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Well, my idiot friend is out of his coma.

To fill all in, one of my more enthusiastic companions from back home managed to almost pickle his brain in vicious chemicals after heading back to London to begin his second drug-fuelled stint at uni. The poor buggerapos;s been in a coma for almost a month, but he came out some time this week and was discharged this morning. Looking shockingly skinny and pale. No brain damage. I dearly hope heapos;s learned something.

I also missed my Stats lecture because Steve wanted a sandwich.

Christ. Anyways, the main reason that precipitated my return to this particular neck of the intarwebs was alcohol. The second was terrible music. I stood/listened/vomited my way through four hours of abysmal music last night, trying to be nice. Iapos;m never nice. The resulting mental conflict was only resolved through liberal application of scotch and demanding a piggy back from Christian. I came home and prostrated myself before the good people of LJ, trying to make sense of my paradoxical, upside down and generally impressively messy life.

Iapos;m trying to re-live Saturday night, which was such good fun it makes me tingle just thinking about it. Essentially I went to watch Late of the Pier, Digitalism and the Midnight Juggernauts in some godawfully brilliant hole of a venue with about 1000 students, most of whom had taken so many drugs their eyes were pointing in different directions. I avoided the more sinister substances in light of the amazing Coma Moron, but still had the best night Iapos;ve had in about 4 months. Which wasnapos;t hard, to be honest. More stories will follow.

Now Iapos;m going to see a girl about a limo, more spiel to come.

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