total convenience and flowers seven days milk:

Nuit Blanche was both better and worse than it was last year. It wasn't a complete surprise, the way it was the first year. But it has become a civic holiday - and of course it has, as it involves staying up all night in the midst of a huge crowd, taking in avant-garde art and spending no money, in the company of beloved friends and attractive strangers - complete with happy greetings the day before: "Bonne Nuit Blanche!"

I kind of want to go to the one in Montreal in March.

Anyway, our night of art began with Vietnamese dinner in a jolly gang, which was served to us rather slowly, which made the more peckish among us all emo, which in turn led to the observation that all Smiths songs should have been about food. You know,

I am the son, and the heir,
of a hunger that is criminally vulgar ...
I am human and I want to be fed
just like anyone else does

or

I would go out tonight, but I haven't got a thing to eat

and

I wanted a snack, and then I had a snack
and heaven knows I'm miserable now

Well anyway it seemed very funny to us at the time.