best nights out
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mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
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best nights out
anyone want to discuss thier best night out ever?
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mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
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- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2000 8:01 am
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best nights out
okay if no one is going to share I'll give it a shot. off the top of my head, best day/night---takes place in Casis, S. France--
wake up, go running, then a swim in the ocean, come home to do a few hours writing and have a coffee, picnic lunch with g-friend, pick up game of footie on the beach, go have a few pints of Guinness, go to a small club, come home, DJ for G-friend, take some mild pure MDMA, listen to Primal Scream's Screamadelica. also after every comma there is sex.
something like that would be a perfect day/night. I could do something to help others but that could be my 2nd best day, I'm a little selfish when it comes to pleasure. you gotta get your fun when you can.
wake up, go running, then a swim in the ocean, come home to do a few hours writing and have a coffee, picnic lunch with g-friend, pick up game of footie on the beach, go have a few pints of Guinness, go to a small club, come home, DJ for G-friend, take some mild pure MDMA, listen to Primal Scream's Screamadelica. also after every comma there is sex.
something like that would be a perfect day/night. I could do something to help others but that could be my 2nd best day, I'm a little selfish when it comes to pleasure. you gotta get your fun when you can.
best nights out
I can't remember my best night out, but I'm told it was pretty cool.
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mmenabi
- Old Skool Pax
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best nights out
perfect day, perfect day, perfect day. drink sangria in the park, when it gets dark we go home. you're going to reap what you sow.
hey mccutcheon remember that day three years ago exactly now that i think of it (the day after thanksgiving) when we sat in my roommate-at-the-time's room while she was in sacramento and just played song after song after song, and we tried to get the lyrics down for the pulsar's wisconsin, and then you played some other song about hanson about wisconsin, and you sipped whiskey from the bottle (or was it irish cream) while i smoked bowls? that was a pretty good day.
anyways, what would my perfect day be? it would probably contain many different elements of things that had already happened to me, as well as ridiculous fantasy. wake up in my canal house in amsterdam around noon, open the shutters and look over the herengracht, smoke a light spliff over a bottle of pear looza while i discuss plans of the day with chris and pet cojo on the head and scratch him around the ears and listen to him purr and meow. put on a long skirt and tank top (http://www.fantabulounge.org), braid my hair, leave the house, unfold my orange dutch bike and have a parisian breakfast at foodism before picking up some provisions at the grey area (http://www.greyarea.nl/). relax there for a bit, roll a few joints, roll a few spliffs, smoke a cigarette. back home to meet up with friends of mine (any friends of mine) who are stopping in amsterdam while backpacking and staying in my guest rooms. out again, pick up a falafel on our way to the museum district. buy a fancy pair of shoes (slip-ons, of course) on p.c. hooftstraat on our way to a private tour of the van gogh museum. ride through vondelpark back to my house, stopping for an icecream in the leidseplein and to direct some mulleted tourists looking for planet hollywood in the wrong direction, and stop at conscious dreams (http://www.consciousdreams.nl) to pick up some philosopher's stones. drop off my fancy shoes at home, mess about with cojo for awhile before heading out to the spa to get a facial and my hair done. back home to put on a nicer long skirt and tank top and my new shoes, round up my friends and walk over to the supperclub (http://www.supperclub.nl) for our 8 oclock dinner reservations where i kick off my fancy new shoes, climb onto the bed, and we subject ourselves to hours of sipping wine and smoking spliffs and eating a delicious five course meal, drinking cocktails in the lounge, ten minute swedish massages, tarot readings, stimulating and intellectual conversation (disregarding ed tuttle and having informed and intelligent things to say about art, religion, and politics). this time i will use the bathroom marked hetero and there will be no middle aged couple with their son and his girlfriend fighting and spilling wine and stressing out next to our party. when dinner is over around one a.m. its around the corner to absinthe where they will indeed serve real absinthe and not what i suspect to really be nyquil. back to my canal house to continue stimulating conversation and beautiful music late into the night before heading to bed to perform bedroom things like making love and a wonderful deep sleep on a real bed with a down comforter. get our rest as the next day i pack up cojo and a bag of essentials and board a private jet to ibiza, taking a ten minute boatride from there to my private island tago mago (http://www.vladi-private-islands.de/sal ... _tago.html), where i am hosting a private radiohead show, in tent, where i will eat my philosopher's stones and this time they add subterranean homesick alien and let down to their set list (http://www.followmearound.com/tour2000/160900.html) and then i settle down with my paints and sunscreen and laze about on my island indefinitely until the next show in my amsterdam gallery comes about and my presence is needed.
