Note To Self: No More Drunken Blogging

This is getting to be a bad habit: waking up at 4 a.m., washing down two Advil with a bottle of Gatorade, and deleting my previous Daily Journal entry. Note to self: no more posting under the influence.

This much I will tell you…

I got my bonus yesterday, which was nice. Then The Man took 50%, which wasn’t nice. So I took a brief retail therapy lunch break and consumed the following:

I got a new celly, a Sony Ericson T616. It was case of pure gadget envy when I saw Lisa’s (the woman who did the Grammy Instant Fashion thingee with me). I think it looks sleek and kinda’ classy, all black and silver. Plus it has a camera, so now it has a photo of a glass of beer on it. Ha!

I also picked up another Air record, the soundtrack to ‘The Virgin Suicides.’ So far, though, it hasn’t displaced ‘Talkie Walkie’ which is in heavy rotation on WBEN — good chill out music.

So then Cockfight rehearsed. We may be performing sometime in April, so we have something of a goal. Which seems to have helped a bit. We have plenty of ideas, and even something of a sound — kinda’ Queens of the Stone Age meets the Go-Gos (Robert’ll hate that one) — but actually finishing songs and forming a set list has been slow going. But playing drums, blisters not withstanding, is a blast. It’s kinda’ amazing to me that I can play them at all, but I keep pretty good time and can slam out some not bad grooves. They’re certainly sufficient. And the whole slamming sticks into things is kinda’ theraputic.

But invariably playing drums leads me to behave like The Drummer. So I drink a forty, I yell a lot (not AT anyone, just at random), and generally behave like an idiot. Which is ok, I think, ‘cuz Robert and Abbey know me well enough to know that I’m NOT an idiot, but still. The Forty.

After rehearsal I walked downtown and had dinner at one of my favorite neighborhood sushi places, Aki. The proprietor is apparently the former chef for the Japanese embassy in Jamaica, so the sushi has, like, mango and jerk chicken in it. And it’s great.

I was very un-drummerly at the sushi place in my black corduroy sportcoat and v-neck sweater reading Esquire. But I did have two Kirins, which may well have contributed to the throbbing at the base of my skull.

So anyway, I walked home (listening to Jason Mraz’s ‘You & I Both’ on repeat — I’m such a cheeseball), blogged, went to bed, had some weird dreams, woke up and thought, ‘I’d better delete that entry.’ So…

Here I am, blinking through cloudy contact lenses, reframing my Thursday. Which frankly could use some reframing. Things look different at 4:58. Heck, they actually look better. I mean, if nothing else, the sun’ll be up in a few hours.

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