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1:01 a.m. - 2002-01-14
Merging back onto the freeway.
It has been five months or so since I last went out to the club with my friends. They have all been going steadily during my whole "down-time", but I honestly didn't miss it too much. I had a girlfriend and I enjoyed spending time with her at home or out just the two of us, so it rarely felt like I was giving up anything when I turned them down every weekend, or even when they stopped asking me.

Things are different now. I'm ready to rejoin my boys for late night liquor fueled no good, and Saturday I did just that.

We went to San Fiasco, a dancehall club that is thrown by one of my good friends. It is a monthly event during the winte and turns bi-weekly in the warmer part of the year. Nine of us arrived at the club and hit the bar. I recognized people who I hadn't seen since the last time I was out, and honestly it felt like I had never left.

I don't mean that in the figurative sense either, it really felt as if I had just gone outside for five or ten minutes and come back in on the same night that I was there last.

Hmmm. Don't exactly know how to feel about that, but IRregardless, I have come to the quick decision that I am not going to clubs anymore unless I have the express wish to dance.

I do like to get on the floor sometimes, and I plan to cut some rugs in the coming year, but on the nights when I just feel like socializing with my friends, or even meeting some new people, I plan to stay away from the spots that leave my ear drums ringing and my voice hoarse from yelling "WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DRINK!?!" at the person behind me fifteen times in a row followed by "WHAT?…WHAT?…WHAT?…"

Now I did indeed have fun, but a whole lot of the scene came rushing back to me in one swift wave. Beautiful women wearing revealing clothing--and scowls. Lot's of drinks--that were weak and expensive. Good music that had everybody jumping--including a three hundred pound Samoan dude on my toe.

Actually, toe in inaccurate, entire body is more like it. I was also reminded that there are a hell of a lot of enormous humans in this world, and that I am really not built to dance or walk or even see where the fuck I am when stuck in the middle of a group of them.

It was incredibly cool to see my whole crew together though. I missed those fools more than even thought. They are still the best, and I fit right back into my slot the same way I always have.

We left early which was good because shots were fired in the fucking parking lot after it closed. Ahhhh, the joys of being single.

Next Friday I am going to Donald Glaude's (sp?) CD release party which will be more conducive to shaking my ass, and will be partaking of something or other. That will be a rebirth in it's own right. Then on Sunday I will go to the company party and get drunk, but not drunk enough that Troy the 6'4" 200lbs bartender will try to "take me home and just put me on a shelf".

I have found out through Blueberry that the question of my sexuality is a hot topic at work. I plan to write an entire entry on that soon as it seems to be a recurring theme lately.

Anyway, I tell you about my weekend plans a full week in advance for no other reason than to celebrate the fact that I fucking have plans a week in advance again for a change.

That's almost reason enough to go out tomorrow night…


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