Not totally horrible. Certainly one of the worst nights this year, but I like to believe in making positives out of negatives. Learning experiences out of mistakes. Lemondrops out of lemons.When Revlis expected $5 to listen to experimental post-folk, renaissance techno band, Yoda House, in a dark art gallery we declined and saved $20 among ourselves.
When we stepped in a ten gallon piss puddle in Bum Piss Tunnel, it reminded me to go shopping for soap.
When a man from Tennessee relayed his personal tragedy to us for the twentieth time, we remembered the world does not revolve around us.
When I called a familiar acquaintance an immature prick after calling him out on eavesdropping, it reminded me that I am also an immature prick. We are all immature pricks. Zen Ohmmmmmm.
And when Jay kept me up until 4:30 this morning talking ad nauseam about the Gaza Strip, it reminded me that I have friends who willingly stay up until 4:30am and that comforts me.
Not the best night, not totally unforgettable, but at least I got to converse and stomp the sidewalks with my friends. And one immature prick.
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