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honky cracker: Rinse. Lather. Repeat. (My weekend report for Blaine, as well as some other groggy bloggy blargging)
Well, geez, I have a lot to say today. I don't know if I'll actually say it all, but what the hell.
This entry is going to be a bit more on the bloggy side than I usually like. (I mean, let's face it, who wants to hear "Oh, I did this today" or "I did that today"? Why is it always about me? I don't care. Why should you?) But hell, Blaine gave me an assignment, and by golly, I'm stickin' to it.
I'd like to start this entry out with a song by one of my all-time favorite musical acts, The Pixies. It's called Caribou, and it goes a little somethin' like this.
I live cement
I hate this street
Give dirt to me
I bite lament
This human form
Where I was born
I now repent
Caribou...
Repent
Repent
Give me white
Ground to run
And foregone
Lets me knife
Knife me lets
I will get
What I like
Caribou...
Repent
Repent
I spent a lot of time alone this weekend - which, it appears I'll be doing a lot of in the near future - and my favorite things to do alone are 1) listen to the Pixies and 2) watch David Lynch movies. That was essentially my Friday night. I helped Klutch and Q move into their wondertabulous new pad, then rented Blue Velvet and Lynched myself to sleep. I dreamed that Dennis Hopper was doing very nasty things to me. It was great.
Saturday rolled around and I realized that no one was around, anywhere, and that I was left all alone. So I decided to go to this place called Toad that my friend Decker has told me about. Toad has live music every night, and they don't charge a cover because they don't pay the bands. Apparently, it's where people go when they want to hear musicians who can't get a paying gig - which I thought was a nice little metaphor for my life. So I went.
They make their drinks strong at Toad. I settled in at the bar, ordered myself a Tanqueray and Tonic, ordered another one. Moved on to Jack and Coke. By that point a couple of lovely young ladies had entered the bar, and I noticed that one of 'em kept settlin' up next to me and chatting every time she ordered a drink. Most people would've realized that the girl was hitting on them, but not me. I just figured she was making polite conversation until her drink came. Until she invited me to go join her at her table.
I often forget that I'm a young, virile man and reasonably attractive for someone who compares in stature to Herve Villechaize.
So I get to the table and sit with these two young ladies... and it turns out that they are quite 'hot' as the kids say. But I have no interest in holding up a conversation. Just not in the mood. Eventually they left. I went home shortly thereafter and watched a documentary on BlueVelvet and fell asleep to Mulholland Drive.
Sunday was a Sunday. I had the best omelet I've ever eaten. Walked out on the Esplanade. Got some ice cream. Had martinis over my friends Jess and Paul's place. Went to bed watching the rebroadcast Sports Final. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.
And so that was the weekend...
Another strange thing that's been happening lately - people I haven't seen in years keep popping back into my life. Last Monday, Klutch and I realized that exactly ten years ago we were in Russia with all of our little Russia buddies. So we decided to hunt them down - using the power of the wireless web and 411 - and call them. We got two of them. Conversations were lovely. Everybody is well and in love and sans babies. Yay.
Thursday night, after attending the verdict of the Pete Rose mock trial, I ran into a girl I went to theater school with. Hadn't seen her in four years. Whoa.
Then just today as I was getting on the T, I looked to my left and realized that the girl standing next to me was the first girl I ever went out with in college. I didn't say anything, cuz who remembers their first college fling from, oh, eight years ago, and I didn't want to remind her of my gawkish ineptitude for seemingly everything. I just went to work, and here I am.
Speaking of getting in touch with people from long ago - I really, really need to get in touch with this person. I have a big long entry written up about the whole thing which I'll probably post either later or tomorrow... but after not seeing someone for ten years, how do you even go about finding them - and if you do find them, what do you do? "Hi! Haven't talked to you in a decade. Been google-stalking you. How've you been?"
I wanted this to be longer, more articulate, and charming. But I just don't have the time for it right now.
Aw, fuck it. Time for a smoke.
