As Long As I'm Hellbound Anyway 2 April 1999

Jesus is dead. Let's party.

8:53 PM: Well that was pretty amazing, eh? I wonder if I could hire Lucy to take over on weekends. You realize, of course, that I have to get a red bathrobe now. Not a Star Trek one though. Lines must be drawn.

So! Mozilla.party, yes yes. As a party, I suppose it was OK. I'm not enough of a party type to rate one with confidence. There was a very San Francisco dance troupe band thing, with goth style singing and girls with weird hairdos, and they jumped around and juggled fire. It was neat if you were in a tolerant mood. Saw a few people I knew here and there, wandered around mostly, people watching, listening to the music.

I'd really quite forgotten what it was like to spend the evening drinking bourbon & cokes, though. Wheee. One forgets one's self, you see. Although I did catch a few glimpses in a mirror now and then, and it was quite a shock. Who the hell is that fat-faced old blond guy? But liberating, in a way, too. Because ... it was all a world that I used to want to fit into desperately, and now that it's really quite clearly out of reach, it feels easier to just watch it wander by. I only danced once before escaping, though. Thank god. What if someone I knew had seen me?

Then went over to another club that was having a night of 1980s music, ended up staying and dancing until 3. That was fun. Didn't even let on to anyone that I was a Serbian refugee, or the inventor of a terrible new disease that would kill us all, or any other drunken hallucination. Reality, what is that, it's a mixer, right? Yaii aii.

Which is why although yes it was fun, I still can't decide if I really want to go clubbing again tonight, or ever. That being known, being seen bit. Mmmm, ham sandwich. When in doubt, immediate oral gratification. Absolutely. Cigarette?

And I do want to see The Matrix dagnab it.

Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.

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