I had a fourth date last night. I dressed nicely and we went to dinner, and somewhere in my head beneath the wine fumes, I’m going, “DUDE! A fourth date!” I think you’re supposed to stop counting after the third, I think technically then, it becomes dating, as opposed to whatever number date you’re on.
I had fun.
I think I’m going to stick to writing about whatever I feel like writing about, despite the many comments indicating I should do otherwise. So, I went to the Rolling Stone magazine launch at Hard Rock the other night. It was a very spur of the moment thing for us (me and two friends), I just looked up and asked one of them whether she’d be open to crashing a party. We were at Zenzi and it had been looking like just another night at Zenzi, not many people we knew, you know, not much cash, she had just recovered from the flu so she wasn’t drinking at all, and we felt like we wanted a change.
She nodded eagerly, we got into my car and got to Hard Rock where it was packed. Even outside. I had warned the ladies that there might not be a chance of us getting in but we decided to try our luck anyway. I got up to the people checking the guest list and said, “Hi, I’m eM? Press?” “Go right in,” she said, putting down her impressive looking walky-talky to write down my name, “Are these guys with you?” So all three of us breezed in and I have never seen Hard Rock so crowded. And really hot. I began to wish I was wearing shorts and a tank top.
But the line-up of bands was really good, I think everyone they featured in the first issue was playing. (The Indian guys, I mean). And I ran into lots of people I knew, so it was good times.
Post the Hard Rock, where I was beginning to wish I hadn’t got my car so I could drink freely, I went to get Kalyan from the airport. We dropped off my friend and then went to the Taj Landsend for pizza. It was that kind of evening, full of unplanned things, which is my favourite kind.
And then I woke up the next morning and realized I had lost a day. See, normally, I don’t go out on Sundays, but last Sunday I had been speaking at Kitab and then wound up bumming around town and then had a really, really random evening at Toto’s. So, I stayed home Monday, which completely fucked up my clock. Has that ever happened to you? Yesterday I wake up going lalalalaa, Wednesday, and then it turned out to be Thursday. It was most disorienting.
Gah. I really must stop going out so much. I think I should just stay home with my cat and a book.
I’ve been happy though, this last week, happy and contented, so I just thought I’d share, hold it down for a moment, pin it to a piece of paper and label it, so I can file it away under ‘Happy Weeks.’ There haven’t been that many, but now I think I’m actually beginning to get the hang of it.