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Thursday May 17, 2001, 02:28

In a sort of full-disclosure, self-aware sort of a way, let it be known that the writing of this was prompted not so much by my wanting to write it (because I am tired and woke up after not so much sleep last night that was caused in no small part to the fact that I decided that it would be a good idea to have a glass of Coke at midnight thus keeping me up until 5am and causing me to get all of five hours of sleep last night as I absolutely hate getting up late [ late as defined as "after eleven" or, in extreme cases, after noon ]) but because there was a conversation this evening that referred to the existence of this journal and I made some off-hand comment about "I might even write about you tonight" to which I was expecting some vague disinterest or perhaps a request for me to specifically not make references, but instead was left with the feeling that perhaps I should write and perhaps this page will be examined at some length for references to and conversations had during various parts of the evening.

Just thought we should clear that up.

I'd noted yesterday, while crawling around on the plaster-dust-covered floor, that I should really wear my heavy-duty work pants to work today to finish up the wiring of the network I've been installing in case I was working on the floor (which of course I would be) and in case the floor on which I was working was not swept (of course it was not). So I did. And this meant that I did not get any staples in my butt.

10:161

A phone call and a book reading later found me sitting at a bar in what is now known as SOHA (actually, both the bar and the area of the city in which it is located share that name, an abbreviation for "South Of HArlem," in an era where everything requires a neat label in order to be validated in the larger social fabric), nursing a large glass of water and wondering when, if ever, my friends were to arrive.

Thing about bars is that I don't particularly feel comfortable in them. Later, as said friend's cousin (or some such thing) approached us and slurred together a sentence that might have sounded like "my goats are hatching eggplants" but in reality was "I'm really glad to be out drinking tonight because my kid is home with my parents and I'm really glad to not be there and I feel like I'm now reliving part of my wild and crazy youth," I realized that there is nothing quite so unappealing as someone who is so drunk that they can hardly stand themselves up2.

Which isn't to say that there aren't situations where I actually enjoy the bar experience. There are. And they all involve my friends, and perhaps a drink or two (though in my recent panic I have realized that my current monetary output is far, far higher than my input and as such have decided to stop spending it on things that I don't really enjoy, like alcohol [ especially when there are girls around who will offer me sips of their drinks. mmm... drinks. ]) and, more often than not, the observation of the other patrons of the bar.

And so I decided last night, as I was sitting at this way-too-chic-to-be-on-Amsterdam bar with a large glass of water I forced myself to realize that nobody there actually cared that I might have looked like I was out of place and would probably only notice that I looked uncomfortable if I looked uncomfortable, a state that I would only be in if I thought that they cared. Which, obviously, they didn't. So I stopped caring. And it made the situation a lot more enjoyable and I got to sit and sip my clear, refreshing beverage (on the rocks as it were) and watch the world unfold around me.

Well, until my friends showed up. At which point I sat on a couch, in a jumble of bodies, biting the shoulder of one said friend and realizing just what an extreme oral fixation I actually have3.

And that was it. We left. We went back downtown. I visited an apartment in the Village and ate black beans. I came home happy and proceeded to write and fall asleep.

And that's pretty much where we came in.



1. Amusingly, I found myself asleep and subsequently waking up at 5am. I had no idea how I'd gotten to my bed but I knew that I had to get up and go to sleep. So I did. Quite reminiscent of college, I dare say.

Anyway.

2. Even, I have since decided, if that individual is a girl who is falling on me. As much as I love a cheap thrill, the realization that said individual (said hypothetical individual I must add, lest some self-absorbed reader believes herself to be the inspiration here) has completely lost control of most motor-control operations is enough to turn me off at least. On the other hand, it is very rare that I run into people that are so entirely inebriated that they are falling down smashed or whatnot, but I do recall once, outside of a bar between Avenues A and B, talking on my phone trying to make plans with a friend and witnessing a woman come rushing out of the bar and emptying the contents of her stomach out onto the sidewalk. It was really an unfortunate display and of course one of a complete extreme, but still, eww.

3. I suppose that normal people would use being drunk as an opportunity to do something like bite a friends' shoulder, but I don't seem to have to use that excuse. This should make my parents proud.

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