I had so much flippin' fun this week.
Monday, I stayed at home. After the experience of Saturday night, which was the height of St. Patrick's Day weekend, I really didn't want to go anywhere near downtown, so I had a quiet night of fixing Brian's computer and then lounging around on the couch.
Tuesday was a different story.
I started my evening by meeting a random acquaintance I'd made in midtown on saturday, to see if I could stand him one on one for a long period of time. About a half hour after we started hanging out, I had the distinct urge for a martini, so I suppose that's a no. Fortunately I cut it short by having Arthur come to Temple and rescue me- earlier I'd encouraged him to join my friend Elise and I at True Love, and so he did and we all settled in for a rousing game of sudden-death Trivial Pursuit. I totally won, because out of the three of us I knew the most about sports. Not saying much, but hey. After that A. and I made a botched attempt to buy Goldfrapp tickets and then hung out at the Doubletree hotel, watching ducks. I totally scooted his not-moped along the parking lot, which was fun. I actually increasingly want one of those; sure, there's no trunk space whatsoever, but they're supercute and wouldn't kill me were i to lose my balance.
We were waiting for Susan, who was up for late night adventuring. So, after I found a trenchcoat, we met up at a shell station and proceeded to head downtown. Our first stop was Press, but the place as absolutely dead. There was a distinct lack of music, a scooter parked on the dancefloor, and five people in the bar. So, we thought up other options, the most interesting of which seemed to be Lipstick. S had been there several times, but it was the first time for both A and I. And it was AWESOMETASTICAL: the second we got in we headed to the dancefloor and just couldn't stop. And we were dancing, and it was hot, and we were dancing, and it was hot, and then all of the sudden it was really hot, and I looked to my left and the club was on fire! The official story was that someone had fucked up the electrics below the stage, but either way I ended up lost in a crowd of hipsters trying to get out of the club through the main door- even though there are three exits. So, with Lipstick done with insanely early, we three compadres began looking for a 24-hour walmart, as there is nothing better to do at 3am that's not mexican food of dubious quality. That turned into an hour of driving around and singing along with various Strong Females In Love before S inevitably dropped A at his scooter and me at my house.
A left his bag in S's car, so it was my job to meet up with same and grab it before I went to his house for a taco night. You know, I have to say, it's kind of fun being the follower sometimes- the whole visit was pretty much controlled by him. "room time" "star trek time" "taco time" etc. In fact, I was so out of control that i ended up falling asleep on his couch. I kind of hate falling asleep around other people, unless other people are already asleep... unless I really trust the person. So basically I really hated that I fell asleep, because much as I enjoy A as a person and regardless of what we've done I don't truly trust people until I've known them for years. I also hated it because i missed the last half of the film "Thomas Amoureaux" which I was really enjoying before I. You know. Fell asleep.
The next night we had promised S to go to this night called Redemption, which is, as you'd expect, a goth night. Which, you know, cool, whatever, but one problem: A hadn't any makeup and I hadn't any goth clothes anymore. S came over around 5.30 or so and we bummed around my place for a bit listening to Crystal Castles' new eponymous release until it was time to go to A's. At same, we engaged in a brutally fast dressing session wherein S was exposed to more gay-man flesh than she had been in a while- I see her in various states of undress all the time, but I think this is the first time in years she's even seen me without a shirt- and, A wearing a suit and I decked out like Deckard, we headed out. S, for the record, was scandalously hot as a naughty librarian.
We entered to silence and various goths milling about waiting for something to happen, and spent about three hours that way. I had fun, but aside from discussing the finer points of Star Trek and A finally getting rid of that noxious callertune, nothing of importance happened. As eventually happens when you hang out with S for more than a day, we ended up at a 24-hour mexican joint, and that was when I got the call.
