Parties can cultivate our connections to others, bring meaning to one another’s lives, and reveal the world with them. They can also confirm one another’s existences, serving as a reminder to friends that they matter, and that one matters to one’s friends. Moreover, the warmth and laughter that authentic partying sparks can help people cope with the chaos of life. De Beauvoir wrote of her wartime parties in occupied Paris: they saved up food stamps and then binged on food, fun and alcohol. They danced, sang, played music and improvised. The artist Dora Maar mimed bullfights, Sartre mimed orchestra-conducting in a cupboard, and Albert Camus banged on saucepan lids as if in a marching band
Being and drunkeness: how to party like an existentialist
For those of us now attempting our parties and meet-ups via Zoom. The existentialists at least thought it worth persisting with.
The 2019 edition started at the weekend. My current drink of choice:
Since resuming eating pears I’ve become a bit fed up with buying a pear and it not being ripe enough to eat thereby marring my whole pear experience. If I can buy already ‘Perfectly Ripe Plums’ why can’t I buy the equivalent in pears? Why do I have to suffer this pear Russian roulette every time I buy a piece of that fruit?
When’s the last time you had a pear? I mean a proper pear, not one sliced, in a pudding, canned etc. Think about it, it was ages ago, wasn’t it? No? Well, it has been for me. Years and years and years, over 10 years, 15 maybe? I’ve just bought one. Going to give it a go.
If you’re in Soho and wanting Indian food this is the place. On Bateman Street. Just round the corner from the Soho Theatre.
(The season being, as defined by myself that is, from the beginning of November to ending sometime in January. I did once start the season the beginning of October, but by December had realised my folly.)