Life is perfect . . . . at 4.45 am on Saturday morning

It is 4.35 am on Saturday morning (Friday night) and I do love being drunk. I really do. It makes me forget about my troubles or at least see them in a different and clearer light. I wish I could be this prescient when the day dawns. In Singapore, I can't really afford to be drunk because I drive. This means that anything more than 2 beers and you run the risk of having your driving license revoked if you get stopped at those pesky checkpoints outside St James. But in New York, especially after a party, you can just stagger home in the winter cold while listening to the Killers' new album on your Apple Ipod. Nobody cares because everyone on the street at 4.30 am is either homeless or drunk. A whole new experience in itself as you listen to the song "Human" as you feel the winter cold bites into your skin. " . .. give my regard to soul and romance, they always did the best they could . . . "I will miss all this when I come back to hot and humid Singapore.

Such a buzz from the Cuban party. The Latinos really know how to wind down and party/
The mohijitos are fresh and superb. People from work who are usually stiff as corpses came alive at the party. Hugs and kisses and everything forgotten. Until Tuesday of course.

And for the brief moment when I typed this, life is indeed perfect at 4.45 am on a Saturday morning on 6 December.