Olaf (tm2jetfire) wrote,
Olaf
tm2jetfire

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some people want to use you, some people want to be used by you

Yesterday I went to the city with Kristi and Diesel. We got lost and drunk and it was the most fun I've had this summer. She won tickets to a comedy club, which turned out to be a good show. There were five acts, the first two were just ok (women being obnoxious and horny). The third guy was late coming out, and I said "probably finishing up some lines" and I sure was right. He was wiping his nose and even made a few jokes about coke. He was either my favorite of the night or second favorite. Next was an old, self-deprecating Jewish guy. "As I like to put it, my first wife died and my second wife wouldn't." He was my other favorite. Then there was a black guy and maybe another act before him, but I was a little tight at this point so I don't remember clearly.

Afterward, we stumbled around for a while and took a taxi to Utsav, the lovely red place I went to last summer. But, they were closed for a private party and some helpful Hindu loiterers directed us to another place a few blocks away called Shaan. It was blue and white, and had a different atmosphere than Utsav but equally classy. And they had a sitar player. We got there with only 15 minutes til the kitchen closed, so actually the atmosphere was a little off because we were practically the last people left at the end of the night. The food was blissful, we got samosas and fried spinach, Kristi had potatoes and eggplant, and I had shrimp in coconut sauce with curry leaves. Because I am in love with the coconut. It made me close my eyes and sway back and forth and I approached some kind of nirvana comprised from spicy food and sitar music and intoxication.

We didn't find time for much shopping, but I saw a brilliant Hawaiian shirt in a shop window at the start of our adventure which I think is the best addition to my collection so far:
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One embarrassing, and now I discover mildly tragic thing happened as a result of my boozing. At the end of the night in the restaurant, after I spiked my water, I left the cap on my water bottle undone and it soaked my bag. Luckily it didn't fuck up my camera, I would have cried. I thought the worst thing was that I reeked of rubbing alcohol the rest of the night, and that an indiscriminate cigarette butt might have set me on fire, but it turns out it washed away the ink in my notebook that I've been keeping for a year or so. Kristi got to read it earlier in the day, so at least I shared it with someone. And now it's more abstract, with dangling sentences and eroded paragraphs. And it can be looked at in a sort of poignant light, I suppose, what with all things being transient etc. Kristi's aversion to being photographed makes me think of that, too. And Gendou Ikari:

Shinji: "My mother is resting here? I don't really believe that. I don't even remember her face."
Gendou: "Man survives by forgetting his memories, but there are some things a man should never forget. Yui taught me about the irreplaceable things. I come here to confirm that."
S: "You have no pictures of her?"
G: "There are none. This grave is just a decoration too. There's no corpse."
S: "So, my teacher was right. You threw them away."
G: "I keep everything in my heart. That is enough."

Thank you again for inviting me, Kristi. You are beloved.
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