January 18, 2009

Kyle’s birthday at Mela’s. I’ve never eaten there that I haven’t thrown up violently afterward (not its fault, but the spice’s) and last night was no different, for I initiated the bathroom of a new (for me) bar around the corner, the Vault (which I like), and when I was finished I felt better, and drank my 7-Up and listened to the Pretenders and the conversations of my friends, and afterwards I convinced DJ (rather surprisingly) to accompany me to No Shame Theater, which was the worst it’s ever been, but still a crowd-pleaser, and everybody (me included) left laughing by the pale remembrance of the disintegrating moon. Casey was in one piece that was touching and rather lovely (that’s one out of fifteen), and Nathan’s song would have been brilliant had anybody heard it. Adam sells the piece he’s in no matter how awful. He like Liza Minnelli, but with brains. I was glad I went. I’m not even that tired, and woke when the light of the aquarium snapped on, a subtle signal if ever there was one.