1:09am
Is it wrong that I just left a party where Franz Ferdinand was about to deejay?
On my way out I had to literaly squeeze by Nicolas McCarthy to get to the door. I wonder what I'm missing right now. I wonder if I would have stayed had I been drinking. At least I got to touch Nic's shiney couture, although my dreams of making out with the bass player dissipated as I walked down Delancey Street on my way home. But I get to go to sleep before 2am! Which is all I actually care about right now.
update: i wrote this account of the after party, read it
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