Ha ha ha, ich lach mich schlapp! I couldn’t stop laughing at the absurdity of the course of last night. First I went to Jean’s farewell party, he is going to hitchhike to India. Then Raluca, a friend that I was helping out as a lay actor in her short film the last two weekends, took me to a private party of Wesley Snipes, who happens to shoot a movie in Romania at the moment. The huge rented villa was a wonderful classic building fitted out with finest funiture and a lot of antique kitsch. Some stuff was pushed aside to make room for various folded up body building equipment. A sweet smell of vanilla insense was in the air. The rest of the scene was like taken out of some American hiphop music video. A lot of wanna-be mixed with a little sincerity. At least all of the equipment, drinks and music was top shelf. There was a big table filled with classy wines, spirits, juices and a lot of Red Bull cans. The man himself – I was mixing up the huge bodyguard at the entrace with him in the beginning – was DJing most of the night. He has quite some skill and really seemed to enjoy himself. Still he was very distant to what was happening around him, to the people that all knew him, but that he didn’t know and maybe not wanted to know. Someone else took over the turntables and after a while Elvis had left the building. We stayed until around 5 and then took a taxi home. Ha, first we were celebrating someone that went off to live in poverty and a little later we found ourselves amongst this celebration of luxury and fame. (Thanks for pointing that out, Raluca)