Stayed up all night at karaoke again, this time in a dodgy joint in North Point and a few more folks than before, then went to a 24-hour breakfast diner called The Flying Pan in a dodgy part of Wanchai (where there are plenty of nightclubs buffered by incense burners at their doorsteps). Was sleep-drunk as a skunk from 5 a.m. onwards, I think. This is why we are advised never and not to get started on a vice in the first place; this had better not become a habit. The company is a factor, of course, either paving the way for you to make excuses and scram, or tying you to the spot with those pesky friendship bands of yore.
The best thing that came out of this latest escapade was arriving home to see the sunrise, my first in many moons, and hearing birds actually singing sweetly for the goodness of a crisp, clear morning. My camera makes this look like sunset (maybe it’s just too used to taking sunsets, huh), but it was much pastel-brighter than it looks here:
All right, maybe I was trying to drown my sorrows at missing a Jay Chou concert (and on his birthday, if that means anything) in Singapore for the very first time (missing the homeground advantage?). (MY, you didn’t help with the SMSes of glee, but apparently, according to everyone I complained to, that’s what friends are for — what the heck?!) Well, maybe I couldn’t have got tickets even if I had been there. And tonight is the second concert, bleargh. Feel bad for not being able to go with my brother again, too. Nothing like a routine spoilt to make you aware of the passage of time. Or the myriad roles of the nearest and dearest in your life. All pitiful blather, I know. I shall stop now.