Last night was weird.
Picked up the ladyfriend and spent fifteen minutes looking for a parking spot. Got out, walked a block and got a text notifying us we were going to the wrong place. Back to the car, down the highway, pick up the funzies, and hitting downtown again but from a different angle to avoid parking. Met up with and old good friend at a shady bar for a non-existent Passion Pit (Don’t ask, I didn’t pick it) show. Ran into my ex who was tripping in the club…with her dad. Walked across downtown in the freezing cold only to find our destination wasn’t an option. Went into a nearby bar because we had walked so far and quickly realized we were witnessing the drunken, sweaty aftermath of a neo-industrial metal show with what appeared to be the entire Goth community of Austin. Not something I’m entirely opposed to…in theory. In practice it was pretty terrible and we quickly left to return to the Passion Pit show, hoping that they would at least play because up until this point there was no real indication that the band (DJs? Dude? Whatever) was even there. Turns out no they hadn’t played but people were preparing to leave for the after party. The after party for a concert at a shady club with thirty people in it where the band never played. I thought it was a joke. So back out into the cold night, across the bridge, and to breakfast taco-land. Drank coffee and had tacos while everybody at the table tried to maintain their cools, a task proving much more difficult for some than others. Back home in time to pass out, close my eyes for what must have been thirty seconds and wake up fifteen minutes from my work shift. I should mention that somewhere in all of that was a 21st birthday celebration, a veritable cornucopia of narcotics, and a woman with balloon-butterfly wings. It wasn’t like Hangover shenanigans, more like hinted surrealism that won’t just come out and show itself.
