SelectionIll
Bluelighter
I drank way too much last night.
Well, to be truthful, it wasn't just me.
You see, my friend Mike, the painter/design teacher, is moving from downtown to an apartment in grandview and we all grabbed our dirty gloves and old blue jeans and helped him move. He lives quite a spartan lifestyle so it was really pretty quick and painless. Scott showed up around 12:30 p.m. with his truck and helped to move the two big things, (couch and computer desk) then the choosing began for what to do with the evening.
that did not go very well at all.
In our little group, there are vegans, vegetarians, finiky eaters, alcoholics, agoraphobics as well as generaly delicate flowers. I wanted to bowl, my wife wanted, I don't know, something else, there was making of fun of...well people. so, of course, my wife and i got into a bit of a, verbal, well, a go, you know, at it.
It wasn't particuliarly brutal, it was actually quiet and tame, relatively. But, it was in front of people, so we decided we'd split (leave) and call the crew and find out what the dilly was later.
In this brief interlude, there was driving and individual movie watching, and gnashing of teeth and tearing at chests and socking (punching) of heads (my own). In other words, I knew I was wrong and punished myself, violently for it, while my wife went to a movie to let me stew and puch myself. I have a knack for it. I can beat myself up handily, and quickly, I might add, you know, in case we have reservations somewhere.
Of course, at the end of this interlude, I could be seen apologizing to my wonderful wife, Meshel, the Beautiful Butterfly. I was kneeling on the bed in front of her, and she took my bruised and bloodied head in her hands and kissed me. It was very sweet. She had blood on the tip of her nose, like when you drink hot choclate with whipped cream on top. We both laughed and she forgave me, for being a man and so short sighted.
I had roughed myself up pretty swell, so I couldn't remember exactly what I had done wrong right then, but I can remember now, so I guess that was a productive fight, yes?
So, around 9:00 p.m., the phone calls start around the crew. Mason to Mike, Mike to Mason, Mike to Scott, Scott to Eric, Eric to Scott, Scott to Mike, Mason to Eric, and so on.
Sample Conversation:
E- (on phone)Let's meet up over at Marks.
S- Sorry, Lauren ain't havin it. She saw that video at the last show...
E- Ah. Well, Mason and I are gonna go over there and spin some records for an hour, give us a call over there when you're ready to go to Dick's (a jazz bar).
S- Ok. Hold on... ... ... Ok, we're gonna go out to get something to eat before the bar.
E- Well, hold on... ... ... Alright, we'll go to. How about Sushi.
S- Hold on... ... Sounds great.
E- Ok. I'll call Mason and see if he wants to come.
S- Right. Call me back. Oh, wait, we'll just come over.
E- Groov-e. See you in a minute.
S- Peace.
E- (not on phone) Hey Meshel.
M- Yea?
E- There all gonna meet over here.
M- Oh. We'd better clean up.
E- I gotta call Mike. (I forgot to do that)
and so on.
So, The Sushi restaraunt. Our Waiter looked just like a Japanese Thom York, but without the whole sides of the face looking different from each other thing. Have you ever noticed that if you put a piece of paper over one side of Thom York's face at a time, they look like two completely different people. Like the angels and devils of our nature both visible at once. No wounder he's so wounded. Poor Thom. Back to topic.
The waiter was very attractive. I would have kissed him, on the mouth, given the opportunity.
I have to continue this story later. I've got to work on some lyrics for 'The Stutter Brothers' this afternoon. It's so great. It involves getting drunk in the afternoon and one-upping Mr. Scotty Boombox in ways to offend the audience, but still have them on our side.
anywhooo, I'll finish this later. I'm prety happy telling you all this story. It's got a few funny points and a real solid finish.
until then
(ooooo there are multiple, multiple-wultiple sirens and fire trucks outside our apartment...right out front. maybe the war started.)
seemore
[ 26 January 2003: Message edited by: SelectionIll ]
[ 27 January 2003: Message edited by: SelectionIll ]
Well, to be truthful, it wasn't just me.
