Only, not exactly. In fact, not even close.
Wow. Last night I was very drunk on red wine and, according to eyewitnesses, I had a silly grin stapled to my face for hours, stuttered my way through the evening and continually found myself leaning against surfaces trying not to crumple to the floor in a heap. I woke up this morning and made myself some greasy eggs. Then I met Ilya, his brother and Z at an Indian restaurant (where I was greeted with, “wow, you’re eyes are looking puffy) to watch them eat. We decided to haul some equipment up to the Art Park and jam out in the pretty afternoon sunlight. It was a bit toasty warm outside (a cool 91 degrees) but we played about four hours of non-stop schlock n’ droll.
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