Goddamn Banana Peels

The YMCA saved my life.

Its always an awkward thing, waking up in a relatively stranger's house, especially a stranger with roommates, who are awake and are standing between you and the bathroom.

Not wanting to be "that guy," though I had every right to. Duty calls in the morning. Its very serious business. But I opted out. And was Captain Clench walking down the streets of this town, a beautiful and bright, sunny Sunday afternoon.

And there, like a golden statue blazing in the sun, a beacon of hope, was the YMCA. Sweet relief.

...

She didn't show up for the burlesque show, which was probably for the best. Something was amiss that night anyway. The first two drinks I had sort of threw me off for some reason, and I found myself a little bit tipsy right from the start. Which didn't stop me from drinking more, but only ensured that I would do something stupid by the end of the night.

I felt foolish, standing there. So I sort of propositioned an old friend of mine. "I need a friend," I said. "Just sleep in my bed." And I meant it, though I think she took it the wrong way. I mean, we used to do that sort of thing. Just cuddling. Vows of not engaging in sex with each other. I figured it be ok, and I was feeling, reeling, in some sort of odd, emotional abyss.

So I went home. And got drunk dialed by another friend at four in the morning, which was sort of what I needed. Some sort of attention.

I don't know what's up with my emotional state these days. Something in me is screaming, I need fulfillment.

...

And last night. It was sweet. Staying up until 6:30 in the AM. Drinking steadily, I swear, her and I together together would probably be bad news, and end in AA. Like something from a Mountain Goats song off of Tallahassee.

But there we were, the sun fully risen, all of our bloodshot eyes, smoking cigarette after cigarette, talking about Battlestar Galactica, and playing Mario Kart drunkenly racing off the course.

I knew it wasn't going to end in a romantic happening. And I was ok with that. Though I was surprised, when I gave her the "I gots to go," line, and then she asked me to tuck her in, so sweetly. And then to sleep over. Which was good, because my tired ass didn't feel like huffing it all the way home.

But what a great night. A martini at the Cafe, watching the game, and then to a punk rock show at the punk rock house which always stirs the angry youth in me, watching my friend's hard core band. His birthday, a noise violation which everyone chipped in money so they could play three more songs. Three, one minute songs. Then to a bar for the Photo Booth, which I'm addicted to and will gladly shell out dollar bills for. And then to the The Bar, for shenanigans. And then she sent me the text, inviting me over for a night cap...

Pure magic.

And now I have to go to work. I'm going to zombie my way through this day, for sure.