A Long Day of a Student - part 2

On the left- a post party destruction. A regular picture. For some, even an everyday condition of the partment.
On the right- a regular evening passtime.

And then, following your hidden hopes, someone chats to you/calls you. Ah how nice, a perfect excuse, after all social connections are the most important thing in life, what would one do without friends, sow e have to keep in touch, update them on our marvellous adventures. Continuing the homework, you become bored and so tired with doing the same thing for the past 3HOURS (of course the time of facebooking/ talking on the phone is included as the proper study time), well it is almost done, so you go out to catch some fresh air, maybe a beer too... surprisingly (also as a fulfilment of some subconscious hope) you meet one of your friends, and they, what a coincidence, are going out today. You accept their kind invitation to join them, leaving all the tiredness in the homework sheet - for later. You have another coffee to cheat your organism about the time of the day and start getting mentally prepared to the upcoming alcohol consumption. Reminding yourself about your last night out, you device a strategy, and border yourself with limits, specifying the level of drunkenness you want/plan to achieve this night.
The moment you start drinking the plan fades away when you combine it with smoking, you see the life so clearly that you stop caring about anything except for fun. All he other options you planned for yourself as an evening entertainment and kept In the back of your mind: starting a project which is due in 2 weeks, reading The Book maybe, writing a long email to your granny have already faded away, sunk in the vodka-orange juice mix or, better (?) arak eshkoli’ot killer drink. Instead of the planned early leaving you get into the taxi at 11pm feeling the city is yours. Shame to discover there is nothing going on, or that your favourite place is closed/kosher for Pesah/there is shira tziburit or a party only for bald men with moustache. You still enjoy your careless night, observing as if through the mist all the ‘normal people’ who are about to go home, tourist with a lost look in their eyes and the same ridiculous yellow baseball caps, religious people on their way back from the synagogue, couples eating ice cream. You yourself belong to the other world, the jungle and absurd of the night life: arsim jumping on the benches with a pig-like laughter, random gypsies asking for tzedaka, rabbi nachman hip-hop dancers... all with the background of the harp-music. Later on, towards the night the city will be taken over by the second world. But in this unique moment they coexist, as if two layers, one (the regular one) unaware of the other (the jungle one). Small shops providing tourist and walkers with water and small snacks or the local inhabitants with the basic food products turn into alcohol watering holes, supplying you with all the necessary ingredients of party mood, including fancy plastic cups. Night people have their own ways... the last stop being some ha-shamen or some other food provider with fat saturated air, and people gleaming with sweat of the frying.
You still feel it on your stomach the next morning when ‘your alarm clock’s sound drills into your brain...’
A perfect cycle.