Marc
Look at the time, how it flies and flies. I got home about three hours ago, and I'm still amazed I'm not asleep. Hell, I was drunk. Now I'm not. A miracle of modern science.
My old pal, Ted, came over tonight and we talked, and reminisced about my old straightedge days, and the stories nestled therein. Did you know that the first night I started drinking at Illinois State I passed out standing up in (a) the basement of a frathouse, and (b) the shower in the bathroom on my floor. Apparently I also had women all over me at this party we went to earlier that night, but I don't remember that. Wonder why. Doesn't matter. That was over four years ago. No time to dwell on the past. Unless ...
Ted and I and one of my first roommates (there were technically four the first year) spent our first finals week drunk and walking around campus, looking for things to. I, who had only been straightedge less than two months prior, somehow made my way to a Steak N' Shake at two am on a Tuesday night and watched Mikey (the first roommate) stand on a table and do the Vince Vaughn scene from Swingers. "Who's the big winner tonight? Mikey, that's right! Here, have this, I couldn't possibly touch it." Classic. And classy.
I've been reviewing the mixed CD I spent most of last night making. It all sounds like its a "go" now, but we'll have to give it a week. Now I just have to design a cover and get some other supplemental material, and put it in the mail. The holidays are approaching quickly, you know? There's only so much time. Which reminds me ...
I got an anonymous Valentine's Day package last year at about this time, and much to my surprise I was able to guess who had sent it to me, though she wasn't part of my immediate circle of friends. She ran with a different crew. The mixed CD that she included was bar none one of the best mixes I've ever heard (keep in mind I haven't listened to a lot of them, but still ... fucking grade A). Had there been no Sig Transit Gloria or Shellac on it, I would've been completely floored. We went on a date, didn't quite work out. It was one of those things where a few little things compounded to freak me out -- big time, and I ended up back at home in Zach's bedroom shaking my head and saying, "nah brah". But still, I think about that cd and wish I hadn't lost it.
And the girl who sent it to me and spent all the time wrapping and decorating the box and putting in little cards and trying to be anonymous and whatnot, I think she hates me now, which I've thought pretty much since last year, but eh. That seems to be a disturbing trend of late -- me thinking that people hate me after dating me, but it could all be in my head, a lot like everything else. Heads are funny, aren't they? The last person that I dated that I don't think thinks ill of me was in 1999. Yikes.
I will go on. I will survive. Or whatev.
Look at the time, how it flies and flies. I got home about three hours ago, and I'm still amazed I'm not asleep. Hell, I was drunk. Now I'm not. A miracle of modern science.
My old pal, Ted, came over tonight and we talked, and reminisced about my old straightedge days, and the stories nestled therein. Did you know that the first night I started drinking at Illinois State I passed out standing up in (a) the basement of a frathouse, and (b) the shower in the bathroom on my floor. Apparently I also had women all over me at this party we went to earlier that night, but I don't remember that. Wonder why. Doesn't matter. That was over four years ago. No time to dwell on the past. Unless ...
Ted and I and one of my first roommates (there were technically four the first year) spent our first finals week drunk and walking around campus, looking for things to. I, who had only been straightedge less than two months prior, somehow made my way to a Steak N' Shake at two am on a Tuesday night and watched Mikey (the first roommate) stand on a table and do the Vince Vaughn scene from Swingers. "Who's the big winner tonight? Mikey, that's right! Here, have this, I couldn't possibly touch it." Classic. And classy.
I've been reviewing the mixed CD I spent most of last night making. It all sounds like its a "go" now, but we'll have to give it a week. Now I just have to design a cover and get some other supplemental material, and put it in the mail. The holidays are approaching quickly, you know? There's only so much time. Which reminds me ...
I got an anonymous Valentine's Day package last year at about this time, and much to my surprise I was able to guess who had sent it to me, though she wasn't part of my immediate circle of friends. She ran with a different crew. The mixed CD that she included was bar none one of the best mixes I've ever heard (keep in mind I haven't listened to a lot of them, but still ... fucking grade A). Had there been no Sig Transit Gloria or Shellac on it, I would've been completely floored. We went on a date, didn't quite work out. It was one of those things where a few little things compounded to freak me out -- big time, and I ended up back at home in Zach's bedroom shaking my head and saying, "nah brah". But still, I think about that cd and wish I hadn't lost it.
And the girl who sent it to me and spent all the time wrapping and decorating the box and putting in little cards and trying to be anonymous and whatnot, I think she hates me now, which I've thought pretty much since last year, but eh. That seems to be a disturbing trend of late -- me thinking that people hate me after dating me, but it could all be in my head, a lot like everything else. Heads are funny, aren't they? The last person that I dated that I don't think thinks ill of me was in 1999. Yikes.
I will go on. I will survive. Or whatev.
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