We've all had bad weekends. You know it as well as I do...But then again perhaps you don't. This one might just take the proverbial cake. When it comes to figuring out just how cruddy things can get I think that a proper vent is in order for this weekend's shenanigans. Or to put it more simply, If I don't say something about this right now I may very well break down and have that 'good cry' that I've been meaning to have for the past year...So here's the re-cap, in an abridged as possible form:
In the previous post I identified myself as a career writer. However; as I failed to mention that my day job, in a bookstore,currently grants me a Wednesday/Thursday weekend, I think that is important to include this tidbit now.
Among the activities on the docket for this weekend (finish a short story, socialize, cook food, clean myself and the apartment) I had nor prior intention of ending up in an emergency room. Who does? Yet, nonetheless, this was the ultimate end of my mid-week-weekend.
It all started simply enough on Wednesday. For me this is a day for chilling-out, taking stock of life, and lately, watching either grade-A or grade-F movies. This particular day I was destined to borrow a copy of 'Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle' from a good friend from work who happens to live down the street. This was no problem, as I had never seen the film and had nothing else to do, and seemed like a capital way to waste an evening. Yet, while borrowing the dvd from this friend I was informed about a punk rock show in which two of her roommates would be performing. With the promise of an open bar and friends from work, I could easily mark socializing off of my list. Great. No Problem. Good people, good time; and all at the expense of picking up a crap movie. Awesome...or so one might think.
After picking up the movie, I stopped off at the local grocer, got some tea and supplies to make dinner (hence marking off another item on my list) and came home for a quiet evening of mindless 'enjoyment'. -- I forgot to mention that by this point the house was clean, and in turn marked off of the list as well. -- Minni-pizzas were made(deluxe: with fresh tomatoes, grated cheese& american, chopped garlic, ground oregano, ect...) a stoner movie was watched (apropos) and I was in bed before 2 a.m.
The following morning brought a good call for coffee, a big breakfast (as I am waaay broke yet left with a surplus of potatoes, eggs, and roommate bread) and contemplation of what to do before the big night out. This included a trip to the park, the previous blog post, a little light writing, and the mulling over of some submission opportunities for some of my other work. Once again good stuff, and a seemingly healthy way to spend a day...But then I had to push it too far.
Long and short: I invited a roomie to the show; she asked if I'd be in to riding bikes there; I (feeling vital) said yes; we had a great ride all the way. All the way there, that is.
Upon leaving the Trash Bar though, things seemed to take a decidedly different course.
Not 5 minutes away from the place was I bleeding, profusely, from the face.
Before leaving the house Corey ( another one of my roommates) told me plainly not to "do anything stupid". But alas, tonight saw New York City's most significant snow fall, and I saw a belly-full of tater-tots, pavement (not the band), an ER, and stitches in my forehead.
It is precisely 5 a.m. and George Washington's birthday. I Have already called out of work, and so begins a much unwelcome third day to my weekend.One thing keeps ringing in my mind though, and that's the "don't do anything stupid".
Maybe tomorrow I can finish that short story. And at least I'm getting to see the sunrise in a snow storm. But then again, perhaps it is time after all for that 'good cry'.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment