Jans took Fiona in for shots today. He said that she, after two shots in the leg, and one in the arm, was inconsolable. It's odd that so many powerful words in our language, with the in-prefix, aren't used on their own. Or at least don't carry any power used alone.
Going to Lemons tonight to here Celia's big band, and seeing Jason, who has come in to Sqwires before, and Dwayne, who knows Jamie and that crowd, that working in a restaurant gives me an undeserved, inexplicable hipness that I don't think I would ever attain, especially dressed as I was, not even ironically wearing a v-neck sweater and short-sleeved shirt and jeans and old running shoes. It was apparent, at least to me, that I wear these clothes in real life, and while they may one day find their way to a thrift store, I in fact bought them new and wore them ragged. Maybe I look cool in a really unhip way, so much that I cross the Neil Diamond threshold - so hiply unhip that I am in fact ironically hip, in a post-post-modern way.
I saw a couple of women from yoga class, who definitely look hotter in yoga attire, even with the dark lights of the basement bar. Maybe it's the early morning glaze, or the mellow music wafting through the air, but virtually everyone in yoga at 7am looks like someone I would be, and am, happy to wake up with in the morning. Women I, as tonight, would otherwise need about three times as many Stags to find as elusively alluring as they do in yoga tights, saluting the sun.
1:27:08 AM 
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