I liked the party that was thrown here last night by me (this rather incongruous photo was taken a few nights later after we were dumped with snow and the moon to the north).
My housemate Doris who is European and thus cultured in ways that are far-more-interesting than run-of-the-mill Americans, made swedish glugg, mulled wine to a certain extent. Anyways it was ripping and patrons were thankful for the killer partying that resulted partially from that. We also played killer tunes that were consistently brilliant.
The party was commemorated by a new pair of shoes worn by me. Aside from partying and wearing funky new shoes, I am learning that it is important to write about something that means something, so I am working on writing something that means something, infusing ordinary scenes with my usual flair (by flair I mean voice and strong sentences, two things I care about the most). Fiction is an art-form that needs to be taught, or learned, I reckon and since I didn't learn it, I am being taught it. The brilliant stuff is magic and there are ways to render this magic and that is what I'm being taught. I am off to Coco's now - a local diner. I hope it is not too loud. I have been craving an omelet since gawd knows when.