Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Friday, December 03, 2004


Did I mention fiscal discipline? Oops. I bought the new Tom Wolfe book, a couple DVDs, and replaced a copy of A Prayer For Owen Meany by John Irving that I gave to a friend moving to Florida a couple years ago. It's my favorite book, I think. I'm a happy kid with new toys.

More final posterity notes from 2004... I've never been to a strip club, but I did attend my first bachelor party. It was... weird. The three dancers were friendly, sexy, and entertaining, but I'm not sure whether I'm impressed or disgusted by a vibrator being muscleshot from a pussy over an improvised goalpost. I know I liked the ice cube and lifesaver tricks. Although my eyes were glued to the spectacle I didn't leave horny or frustrated. I thought I would feel lonely and angry when I left. At the time I just wanted to smoke pot, not get laid. I didn't even masturbate that night. I had been drinking, though, and unlike everybody else, apparently, alcohol actually dampens my libido. Which screws up the whole drunken inhibition lowering combo. If I tried to pick up drunk women while I was sober, I would feel like a creep. Oh well, I've gotten by as a relatively happy person without much lust or romance so far, so I don't worry about it. Much.

My former roomie and current roomie went to a party last Saturday night, and suprisingly got in a fight. With other people, not each other. Patrick, the former roomie, bashed some goomba over the head with glass Bacardi bottle 4 times and ran like hell. The current roomie, Tom, took the punishment for it and came home with several cuts and bruises on his head. He'd driven Partick to the party in the suburbs, well west of O'Hare, and Patrick lives in the Logan Square area, well into Chicago. I got a call from the freezing and wandering Patrick at 8:30 in the morning, well after Tom had returned home. I brought him home. Idiots.

This weekend I shall luxuirate amidst my newly pristine bedroom, blasting the new U2 and reading. Wintertime=reading.

It feels nice to be writing something, anything. Really nice, even if it's a few mundane observances serving as snapshots in time.
2:00 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


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