Xmas is coming, Xmas is coming! . . . that's what it felt like the weekend of the Pines 2001 party, when my housemates and i began putting on the Russian sailor shirts that D had brought back from Moscow for the occasion . . kind of like what the Pet Shop Boys would call a red letter day . . . can u tell that i'm relatively new to the circuit party experience? . . . but ever since last year, i had been counting the days until August 11 when i hoped to recapture the excitement of dancing all night on the beach among a tribe of half naked men who come together from all over the world . . . my first dose of ecstacy, the headless horseman variety, undoubtedly contributed to my aura of well being and i'd been warned not to expect the same level of intensity this time around but hey, even if it was only half as much fun, i'd still have a great time . . . not for a second did i believe V, the housemate who can get under my skin most easily, that i looked grim and determinedwhen the sun rose . . . yet it WAS only half as much fun, despite another tab of E--this time imprinted with the Euro sign--and a brief downpour that added to the sweaty sensuality of hands gripping bare chests from behind and tops beating the rhythm of the music into bottoms . . . the bacchanal ignited a sexual frenzy that still hasn't subsided . . . only a cold sore on my upper lip prevents me from unwrapping more presents under the pine trees in the meatrack.