Drunk log

Friday, August 31, 2007

11:55pm - Well we've made it out this evening and the recovery of me seems fairly legit at the moment. God Bless Dave. That's all I'll say about that.

Times are so far good. I feel bad about Ellie. Here she is, always asking us to hang out with her on her early-off day (which is Monday) and lo and behold we were partying hard this very Monday but nowhere near her place. Sorry, legitimately. Better foresight next time.

Natalie, my former fiancee, seems very much disinterested. I don't blame her: I'm a disinteresting person sometimes. It's okay though--we weren't really right for each other anyway. You gotta try though, you gotta try. Alack and alas.

Saturday, September 1, 2007

12:20pm - I just can't say no right now. Can't say no to the events of my life as they unfold organically in front of my face and over my head.

12:23pm - I'm thinking the 'boats against the currents' line from Gatsby now but not quite morose--or douche--enough to transcribe it fully.

12:28pm - On from Camelot, for love, for fear, with regret or not, The Lady of Shalott.

There's some fucking morosity for you. Probably some Double-D Douche, too.

I spite myself in sickness and in health.

5:17pm - So what did we learn from the OSU bar earlier?

1. I am not, in fact, a poet.

2. Semi-hot waitresses like to hit on Hudik and I.

3. I'm so awesome that I didn't even solicit a number.

7:05pm - Well shit. A wonderfully attractive African Queen has been making eyes at me here at Rudy's. Believe it or not but I might actually be a little embarrassed. First I thought she was alone so I eye-d back at her and was 10 seconds from walking over and making it happen. Then I noticed the second beer at her table. She was not ashamed and kept the intoxicatingly obvious distance-flirt going. Then I noticed the ridiculously thuggish dude finally appear at her table. Then I pondered what it would be like to get in a fight at 7 on a Saturday afternoon in Hell's Kitchen. With a thug. Then I enlisted Tony to take out his legs for me. Of course, because she's a woman and I'm a man, she kept up the game. God bless her. So it's fun.

7:12pm - D-bags just questioned my write-itude. Called my shit "chicken scratch." I said no it's my very own kind of Chinese characters.

7:20pm- I just was talking to Tony about his nice New Balance kicks. He's proud of the blue on them. I thought they looked suspiciously big so I put my thumb on the toe like a guy at Foot Locker.....and........what do you fucking know but he's cheating by a good inch. I don't think I blame him what with those freakishly tiny feet.........but, lo............here's the rub.........he takes off the shoe...........and he's cheating in a SIZE SEVEN. God Bless Tony. It's nice to know a (fully grown) human being who has to cheat his way into a size 7.

11:26pm - dba pony tail john lennon glasses good luck with life. I've been feeling much more asshole-ish in the last couple hours. I guess that's a bad thing. People aren't necessarily reacting poorly yet.

11:33pm - You know I've been having some seriously f-ed up dreams lately. Can't even transcribe the one from last night. Suffice to say I was acting unconsciously obnoxious and seriously seriously angering a few people whom I would reall really not want to anger. So it's weird cause it didn't actually happen but it felt real so still I feel bad. Shame, I suppose.
Time unknown - Thank goodness for Ellie, that wonderful SOB. If it weren't for her, I'd still be bleeding like a madman, unconsciously waiting for others to say hell yeah. Ellie allows me to be totally drunk in an E Village park, twixt 1st and A. Good luck to you. I used to barf in here, but thankfully not tonight. My shame tonight is that I might start bleeding like a fountain any moment. Good Luck, Go Drunk my dad is off his tree right now.
Time unknown - I fight and beg to be within the line. I wrote a poem for the girl at Tonic. Love happens.

Sunday, September 2, 2007

9:38pm - Feeling.............I'm definitely-------------feeling the Sweater Song now.
Ode to Snatch incarnating itself. Supagood. I yearn for a flowering cornucopia of cunt.