Ah, the joys of waking up drunk in a dorm full of artists! I woke up to the sounds of Shakespeare in recitation. Not a bad way at all. Some nights, I fall asleep to the sounds of Russian folk tunes being sung in the hall. Gorgeous! Trust me, I love it! After years of falling asleep to the sound of trucks rumbling down Ocean Parkway, or waking up to garbage men on F Street, this is heaven.
My choirs of angels are a chorus of young actors.
Last night was someone's birthday. I'm not sure who's, but it was his. A Russian; an actor; a comrade. Vodka and hookas were passed around. Cigarettes and beer, songs and stories, laughter on the stairs of the dorm. It was fantastic!
It is a little painful this morning, but so much the better -- good things should have a bit of a knife's edge to them. It is the sharpness that keeps them novelties and not routines.
Shakespeare in the morning; waking up drunk. Brunch in a few hours with some fabulous gay men ... Mass even sooner (I need to shower!).
I love Moscow.
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