Last night after work I met up with my friend who’s in town to play a gig. We had some drinks and ate and then headed to the venue, down on Bowery called R-Bar. The inside was a little tacky– some kind of burlesque-themed dive-y joint with a separate music venue. There were stripper poles around and the walls were red leather. Sort of gross, but since my friend was playing there, it was immediately cool, too.

I grew up with this guy, out in the wood of New Hampshire. We met in second grade, and stayed pretty close since. Seeing him perform in NYC was a nice, special experience.

The band that went on before his was not good, and especially by contrast. His band is super tight. It’s not really my kind of music, but I enjoyed it last night. Good guitar tone, spurts of good creativity here and there. It’s a three piece band called Hug the Dog. It’s rock with some funk, all original songs. The song “Friday night” is fantastic.

If my writing is awful, it’s because I’m severely hung over. We got home at 3:30a. The girl I invited to the show came home, too. She’s in my room now, 1:30p, still sleeping. I just went to Dunkin’s for coffee. My friend is on the couch listening to a recording of the gig last night. His wife is in the kitchen making some sort of really spicy noodle dish for us. She brought her own chili peppers from NH.

His band plays there again tonight and I will go, but I will not drink much or stay out. I have to go to work tomorrow morning.

I have no idea what I’m going to do about the girl situation. No use hiding anything or pretending that what happened last night didn’t happen. I think we didn’t sleep until close to 6a. I emerged around noon. My friend and his wife had been up for hours and even went to the supermarket.

I wonder how many hundreds of dollars I spent last night on drinks for people.

I wonder what the fuck I’m doing with and to myself lately. Do I have a latent desire for trouble? Because what I let happen last night has the potential to be an absolute hornet’s nest in my life.