October 4th, 2004

I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

Crippling Entry

Or so it seems to me, to be typing directly into a little webby window thingy, and not, as is my habit, into my amassed journal document which I then paste into the little webby window thingy …

It's a tiny detail, you might think, but it bothers me, not having access to my computer.

Here are some things that have passed:
  • Went to The Cramps show the other night, the which show of what whereat was opened by of the Rock City Morguelets, sounding as good as ever. Cheers to you.
  • Got very much a lot way too drunk too soon and actually left The Cramps early because my enjoyment was being impaired by my impairment due to my enjoying cocktails.
  • Bartended Lateefa Wright's second annual doll show at Poets Gallery. I do miss bartending, and working an open bar is even more pleasant because, c'mon, no one's going to throw you 'tude when the dranks be free yo. Thanks once again to My Baby Momma #3 for allowing the honor of servin' it up Saturday night.
  • defenstr8ter popped into the doll show, by the merest chance. "Hey, I would like to introduce you to a couple of San Francisco friends of mine…" Before the sentence was finished, I was thinking, there's a wee chance I may already know them. Sho' nuff, Miss Defenestr8er introduced me to blau, whom I knew a decade and two thousand miles ago, and with whom I had fallen out of touch rather completely. Which would explain any deficit I felt my life was accumulating because, as I recalled from the mid-90s and as he has proven again, there are just some exquisite specimins of people out there, and I'm lucky to know the ones I do.
  • So we all met Sunday night to catch up. Cocktails chez Clifford. (Blau, mon chou, forget not your most gracious offer to aid me in finding a data recovery company!) Then out to a southern fried dinner in the Quarter. Cocktails at Dervish. The whole evening was extrememly flashbacky for me, as I used to see this fellow quite a lot, and then not at all for eight years or so, and, and, and — oh all right, I'm waxing nostalgic for my S.F. days. Don't tell anyone or I'll cut your heart out. No, I don't entertain thoughts of returning. It sucks there. Plus, it's California. You know when you start to get a cold and you dose up on garlic, vit-C, painkillers, and anything else about the size of a pill, then your mind gets fuzzy, and you find yourself rambling to your boyfriend, the cat, or god forbid, the computer, then people have to read it, and they're thinking, "Um, there is a point to what he's writing. I'm sure of it. Maybe if I just read a little farther, he will not let me down. He will get back on track. I've read him before. He doesn't seem impossibly unfocused. Hmm, but here he is, still rambling, still rambling. I hope he's all right. Perhaps I should call someone. An intervention of sorts."
  • That's what you're saying, right?
  • Wow. I've totally lost my train of thought, and the next train doesn't arrive at this station till Thursday.
  • Choo choo.
  • Bye-bye.
  • Current Mood
    confused confused