You see, my friend Mike, the painter/design teacher, is moving from downtown to an apartment in grandview and we all grabbed our dirty gloves and old blue jeans and helped him move. He lives quite a spartan lifestyle so it was really pretty quick and painless. Scott showed up around 12:30 p.m. with his truck and helped to move the two big things, (couch and computer desk) then the choosing began for what to do with the evening.
that did not go very well at all.
In our little group, there are vegans, vegetarians, finiky eaters, alcoholics, agoraphobics as well as generaly delicate flowers. I wanted to bowl, my wife wanted, I don't know, something else, there was making of fun of...well people. so, of course, my wife and i got into a bit of a, verbal, well, a go, you know, at it.
It wasn't particuliarly brutal, it was actually quiet and tame, relatively. But, it was in front of people, so we decided we'd split (leave) and call the crew and find out what the dilly was later.
In this brief interlude, there was driving and individual movie watching, and gnashing of teeth and tearing at chests and socking (punching) of heads (my own). In other words, I knew I was wrong and punished myself, violently for it, while my wife went to a movie to let me stew and puch myself. I have a knack for it. I can beat myself up handily, and quickly, I might add, you know, in case we have reservations somewhere.
Of course, at the end of this interlude, I could be seen apologizing to my wonderful wife, Meshel, the Beautiful Butterfly. I was kneeling on the bed in front of her, and she took my bruised and bloodied head in her hands and kissed me. It was very sweet. She had blood on the tip of her nose, like when you drink hot choclate with whipped cream on top. We both laughed and she forgave me, for being a man and so short sighted.
I had roughed myself up pretty swell, so I couldn't remember exactly what I had done wrong right then, but I can remember now, so I guess that was a productive fight, yes?
So, around 9:00 p.m., the phone calls start around the crew. Mason to Mike, Mike to Mason, Mike to Scott, Scott to Eric, Eric to Scott, Scott to Mike, Mason to Eric, and so on.
Sample Conversation:
E- (on phone)Let's meet up over at Marks.
S- Sorry, Lauren ain't havin it. She saw that video at the last show...
E- Ah. Well, Mason and I are gonna go over there and spin some records for an hour, give us a call over there when you're ready to go to Dick's (a jazz bar).
S- Ok. Hold on... ... ... Ok, we're gonna go out to get something to eat before the bar.
E- Well, hold on... ... ... Alright, we'll go to. How about Sushi.
S- Hold on... ... Sounds great.
E- Ok. I'll call Mason and see if he wants to come.
S- Right. Call me back. Oh, wait, we'll just come over.
E- Groov-e. See you in a minute.
S- Peace.
E- (not on phone) Hey Meshel.
M- Yea?
E- There all gonna meet over here.
M- Oh. We'd better clean up.
E- I gotta call Mike. (I forgot to do that)
and so on.
So, The Sushi restaraunt. Our Waiter looked just like a Japanese Thom York, but without the whole sides of the face looking different from each other thing. Have you ever noticed that if you put a piece of paper over one side of Thom York's face at a time, they look like two completely different people. Like the angels and devils of our nature both visible at once. No wounder he's so wounded. Poor Thom. Back to topic.
The waiter was very attractive. I would have kissed him, on the mouth, given the opportunity.
I have to continue this story later. I've got to work on some lyrics for 'The Stutter Brothers' this afternoon. It's so great. It involves getting drunk in the afternoon and one-upping Mr. Scotty Boombox in ways to offend the audience, but still have them on our side.
anywhooo, I'll finish this later. I'm prety happy telling you all this story. It's got a few funny points and a real solid finish.
until then
(ooooo there are multiple, multiple-wultiple sirens and fire trucks outside our apartment...right out front. maybe the war started.)
seemore
[ 26 January 2003: Message edited by: SelectionIll ]
[ 27 January 2003: Message edited by: SelectionIll ]
