We had a Real Swell Time last night, celebrating the 25th anniversary of my being Alive. Wei, Terry, Kelli, Wan Lu, Neel, and I went to an Indian restaurant not far from Brick Lane. It was Punjabi food, which really only had one major repercussion for us: it was delicious. My god, it was delicious... (maybe it's that I'm hungry right now, but I'm getting lost in the memory of spicy okra, chana, and (oh help me) kulfi popsicles). Anyhow, after dinner we headed to bar in an alley just off Brick Lane. The Big Chill, it's called, and I liked it. The music was really awesome, though some of it might have been classified in a broader dance genre (and those who know me know how irate dance music makes me). Most of the music, though, had a central tendency toward gypsy/flamenco/ska. We met some interesting people (the Norse God Sven who was insistent that women cook for him), drank a fair amount, and then, headed home in the freezing rain. Before getting home, though, we stopped off for what has become a late night institution - falafel and chips (and by chips, I, of course, mean fries). I stood outside eating my chips while a street musician serenaded me to old Bob Marley tunes. I gave him all the change I had, which amounted to approximately 16p.
Completely frozen and exhausted, we headed home, where I was certain I would never be warm again. Several layers of pyjamas and some warm blankies will take care of that, though. It was a swell night and I wouldn't mind turning 25 more often.
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