there is a place called zouk on a day called wednesday

Not another delayed post. busy lah


So basically after work on Wednesday I went for tuition (during which I was already pretty drained, after a day of mundane lab work) and straight after that headed for Zouk. On the way there I saw this girl with a short dress and hot pink stockings smiling to herself as her eyes darted from side to side. After establishing in mind the fact that she was probably mildly psychotic, I also wondered whether she too was headed for the clubs. She got off at City Hall, so I didn't think so.

- and later on the dancefloor, guess who was gyrating on the pedestal? Small world. Anyways we had Long Island ice tea and danced the whole night away to decidedly mediocre music. The usual Mambo fare had been diluted by a selection of trance and techno and rock. It's on nights like these that those who claim to club for the music must've been sorely disappointed.

Which brings us to the topic of - why do we club? After all what is a club but a stupid empty room with a bar and a sound system. I always marvel at people who can say "I go there for the music" with a straight face. We go there cos of the people, to see and be seen, full stop.

Overall one of the better nights I've had at a club, hoping for more to come. Ian and I spent the rest of the night at Sean's house, which was pretty memorable in itself. I'd gone totally unprepared for a sleepover, so it was improvisation galore. Thanks Sean for the hospitality!

The next day was a pain to get through though. Zombified my way through the day, managing to kill every last cell I ventured to grow. Oh well