July 30, 2000.  Sunday

 
    A little quiet time to myself right now.  Not that I've been doing anything terribly exciting. But I did have an above average weekend.  So let's begin.

    Friday after work, James and I went over to Rodzilla's East Village apartment, just to look around. I was fairly beat, having spent the last two nights at Rodzilla's place.  It's a nice place, but it's not so cozy on a cold but humid morning.  But I had to vacate before the nuns arrived in the school downstairs, around 7:30.  But it was Friday, after all, and being the working stiff I am required me to rejoice in the weekend.  After walking Rodzilla to work, we headed over to the Sidewalk for a coupla drinks.  I've been drinking more steadily lately, since I started work and since Rodzilla moved here.  Not coincidentally, I haven't been getting a lot of excercise. Anyhow, after a little bit of meandering about, James and I headed back here to Brooklyn, where we were hoping to find Jed.  And there he was.  With alcohol heightened nostalgia, we set up the drums for a little rockin out.  I almost always enjoy playing music with James and Jed.  we spent the next few hours playing all the old hits of Underpants Cowboy, and they still sounded pretty good.  A good time was had by all. But sometimes playing with James is like hooking up with an ex-girlfriend.  Things are fun, but you know how it is.  you have a few drinks, start talking about old times, say some things... Everyone's happy during, but you don't want to get your hopes up too much because in the morning things'll go back to reality.   Anyhow, that may be an awkward metaphor, but it was still on my mind.  But we played just about every song we know how to play together and some we don't.  The songs themselves still sound good.  I got to hand it to James, he writes really good songs.  His current project, Durdy Birdie, is a drastic departure from the rockin silliness of the 'Pants, but it's still good.  And there was some talk of putting all the songs on a cd sometime. So that'd be a nice little treat for ya.

    Matt showed up at some point during the evening, after "a long day in pig-land" as he called it.  meaning with his law firm, etc.   He offered us some Lebanese food he'd bought but didn't particularly like, but somehow ground meat in grape leaves wasn't going to do much for me at 1 am.  Last time I did that, I woke up Matt, who was sleeping in the living room, with the sound of my rocket vomitting.  Not fun.   James told me that around 4am, Matt was devouring his damn grapeleaves and meat.  A fun night to be sure.  its rare these days for us all to be together.  And every god damn thing was hilarious.  Jed would say things and not even realize he was saying them.  James was continually losing his shit was watchin matt be matt, and I just sat there tired and wanting to sleep.  So i did, and slept a good 11 hours.

    So the first half of saturday was spent watching tv, eating loads of cream cheese, and sitting around utterly incapable of anything productive.  Rodzilla called around 5, so I scurried on over into Manhattan.  We decided to continue living well beyond our means, and went out to a very nice dinner at a decent restaurant that was probably too nice for our meager budgets.  But that's New York.  But she should be making a lotta dough soon. The restaurant she works at is rather nice.  Their wine menu boasts a bottle for 2000 dollars, one of which was ordered just last week.  Of course, a 20% tip on the wine alone wold be 400 dollars.  Not that they sell one of those every week, but it's that kind of place.  Anyway, we walked across the street and met James and his friend Dierdre for a quick drink, and came back to Brooklyn, where Jed and Aaron, formerly of the SHOE, were chillin.  We played a lotta cards, watched some tv, drank a good but, and called it a night.
    You know, just for shits and grins, I just wrote a much more detailed, explicit account of the evening, and just erased it.  The experience of writing gloriously uncensored accounts was oddly and thrillingly liberating, imagining that I might maybe forget what I'd written and post it for all to see.  But I can think of several people who'd be a mix of furious, exasperated, and disappointed in me if I did such a thing.  Anyway, this censored account will have to do.

    Today has been cloudy and humid and sort of unpleasant all around. had an obscenely large breakfast which I didn't even want down the street at Dizzy's a little expensive diner down the street.  It's supposed to be a diner, but it's really more of a gourmet eatery.  So I spent the hours between 3 and 9 feeling horribly bloated and uncomfortable and seeking refuge from the mild but damp air.  Besides brunch the only time I left the house was to drive Rodzilla home.
 

    Anyway, this doesn't seem to be going anywhere, and I'm suprised it's gone on this long.  Oh yeah, I watched the VH1 Behind the Music on the Bangles and the Go-Go's tonight.  I'm more impressed with them than i was in the past, since they did mostly write their own songs and play their own instruments (that, and because that Susanna Hoffs was a hotty), instead of these prefab groups and 15  year old girls prancing around. Speaking of which, I turned on the TV today, and it was on HBO, which was showing the N'sync concert from New York. The funny thing is, i couldn't stop watching.  I was just absolutely fascinated by the whole thing.  I was also trying to figure out if they were really singing. There's this naive romantic side of me that always wants to believe goodness and honesty.  It's the same part of me that for a long time desperately wanted to believe that pro wrestling wasn't fake.
 

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