When I was in prison, you bought me cigarettes every day.

I can't believe I'm up right now. It feels so, so early, but it's probably the latest I've slept in this week. Last night I went to a poetry reading for school (as in, students from my school read their crap) at Casa Libre (which you can check out on the links). Afterward a few people stayed on to hang out with the couple who own/run the place, most of them drinking drinks and complaining about the cold. I have the distinct feeling that drinking around most of the people in the program will get me in a world of dramatic, lame, pain--and I'm getting tattooed today--so I keep the water with bubbles in green glass around most of the time. There was a fat cat that only sits on the laps of people whom are allergic to cats, and I found myself brushing her off me more than once. People kept coming to the back, where we were, that we didn't know, but knew the runners of the place, and when they started stripping down to hop in the spa, we knew our time had come.

Off to Club Congress, where like 1/2 the program was drinking and complaining about their girlfriends, who were about fifteen feet away from them, laughing about how they have their boyfriends dialed in to the point where they almost, almost, feel bad. One of the boyfriends said that a random girl at the place was so hot, and had legs so long, blah blah blah, and just gave her the long drunk stare until I gave him a great pickup line: "Dude, go up to her and say, 'you know why the yankees always win? because of the pinstripes'" and then you can talk about how her legs are winners for their pinstripes, too. Surprisingly, he went right over and did this. Not surprisingly, it didn't work at all, his girlfriend saw, and he had to go home while she stayed out with The Girls.

The point of all this was to say that I had to walk around for an hour and a half after I had wanted to get home because I was supposed to get a ride from someone and it ended up being a little more involved than anyone wants a ride home to be. Keys lost, dramatic drunk people, a cellphone turned off--standard Friday night fare. I'm home safely, thankyou, and tired. The coffee should be done brewing, and that's my cue.