6:33 p.m. - 2002-04-28
Hung the fuck over.
The effort exerted to find myself in this state, hung the fuck over that is, was fantastic. It included Absolute and cranberry in proportion producing a mixture that remained clear, and some sort of odd shot containing many types of fruity spirits that came in a size making the idea of calling them shots logical only because I was under the influence of the Absolute and cranberry.
Many friends, Gabe and Jen the love birds, Kisha and Jackie the beautiful girls, and Miguel and A-dog the drunken knuckleheads. Plus our hero. We congregated at a hip-hop bar called Sacrifice and itís all a blur from there. I remember being involved in refereeing a wrestling match between strangers on the sidewalk, dancing like idiots to ďYouíre my InspirationĒ and some Hebrew music, Jen slapping the fuck out of me for fun and little else.
Thus it was great.
I am getting to the point where I wonder why I was tripping so hard over this thing. I know the answer, but when I just step the fuck back and realize what kind of relationships I have in my life, and what they are based on, and how I have never had any relationship end like this last one EVER, and how the exact opposite is the same on the other side of the fence, it just helps me to let it go. I didnít have the choice. It is not what I wanted, but I didnít have the choice. I am going to keep being who I always was, with a little more insight as to whom I should offer it to, and she will as well.
These two facts are independent of each other, and the results of them finally are too.