We’re drinking almost every single night. Singing along to “Don’t Stop Believing” at midnight as the jukebox continues to play all of the songs that I can’t bear to listen to (hear: “Kids”). Bikes lined up against the wall tip over and varieties of beer stain the floor. There’s pizza next door, with more toppings than any other shop in the city. We own the night, we succumb to the streets. Don’t even know what to believe in now.
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if you’re in brooklyn i am dj’ing all tonight’s parties, “grapes vs boca chica.” happy birthday to my friends, all are welcome. info.
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