It was M.I.A.’s 2007 “Paper Planes” video—that first caught Donatella Versace’s attention. “Her music and style seemed so fresh and innovative,” recalls the designer.
This is like my anthem.
As the sunlight of a not so particularly warm Sunday checked itself at the door, I walked into the room knowing that it was physiologically and emotionally too early a day to be smothered in that damp waxy scent smoke machines give off. Despite that, I too checked my grievances and common sense at the door.
It was somewhere in the next 30 minutes that Dan told me, “It’s different here, yeah.. But if you’re not posh then it’s not a problem, yknow.”
FLAME was a cocktail of meth, booze, cigarettes, body hair and bad decisions.
But who was I to judge?
In the sea of 30-something men dancing to the thumping of a DJ that had done his fair share of rounds at the men’s cubicles, who was I to say that they were any less than that of a certain conventional social archetype?
Sure, I for awhile felt smug that I did not need to be so wasted and out-of-it in broad daylight to hook-up - that I had a warm body to call home, to call, period. That I was beyond all of this before even knowing it all existed. Fuck that - that I have someone who is fabulous, who understands me, gets along with my friends, smells great, is into art, works with art etc etc
However, it only took a few hours until cupid yanked the arrow out the side of my butt, to be polished no less, which saw the cloud I was floating on dissipate and consequently, my ass crashing into reality i.e. we had a spat.
To put it all into context,
Isn’t it funny - to take meth for the first time but realise that you are already an addict?
Love, my friends, is a drug.
Consider this a prose. Like a work of quasi-fiction. Written by: Noodle.