weekend alluvion part ii

Saturday was a further exercise in useless time wasting mismanagement of precious people, namely me. After forcing myself back to sleep, restless i rose to the calling of a friend that had sold me out the evening prior to recover from his lack of sleep. He infused and conjured up various pathetic apologies and offered to make it up to me by buying me breakfast at any place i like.
Zazie is baby stroller, random-local-fucking-tourist, yuppy heaven. Located in the pert and bustling Cole Valley, Zazie always has the most crucial line. The wait is worth it most times, because the brunch in phenom. We stood outside, baked and shaky, from boulangerie du Cole Valley coffee, which is only second in my mind to Tartine bakery for baked goods and Blue Bottle for stimulants. I burned through my cup in less than five and I went to throw it in the trash. As i stood leaning against a mailbox an oddly dressed girl came strolling up yapping to someone on her phone about how the envelope she was sending them was the most beautiful envelope in the world. she sought verbal and visual approval from me and my friend.
"Isn't this the most beautiful envelope in the whole world?"
To which i replied, "You're the most beautiful envelope in the whole world."

She stayed on the phone blushing and giggling, giddy that i called her a beautiful piece of paper, looking back and posing. I got a good chuckle out of that and it kinda made my dick hard that i could simultaneously exude that confidence to make a girl blush and insult her. maybe i was getting somewhere with this whole "act". being a nice guy never got me anywhere but treated like shit and hurt and i have recent wounds to prove this.

Karl, another close friend, and his girlfriend Gillian both joined Nat and I for breakfast. Snaking his way in without having to wait nearly as long as us was Vince, a dj friend of Nat's that would surely steer the majority of the breakfast conversation to the world of the dj, i.e; records, promoters, other competing djs and clubs. I love Nat, he's a very dear friend and Vince is a good guy deep down, but listening to them talk about this shit is mad boring. i like it when the whole table can engage in the conversation. its a much more satisfying environment for everyone. instead, karl, gil and i are laughing while they talk shop. i don't let it get to me, but i do take note, another inconsideration, not with malice intended, but one none-the-less.

after breakfast we all split ways and i headed home to wait for company to join me at the bluegrass festival. though i have no desire to listen or take part in bluegrass music culture or the huddled masses that inevitably converge on such an event, i have to say that i'm impressed by their organization, and the fact that its free; it makes me sad that the people that enjoy indie rock, electroclash and rap can't organize such an event that would be free. given that most of my favorite bands would never play for free, promoters would never do something just for the fans and the city would never grant a permit to hear bands i actually like it will have to stay a pipe dream. nat and i met up, casually following this girl with a perfect ass into the festival then broke away hoping to find a smokey clime with a cold beer to wash it down. my complaint begins here; they weren't selling beer at this event! what the fuck? nat and i walked five blocks up to balboa and bought a twelve pack. we came back, finished the beer and listened to los lobos. listening to them made me crave a burrito and we made that happen. after we ate, nat was frantic about getting to some art show at stussy on haight. we tried hailing a cab to no avail. we ended up jogging, stomachs filled with beer and burritos, singing terrible songs about trees through the richmond district, the public haughtily bemused at our intoxication.

I went from my house to the mission for a birthday party for an aquaintance. I went back home after a couple beers and adequate supply of blank stares in my direction then headed downtown to go to some bourgeois club to let the temptation creep. I was saved by a good friend who abstains from all substances named Douggie Tats and his cousin Sasha. Doug's an inspiration. He doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, nothing. He's totally sober and he uses it to his advantage. Doug doesn't find the sloppiest girl in the bar and peel her, no, he finds the hottest one within reason and breaks her down a little at a time. Doug has what Harmony Korine might call a "marvelous persona".

The rest of the night i drank more, got real tired and then went home in a cab and sobbed into my hands because i'm alone.

a shit weekend, again.