Aug. 7th, 2002

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I'm supposed to be getting back into this. I can't tell you how dispiriting this sort of thing is.

The worst thing is that this will be used as an excuse for every other bit of bloated MS-HTML stupidity.

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A lovely evening on Saturday. After a mad rush to try to get tights (borrowed the silver skirt from Marna again) and makeup, met Ali, who had the cutest tartan mini-dress (there was another person with the same dress, but she was short and skinny and boyish, not a tall, voluptuous, well-muscled Perl-hacking valkyrie) and big New Rocks (for maximum danceability), at Angel tube. Thence to the Purple Turtle Islington (cheap blue things - two for one on Metz) and Slimes. There from 11pm until chucking-out time, when Ali got to see what the people all look like exposed to sunlight ...

Ali came out goth at last this evening, after several hours' exposure to the brainwashing effects of the flashing lights and repetitive noises and strange chemicals in the air. Ha.

Saw Tom Clark, an old friend from Perth, and his girlfriend Tove (who was not only one of the most gorgeous women there, but is an utter utter sweetie). He, like me, has discovered that sxxy deth chyx are in fact the fountain of youth.

The doof floor was curiously sparse (while the goth floor was packed). Coincidentally, one could actually use the toilets as toilets because they weren't full of drug-addled raver bunnies fucking in them. And they were playing DVDs (Harry Potter, Fifth Element, Leon, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon) in the ground floor room and there were no drug-addled raver bunnies fucking in there either.

Got cute pics of Ali before the club. One day I will be able to afford to develop (let alone scan) the ten or so rolls I have waiting.

I have no idea who stole the raver bunnies on Saturday, but I fervently hope they do so again.

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