Whoooooo! Karaoke Saturday, baby!
Yes, I’m a little bit drunk. Not drunk enough not to drive home, which means, not drunk enough not to check my email and yada yada yada. Which is why I went and got drunk to begin with. Lousy plan, I know. But I sang three good songs and tried out some of my new Sinatra for the first time. You never know what the music is going to sound like, sometimes is cheesy muzak.
So I think I pulled a major fuck-up. I hate not knowing. Do you pre-emptively apologize and hope you get credit for recognizing the fuck-up? But what if you only imagined the fuck-up… or it’s just a gaff and not a full-blown fuck-up? Is it worse to treat a gaff like a big fuck-up? I decided to get drunk to stop thinking about it. Unfortunately, without a designated driver, it’s not possible to get that drunk… only to get drunk enough not to worry about it anymore… but not so drunk as to stop thinking about it. Dammit.
I hate that my damn insecurities make me high-maintenance. But how the hell do you not be insecure about things you can’t know? Sure, sure… don’t worry about things you can’t control and all that. Easier said…
I saw Capote today, too. Good stuff. Powerful and sad. I wish it would have been about more than just In Cold Blood, but it’s better that way than 3 hours long.
I also met Laura for coffee at Borders. We walked around Chestnut Hill for awhile. We talked about houses, college, jobs, sinuses and a teensy bit about politics. In all, it was a very pleasant afternoon. We share insecurities–that’s really nice.
I spent way too much money on books.
Guess I’ll veg in front of the TV until I pass out.