The fifth day is killing my buzz, man.
I have all of these oppurtunities to go out and get crazy, but I never take them because I am still so sad about the boy. His away messages depress me.
I went out for a little bit tonight with Amber. She is crushing on this guy named Dante who plays in a local band and sometimes does acoustic sets at Donkey. She has a thing for him, but I am rather repulsed by him and the crowd he draws. He's one of those yuppie piano-playing singer/songwriters who wears polos and think they're deep. His crowd was much the same...if I never see an overly tan girl in a trucker hat again, I'll die happy.
The guy before him was pretty good. And Amber and I had fun nonetheless, despite my maudlin attitude. I feel bad, but I am making it my goal for next weekend to get totally fucked up and have a good time. My grace period for this depression is over.
On a happier note, I get to write a review for Rufus Wainwright's new cd, Release the Stars. I'm working on it hardcore. My past few articles have kind of sucked, so it will be nice to publish something well-written and concerning a topic I am uber-passionate about.
I am so hungry right now. Last night I ordered an awesome pizza (cheese and potatoes) and right now I am heating up some mac and cheese, but chinese food sounds especially good.
This summer I want to take a pilgrimage to Louisville, Kentucky to immerse myself in the place of Hunter S. Thompson's birth. I've really been feeling him lately.