Saturday night. Holy crap. As if staying out until 5am on Friday wasn't enough.
Kevin brought me out to a rather nice apartment party in Greenpoint. Third wave kind of scene; young professionals; tasty artichoke dip; the sort of thing that threatens to price me out of my old neighborhood. I don't know how it happened, but Franz and I worked our way through a bottle of Wild Turkey in about two hours, things get hazy from there. We were disputing over the issue of Federalism and the appropriate purview of the power of the State. We eventually went to Royal Oak, my attitude was reportedly "fuck those hipsters." The self-loathing is getting more pronounced, you see.
Conclusion: I puked on Wes and Jeremy's futon. Testiment to my social network that I lived through the night and lost only my bike lock and a jacket (jacket might be at the bar, I'll drop by and check). Apologies to the girls I called at 3 in the morning; hope I was civil at least. Don't really remember. Mega apologies to Wes for the untimely return of the artichoke dip.
I've got to do a little adjusting here, let things settle down, learn to play again. My first day back I was skeptical. I'm still not convinced, but I'm remembering why I like living here. Everyone is beautiful. Everyone ambitious. Gentrification gets me down, but it's not something I can control. Yet.
Anyway, this week I get a haircut and a sublet. We'll see how it works out.