Exhausted, last night, a long week. Early (ish) night, home to change then go out.
Where to? Someplace we can sit and recover...
A***** and I, parking near 10th Ave and 2nd St SW, we'll do a pub crawl...
The first one, Backlot, upstairs, Lesbian bar resembling a good house party filled with girls. I'm thinking Gertrude Stein. Lesbians, every one, a very few attractive, midgets, BBW, the surprisingly straight looking ones, they're friendly enough, a beer here...
He hasn't taken his mushrooms, he's not as tolerant. I've taken a mere cap, but it was a good cap...
We give it up. He's not doing so well...
Walk down the street. Night Owl, $30.00 cover, fuck that. Next bar, HiFi club, $15.00 Cover, let's try this...
We'd done this before, on unsuccessful nights out, not a good night, tonight, we'll ride it out, it'll be different...
And it is...great DJ, Greazus & Sinisstarr, great bass, I'm loving it, feeling it...
Turn's out he still hasn't dropped his 'shroom. And clearly one wasn't enough, the music, the bass, it's eluding him...I recognize one of the Beano Barista's there, don't acknowledge her, not snobbery, only the understanding that we all want our moments of anonymity..
He's tolerant, rides it out, for the vast majority of the crowd it's a rave, for a few of the more rednecked Calgaryians it's an excuse to get extra-drunk...
Wrong meds, folks,...
I'm loving it, as are 80% of the crowd, but they're not buying drinks, they've other treats, I have too, only not with me, already dosed, could use some more, especially for A*****, who's not getting it at all, describes it as "The Inferno", a reference to Dante, the music impossible to dance to...still, everyone, on their medication of choice, is friendly, very friendly, and the music, the bass, it's filling the soul...
I compromise, halfway, 1:15 We go to the gay-bar, the music here, the women, however bad, he can understand...
Same-old Same-old, and from here, the late night Chinese, then home....
...The next day, later, recovering, the internal monologue silenced, quietly at Beano, the Barista from the night before is off, relief, I would have wondered how she could have done it...sitting, staring, drinking my morning coffee, and I meet "Howard", maybe 60, he sees me sitting quietly, contemplative, gathering myself together...
"Were you at Woordstock Man? !970?" Clearly I've been partying a little too hard, obviously hard, it's in my eyes...
"Janice Joplin...now wasn't she ...." and he nods, winks and gestures to indicate his 45 year old obsession....
I gotta stop partying so hard.