It was Brian. His new bird got out, and it was on the roof. Apparently B is afraid of heights, but he was going to have to get over it anyway, so we spent a couple minutes being Encouraging Friends and telling him to grow some balls and get up on his roof. The call was ended, the meal went on, and around 20 minutes later or so, I got the second call. B. "I can't... I can't get down", he said, sobbing. He was absolutely petrified. My first reaction, I'm sorry to say, was to crack the fuck up, but I kept a lid on it. The exchange ended when I couldn't be a good person anymore, which was when I said "Baby, darling, I'm going to give you to A", handed off the phone and dissolved into a giggling fit. A and I passed the phone back and forth because we both couldn't stop laughing, and we assured B that we'd be there. Cut to B's. I scramble up the admittedly rickety ladder to the roof and make it up in about five seconds, placing myself on the most stable section of unoccupied roof I can find. A holds the ladder and we eventually get B down, in a manner not unlike coaxing a cat. S comes up, we chat for a while, and then we leave- laughing our asses off the second the car starts. S and I drop off A, A gave me the lamp he promised me (but not the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster t-shirt; I want to be touched by His Noodly Appendage, damnit!) and I get kicked out of the car when I get home.
Work today was super fun because this constant socializing has afforded me the lack of sleep that is the only true catalyst for treating things as if they were at all times completely surreal and absurd. Which they are, but there's this strange human instinct to treat absolutely everything one does as if it were A Very Important Meaningful Thing. People wonder why I'm so apathetic about things sometimes and passionate at others; it's because of the fact that I'm constantly battling against that instinct. In 5,000 years it's not going to matter who wins this election, who's fucking who, what artist is doing what strange new thing, etc. The ephemerality of life is a beautiful thing and we spend far too much time trying to make it into this solid, unelastic thing because we avoid the concept that it's not going to be forever.
That being said, McCain is batshit crazy and Obama is looking really appealing.
Tonight I've been kind of wishing that time really was a 4-d crystal hanging in a transdimensional fluid or whatever. It would be so convenient to know where you were going to end up with people, I have to say. I had a dream the other night about tesseracting- that technique L'engle discussed where you "wrinkle" space and time t get where you'd rather be- and it really made me want to be able to, I suppose, look up the history slash future with some people. It'd make things a little more bittersweet but also much more upfront; for example, if I'd known that eventually my dynamic with Kyle was going to turn into him trying to scam me for money and bitch about things I could not possibly care about even tangentially, I wouldn't have taken our breakupnotbreakup nearly as badly as I did. Honestly I think that's why I still have the urge to contact Logan- he's the only person who ever dumped me that hasn't proven himself to be a total asshat, by which I mean a human being. He exists in memory for me, which will probably at one point change, but for the time being his only strikes are a ridiculous beard and a mtchbox twenty lyric on his myspace. Compared to some of my other exes? Not bad at all.
(A, if you're reading this, no, I'm not referring to you. You proved yourself a practitioner of asshaberdashery long before you dumped me :P)
Anyway, tomorrow is the big birthday shindig. Oh. I should probably talk about that for a bit.
So Mario is apparently done with me. He's 20, and while I can't possibly get into his head and figure out his decision making process, it probably has something to do with the face that A was sick of his asininity and decided to cut him off and I must have inadvertently "taken A's side" . Aside from stupid events that I can't do anything about, don't know the veracity of, and happened in the past anyway, I have no qualms with either of them, and think they should both stop taking the things they bitch(ed) about while speaking of each other so seriously. But nobody listens to meeee... anyway, M called me to tell me that no, he couldn't come to the party, because he'd be in SF. He then asked if A was going to be there, which he
better will be, and then proceeded to give reason after reason why he couldn't be there, hee hee, hope you have a good time, etc. I'm okay with this. It's one less person who won't bring booze and proceed to drink all of mine, as my lovely housemate so fittingly put it. In general, he's nice and everything, but I have a ton of nice friends, nicer friends even, and they can't top Showgirls in terms of sheer insipidness (no mean feat, but somehow he did it). So, ciao M. That didn't last long.
Wow, that was the longest post I've written in months. Okay, so it's 12.58, and that means sleep time for Zero. I hope to see many of you at the party tomorrow!
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
working
cranky
tired
sick