home is a fuzzy place to be

My one-day-late, psuedo-birthday party: at a bar that was all white, a white bar, white tables, white chairs, white walls. It was like the '70s or an Austin Powers movie. First, it was me and Fat Tony with one hour's worth of heated conversation on the issue of scientific modalities of understanding the world. That was pretty good.

Then came my friends from law school. That was not so great. I'm done with those law school people. They are mostly useless.

Fat Tony gave me a foldable chinese fan he won at a video arcade and a set of "Star Wars Flash Cards" he drew. Part of an inside joke, but just know, they were hilarious. (Law school friends gave me a bottle of wine. Thanks law school friends. That's so unique.)

Then, fortunately, the law school people went away (even Fat Tony went away, god bless him) but Hoot and Andree showed up and they carried the rest of the night. The oldest of my old Portland friends -- Hoot is growing his scraggly beard and has somewhere along the way acquired these black framed glasses and he now looks like Alan Ginsberg cerca 1956 or something. I love those guys.

We left the white bar and went to the White Eagle (minor irony -- everything was white tonight) where we had one last drink and something to eat. Ah food. I'm out of practice with this Going Out Drinking thing. I went slow, but still. Four drinks in four hours and I'm... well... a little drunk. But I'm home alive and things are good. And things are, really, you know, ready for bed.