I am facing a Sunday of physical illness in which all that I can do is drinking microwave warmed tea while inhaling cheap frikandel bought at the closest Nettorama.
This is what I call necessary decadence also known as social debauchery. This might happen in the Lowlands, especially when you went to bed before 1 AM for the first time in months. And on a springlike Saturday night. That's something shameful, I know. I also reckon how missing parties when your body and soul are getting used to them is an unhealthy affair.
Moreover my sober head hurts since my Cameroonian flatmate downstairs is pumping up his music all over the Bhawanie Mansion we share. There is nothing strange in this. On weekends he usually delights us with insisting drums juxtaposed with hardly understandable hip hop lines from 11 in the morning till the 6 on the dawn after. The green carpet of my room is raising up in waves here and there, now and then following the unsustainable rhythm coming from below.
I am pissed off and ready to write about something else.
Moreover my sober head hurts since my Cameroonian flatmate downstairs is pumping up his music all over the Bhawanie Mansion we share. There is nothing strange in this. On weekends he usually delights us with insisting drums juxtaposed with hardly understandable hip hop lines from 11 in the morning till the 6 on the dawn after. The green carpet of my room is raising up in waves here and there, now and then following the unsustainable rhythm coming from below.
I am pissed off and ready to write about something else.
Be prepared for a delightful Ying and Yang short trip into Noord Holland. Bring Your Own Bike.
(update: Alkmaar and Zandvoort postponed)
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