Another night of drinking and talking til 5 am. God, life is fun.

Masaru, the Japanese chef in my class last term, hosted a party on the roof of his building, providing delicate finger sandwiches and lots of beer for us boozehounds. I hadn't really hung out with Masaru during the term, but I've always been intrigued by his career (French fusion food is his speciality) and his hobbies (scuba diving and photography). It was great to get a chance to talk with him. I think we said we were going to go clothes shopping on Sunday. But I'm not sure, because I was on the liquid road to trashedness.

At one point, I talked with Jose, a political science grad student who came to the U.S. from Cuba when he was 16. He complained that the party wasn't very lively, comparing it to parties with his friends, who apparently dance and are just a more active bunch. Well, yeah, it was just your average party with Russians, Japanese, Koreans, Kiwis, Canadians and Americans sitting around and drinking and talking, but -- wait, that actually sounds kinda interesting! Whatever, blase Jose.

Now that I think about it, Jose was a rather negative fellow (he also started complaining about Princeton when I asked him about it), but I pulled a Mia and said, "Wait. Isn't there something you LIKE about school?" He grudgingly allowed that the academics were pretty good. I also managed to wring out of him that he was enjoying Korea, whereupon the Canuck said, "You should be a therapist or something -- that's the most positive statement I've ever heard from this guy." Snort. Dude, if you can't look around and think, "Look at these people, here on this rooftop, in this city, at this moment -- what kind of crazy-ass confluences conspired to bring all of us here, together, tonight?" then I'm not sure I want to know you.

Around 3 or so, everyone had left or was sleeping, and there was just me, lip-pierced Japanese girl, Lewis, and Irina, one of the glamorous Russian twins from school. Irina talked for what seemed a long time about a speech contest she'd entered as part of school, and then about living in Vladivostok (I actually met someone from Vladivostok! trippy), and then it started to rain, and the party was officially over.

Lewis and I walked Irina home, then headed back to his house, where I slept over once again (and once again, chastely, for your enquiring, prurient minds). I actually slept pretty soundly from 5 am to 7 am, and then on and off til 10:30 am, which is when I bade farewell to Lewis (he's leaving tomorrow for the summer) and walked to the subway in torrential rain.

On the way home, I thought again how much Lewis and Mia have helped me crawl out of the Pit of Despair of the past several months, and how much I enjoyed talking with the beautiful array of people last night. A few weeks ago, I didn't feel like talking to anyone. I wasn't interested, I didn't care, and I just wanted to sleep, so I didn't have to be awake. This week alone, I've stayed up until dawn three times, and I didn't want to sleep when dawn arrived, either.

The rainy season has begun, and if I were the kind of person to make hokey cliched metaphors (oh wait, that's exactly the kind of person I am!), I'd say that the rains are starting to wash away the guilt and the sadness and the anxiety that marked the last months of my relationship with John. I think I might be starting to get happier.

Either that or I'm turning into an alcoholic.

[Confidential to the one who knows better, because EVERYONE KNOWS BETTER: You already know that you were an irresponsible, idiotic, unthinking and selfish DIPSHIT, so I'll just say thank god no one was hurt. Please, dude. Don't get dead. Don't get other people dead. You have way too much to do in this life to get sidetracked by death or murder. Love, hk]