so i guess that is longer than one day. but hell, if i'm going to be going that far with my fantasies, then i might as well go whole hog. i could go on forever.
now, who wants to laze about on tago mago with me? cheers~nabi
hey mccutcheon remember that day three years ago exactly now that i think of it (the day after thanksgiving) when we sat in my roommate-at-the-time's room while she was in sacramento and just played song after song after song, and we tried to get the lyrics down for the pulsar's wisconsin, and then you played some other song about hanson about wisconsin, and you sipped whiskey from the bottle (or was it irish cream) while i smoked bowls? that was a pretty good day.
anyways, what would my perfect day be? it would probably contain many different elements of things that had already happened to me, as well as ridiculous fantasy. wake up in my canal house in amsterdam around noon, open the shutters and look over the herengracht, smoke a light spliff over a bottle of pear looza while i discuss plans of the day with chris and pet cojo on the head and scratch him around the ears and listen to him purr and meow. put on a long skirt and tank top (http://www.fantabulounge.org), braid my hair, leave the house, unfold my orange dutch bike and have a parisian breakfast at foodism before picking up some provisions at the grey area (http://www.greyarea.nl/). relax there for a bit, roll a few joints, roll a few spliffs, smoke a cigarette. back home to meet up with friends of mine (any friends of mine) who are stopping in amsterdam while backpacking and staying in my guest rooms. out again, pick up a falafel on our way to the museum district. buy a fancy pair of shoes (slip-ons, of course) on p.c. hooftstraat on our way to a private tour of the van gogh museum. ride through vondelpark back to my house, stopping for an icecream in the leidseplein and to direct some mulleted tourists looking for planet hollywood in the wrong direction, and stop at conscious dreams (http://www.consciousdreams.nl) to pick up some philosopher's stones. drop off my fancy shoes at home, mess about with cojo for awhile before heading out to the spa to get a facial and my hair done. back home to put on a nicer long skirt and tank top and my new shoes, round up my friends and walk over to the supperclub (http://www.supperclub.nl) for our 8 oclock dinner reservations where i kick off my fancy new shoes, climb onto the bed, and we subject ourselves to hours of sipping wine and smoking spliffs and eating a delicious five course meal, drinking cocktails in the lounge, ten minute swedish massages, tarot readings, stimulating and intellectual conversation (disregarding ed tuttle and having informed and intelligent things to say about art, religion, and politics). this time i will use the bathroom marked hetero and there will be no middle aged couple with their son and his girlfriend fighting and spilling wine and stressing out next to our party. when dinner is over around one a.m. its around the corner to absinthe where they will indeed serve real absinthe and not what i suspect to really be nyquil. back to my canal house to continue stimulating conversation and beautiful music late into the night before heading to bed to perform bedroom things like making love and a wonderful deep sleep on a real bed with a down comforter. get our rest as the next day i pack up cojo and a bag of essentials and board a private jet to ibiza, taking a ten minute boatride from there to my private island tago mago (http://www.vladi-private-islands.de/sal ... _tago.html), where i am hosting a private radiohead show, in tent, where i will eat my philosopher's stones and this time they add subterranean homesick alien and let down to their set list (http://www.followmearound.com/tour2000/160900.html) and then i settle down with my paints and sunscreen and laze about on my island indefinitely until the next show in my amsterdam gallery comes about and my presence is needed.
so i guess that is longer than one day. but hell, if i'm going to be going that far with my fantasies, then i might as well go whole hog. i could go on forever.
now, who wants to laze about on tago mago with me? cheers~nabi