Post-Modern Drunk: Question for Anyone Who Remembers Friday
Please, if there's anyone out there who remembers what I did Friday night, please tell me.

I have bits and pieces of it, I swear, so you only need to fill in a gaping hole of a couple of hours.

I remember ending it by talking on the phone to someone, and apparently, according to my roommate, yelling at them and berating them quite a bit. He can't tell me what I was yelling about, though, so if this happened to be you, I'm sorry I was a belligerant drunk. I didn't mean whatever I said. I was probably just a bit out of sorts because I'd fallen asleep after getting on the wrong train, and wound up out near JFK getting passed over by obviously empty cabs. It didn't help that I forgot, halfway through hailing cabs, that I was obviously not anywhere near my apartment, and started walking east thinking I would find the bus stop I needed.

To the cabbie who picked me up, eventually. I'm not sure if I tipped you well. Sorry about that. You were very kind to transport me home, though.

If you happened to be by the dumpster I was peeing on, I'm sorry if I splashed on you. The bouncer at the Knitting Factory wouldn't let me back in to use the john, and I made do with what I had available.

That bouncer is on my shitlist, though, for having earlier walked me through the club and making sure that all the bartenders knew not to serve me. He was nice enough to let us into the club to see the band play, and I'm sure he would take some solace in the fact that I don't remember World/Inferno's set at all. He might be pissed that I managed to get one of the two bartenders to serve me three more drinks, though, so it all balances out in the end. I hope he forgets about me before the next time I go to Knitting Factory, though.

Pony, it was nice talking to you that evening--I don't remember what either of us talked about, but apparently the fact I was so animated in our conversation was what tipped the bouncer off that I might need to be cut off. I don't blame you at all, of course--the Jim Beam I drank was much more responsible for that than anything else.

If anyone has any receipts, pictures, or video, I would love a more accurate accounting as to where the $75 I had in my pocket went.

I'm told at one point we were walking down the street kicking car bumpers to see if we could get the car alarms to go off. This does not sound likely to me, as that happened last weekend, but if someone is getting their weeks confused, I forgive you.

To that girl at the Knitting Factory: I really did mean it--send me your mailing address and I'll make you a copy of every Mountain Goats album I own.

To the World/Inferno Friendship Society: I'm sorry I missed your set. I was really looking forward to it--I'll see you next time you're in town, I'm sure.

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