October 10, 2005

oh wait, that's right

I gave up overly whiny, pseudo poeticky posts like, a year and a half ago. Sorry bout that.

Anyways, Friday night wasn't so bad, really. My uncle had some photographs in a gallery downtown, so I went to the opening reception for that, and hung out with some lovely Japanese people from Madison's sister city. It was a dual show, with local artists and artists from Obihiro. And, I might add, that the Japanese have a wonderful use of color. Everything was a lot more vibrant and lush than I would have thought.

Included in the thought that everything was vibrant and lush included me after the Japanese beer I had at the open bar. MMMMmmmm.

Actually, no. I didn't get drunk, but it was a very good beer with a name that I could never pronounce.

And then, after the reception, just when the long speeches were starting, Dorothy Parker boy and his friend picked me up and took me to the concert. It was a good concert, except for the massive amounts of smelly lesbians at the concert. (Is that redundant?) We were like five rows from the stage during most of the show, but by the encore I had made my way up against the stage and almost got my hand stepped on by Carrie, who is, in fact, a guitar machine.

Though, you know, the whole thing with Dorothy Parker boy was a bust. His friend ended up positioning herself inbetween us the entire time, and she actively ignored me, or would repeat my quips to Dorothy Parker boy and pretend they were her own. DPB might have asked her to interlope, since going on a date with someone who's already admitted to not 'digging' you as much as you 'dig' him is going to be mighty awkward, but I would have much rather not been a third wheel on my own date.

Oh, and he hasn't called or IMed me since.

After the concert they dropped me off and then went out to the bars, not including me in their plans. I went to my roommate's from last year's house party and danced for like, 3 hours and won a 'drop it like it's hot' contest and worked off a lot of my frustrations on the dance floor.

Not enough, but a lot.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.