Always Too Late

[thepnutgallery]

Chip texted in the morning. He'd had such a great time, he decided to swim with DSST instead of making the drive up to LA. I thought about going with him, but thought maybe going to the gym would be better. Didn't end up doing that, either. I did the dishes, gave myself a haircut, and listened to a couple podcasts. Abel's, in vain, hoping for the original he did, then a couple others trying to find new music for Ashley's CD. Podcasts seem to be universally awful. Really really bad. Chip and I went to Plumeria for lunch after practice. The flower cups were amazing. I like their mock meat, but I'm still finding just the right entree. It's mostly Thai food, so I guess it doesn't make much difference to my palate. Sitting in the car outside my place, Chip said what a wonderful time he'd had, and reiterated that I seem good. I said, again, that I was much better than I had been. Only then did he seem to notice the scab on my arm, even though I've long since stopped caring what length of shirt I wear. I told him about Big Eric, how that was likely a convenient situation for me, but since it was something I was tending towards anyway, I might as well put it to use. Like most people, he double-checked that it was Big Eric who started counseling and anti-depressants after that night.

I was supposed to go to # 1 on 5th for Matt Harding's goodbye party, but I laid down and even before falling asleep felt very heavy, as though I were medicated. I guess I was tired. I slept for 3 hours. I was supposed to get together with the nice, large Latin gent sometime between 4-5. At 5:35, he texted me that he wasn't going to make it. I could have gone out to Babycakes, or Mo's, or any number of other places and probably meet people. Nah. I got a text from Jason Johnson; he was going to Redwing at 8:30 for karaoke, and wanted me to join. Sure. I got a text from Greg, the kid who wanted to tag team me. He was randy, but thought he might be getting sick. I offered to make him soup. He was hesitant, but accepted. I've been short on tupperware for a while now, and it finally clicked in that that last gent I made soup for never returned it. I jerked off before making the trip to get soup. I didn't really feel like fucking a stranger. Bret hit me up as I was dropping the soup off. He'd gone to Bear Night, and was randy now. Well, fuck, on both counts.

Karaoke was more fun than I thought it was going to be. One of the guys there was good, but had a douche quality to him and his voice. Whiny, almost petulant. There was an overly coiffed black gentleman with an amazing falsetto, but not such a good regular voice. I opted against singing, though another girl there sang two of the songs I think I'll go for next time. The chubby Asian kid was a good singer; he sang "Unbreak My Heart," but went down on the hard part instead of soaring with it like FHA. Not hating; he still did a great job. Just saying. There was a nice girl named Gin (like the drink) there, who seemed quite smitten with me. Even asked me to dance. She says I remind her of Ryan Bingham, which is quite complimentary. Chase, Bill, et al showed up around 10. Their friend Joe is really quite a good vocalist. I'd like to hear him sing more. I wasn't terribly tired, and I was having a good time, but the anxiety of continuing to have a good time was getting to me, and it was past 11.

Checked online, listened to some music, went to bed around 12:30.

Comments

[npgmaverick.livejournal.com]

he sang "Unbreak My Heart," but went down on the hard part instead of soaring with it like FHA.

You're my favorite.