Okay so if day one was a blur then today is like reliving that Prodigy video, Smack My Bitch Up. Without the violence. Or the strip clubs. Okay not much like it, but the flashbacks are flowing like oncoming traffic. If you wake up using find my iPhone and you don’t remember falling asleep but you DO remember the fifteen Irish people leaving your house well. Well. You just need to figure out how to make coffee. The rest is history.
Last night I saw three acts. Jófríður at Kaffibarinn, kimono at Femdome, and Mr. Silla at Gamla Bió. What was the best thing I saw? Wow. Fuck off. I can’t do this rating thing. Three way tie. For different reasons and I wont describe it. My pictures will have to speak for me today. I’m not a competent music critic, and I like the way Steve Martin put it. Talking about music IS like dancing about architecture. Besides I haven’t yet had my first cup of coffee so I can barely form thoughts.
Playing on the stereo is Samaris’s remix of Ströndin. As for the Irish they no doubt are feeling better than I am today. It will be another pool day for me and hopefully a nap. Thankfully a Bostonian gave me a bag of coffee and my friend, who’s house I crashed at last night, has a coffee grinder. All is almost alright with the world.
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