I think my art post was covered up by the last entry, so I'm unsure anyone saw it. This is unfortunate. It can be found here.

At any rate, after the house showing, I worked on some compositions and loafed around like stale bread. The plan was to be Po's house by 7:30 and have a 'boys' night. I think I made it there around 8, there was a glorious assortment of dumplings and chicken and soup (and beer). There was a good group present; we had some laughs. I left around eleven.

Ryan texted me earlier in the day about a party, and that was where I went next. It was held by some folks I hadn't seen in a couple months, so I figured what the hell. I've not been genuinely excited about a party in a long time. When I arrived I was greeted by a porch-load of people, a keg, and Ryan, looking typically aloof. I found out later that this party was for his birthday! I entered the house after chatting a bit and I found myself with a glass of bourbon on the rocks and an admission that I had been was hiding for a while. It was nice to see these people.

The bourbon set the tone for the rest of the night.

I was warm and mingling, chatting it up about the subjective meanderings of modern art and old Ford pickups. Some art-history girl was championing minimalism from behind the keg for the artist's intended 'experience' and that it was designed to be personal. I believe I agree at some level, but I still think many artists create for themselves, and the experience of the viewer is a bonus. If you've ever happened across minimal art, often times the craftsmanship is to the level of making the effort of the artist invisible. This is of course is not a synopsis of any sort. The girl asked me if I was a maker; I said yes. And then I went back inside, laughing to myself a little.

Suddenly I was drunk, and the host offered up some weed. For some reason I accepted, not having touched it in a coon's age, and knowing full well what it would do to me. Hello, bourbon; hello, liberation. This led to me in a weary and catatonic state and cozy seat in the hallway looking at the floor. I've no clue what I was thinking about, but it was bizarre. Rin found me there and put me in her bed to sleep it off. She didn't seem to mind that my feet were dirty. I decided the floor was better.

So there I was, on the floor in a dark room listening to the distant sounds of party goers and wondering what kind of fun they were making of me. Then I was on the couch in the living room. How did this happen? It was foggy.

Jamie, I think texted me asking if she could call me then, so I said OK. So she did, and I was too incoherent and it was loud and she told me to call her back when I was elsewhere. The the room took off into space and I was dizzy. I got up, went outside and threw up on an oak tree.

I had chunks of my stomach lining in my mouth, but I was OK with that, I felt a little better. Physically, I felt better.

...to be continued, again.