Loading ...Aches. Tremors. Grossly Hungover.
By Evan ~ December 13th, 2007. Filed under: daily life, photography.
Two days in a row of personal accounts? I’m so, so sorry.
Last night was something of an adventure. Originally I planned on sitting around with Rob and Phoebe, drowning my sorrows in an assortment of beers and bourbons. Ilya, on the other hand, was trying to convince us to attend a psychedelic band marathon at 3 Of Clubs. I wholeheartedly refused to accept his invitation. Somewhere along the line, after a beer and maybe three shots, I decided I was uncomfortable in my current attire. I slunk away to my bedroom, and decided to don an outfit that more accurately portrayed my mood. I returned downstairs looking like this:
When Phoebe arrived (Rob had left, the tired little guy), the two of them convinced me it would be incredible If I went to the rock show dressed in my current garb. I decided that if I was going to go, I needed to be drunker. A few more shots of Knob Creek and I was ready to go. A few more swigs of Knob Creek in the car on the way over, and I was in perfect harmony with the world. Of course, by the time we arrived at the club, I realized that in my rush to change clothes, I’d left my ID at home. Phoebe drove back to the house, we shared a few more shots or swigs of Knob Creek, and finally made it into the club.
And that’s where my memories end. I have scant flashes of various images or statements I made, but that’s about it. Sari slapping me in the face, a redhead inviting me into her jacket for swigs of hidden tequila. A guy named Papi. About half-a-dozen people asked me if I was in the band The Warlocks. I got to chat and befriend one of the dudes from Lightning Swords of Death (what a band!). I got hit on mercilessly by a woman who is quite literally old enough to be my mother. It was all rather tremendous.
And then I got home. And then I teetered and tottered my way through the house. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Somehow I got undressed and brushed me teeth and fell into bed. And when I awoke this morning, that’s when the horrendous pain, the hazy thoughts, the blurred vision, and the tremors began. Breakfast at Patra just made things worse. Awful. I need to take a break. But I’ve got plans tonight. So, maybe tomorrow…
January 15th, 2009 at 12:15 pm
[...] remember the first time he and I met — no, wait, I don’t. I was really drunk at a bar called 3 Of Clubs. Phoebe was standing outside having a cigarette and chatting with a guy and a girl. I stumbled into [...]