: BOYFRIEND IN A COMA

"I am 3,832 miles away from home, surrounded by complete strangers and wishing that I was one of these special human beings at the peak of their powers defying the law of gravity. They remind me of the elevated girls back home. The girls I usually end up behind when I go to watch my favorite DJs spin. Nothing like seeing glimpses of the tiny little head of a half human pushing buttons and sliding sliders, poking behind a cute girl raised up into the sky. Life is such a comedy sometimes. Tonight it’s just posing as a tragedy. Yes, I’m still depressed. I’m still traveling. And I’m still alone. Most people when they travel stay in a cosy hotel, a shitty hostel or whatever they can find on airbnb.com. But tonight I’m in Barcelona, in the middle of nowhere, staying with a circus that rents out rooms to people looking for adventure. Ah, Francesca. She’s short, she’s curvy, and she’s Spanish. But we could never be a couple because it would be too “spaghetti et boulettes”. Yet she’d be great for a European adventure. And her best friend Pauline. She’s French and she sees poetry in everything. I like girls that love to read. And Irish Molly. And the two Russians. I always forget their names. Anyways, tonight Francesca is taking all the girls to Marsella Bar to teach them about a Barcelonian rite of passage: How To Drink Absinthe. Obviously there was no way I was gonna break up this little “girls night out” thing that was underway, so I did the only thing that I could do under the circumstances… Boys night out. I know Brodinski back from my music days. Back when his name was still Louis. He comes from a background of house and hip hop. He loves strippers. I know Gesaffelstein back when his name was still Mike. He comes from a techno and industrial background. He loves all that dark shit that I’ve re-discovered lately in my deep depression. Together these guys are kings. The irony of going to a Bromance party is that there’s a higher ratio of girls here than guys. And not the lame, posey, pouty girls that complain about their heels all night, but fun girls that like to dance… You can find your wife here. In the middle of all this beautiful, ominous, dark, music… suddenly… I didn’t feel so good. So I went outside. Fuck. I should have never mixed Klonopin with alcohol. God, can you hear me? Just give me a sign that the world is good and I swear I’ll never do it again. A record started playing and then she asked me what I had been dreaming about. Her name is Tirsa. She’s a famous designer in Barcelona and an expert in the art of seduction. She’s also a renowned wiccan. But for some reason I wasn’t afraid. I wanted her darkness. Even though I had just puked in her bathroom, she didn’t seem repulsed by me. She wanted to know what I thought about her new collection. She wanted to know what I thought about her body. I know that hitting bottom isn’t supposed to be a weekend retreat. But tonight at least, I know that God is good."

Edited by Bronques