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Random house party, West Norwood

From:     Dave Death
Category: Art
Date:     18 December 2006
Time:     05:05 AM

Review:

A friend of my housemate's friend's friend was having a party.  How could I miss it?  

I wish I had stayed at home.  My hope had been the randomness of it made it likely I would be 
stepping into an impossibly cool and exciting world; that because I was taking a little risk in going 
there, fate would reward me with an impossibly good  party.  But no: it was rubbish.  My housemate, 
his friend and I arrived at 1am.  I left a long time later at 2.30am.  There was an unashamedly fat girl in 
an outsize party dress stomping around - a hippopotamus attacked by hornets - and lots of 
interchangeable bald-headed men.  A middle-aged woman with tattoos.  A self-loathing snob, I spoke 
to nobody.  I will not waste my easy wit and conversation here; nobody here is of interest to me.  
These are not people. 

Tortilla crisps in a bowl, cheddar and a little bread.  Mulled wine, cheap hock, cola.  I didn't have a 
drink - why would I?  I don't belong here.  I Wanna be Adored played too quietly through a cheap hi-fi, 
cutting out when someone tripped on a cable.  Retro music, much of it junk, selected through an iPod 
by the one pretty girl there, a Zadie Smith lookalike.  I knew every song played, knew and disliked or, 
if I liked, found myself transported into melancholy, remembering the associations of hearing the 
music in happier times.  I pined for absent friends and unrequited loves.  Ever fallen in love with 
someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with?  Yes, I thought, as I sat alone on the sofa smoking 
another cigarette wondering how I would get home.  I wish I was with her; I miss her; I love her.  Get 
me away from here I'm dying.


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