Last night proved to be one more notch in the belt/bedpost/table leg for drunken insanity, something some of you may know a little bit about, and maybe the majority of you know nothing about. I wish I were part of the latter, but alas, my new best friend (Jameson) has made that impossible.
Joe and I set out to see Aqualung at the Bowery Ballroom, but I didn't actually get to see Aqualung, since I was warming my ass on a barstool, chatting up some British fellas that do something with music - I have no idea what that would be. I'm actually surprised I remember their names - of course, I know one of their names, but not both. Joe was occupied, don't fret. He was not without company. And, overall, in a cryptic end to this cryptic diary entry, maybe it's time to lay off the alcohol. Who am I kidding - as my roommate said to me when I stumbled in this morning at 10am: "You're not done! You're just beginning." God, if that's the way it is, I must have something truly absurd up my party-sleeve.