magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

So it's been a tad over a month since I posted anything here. That month included my trip to the west coast, and a handful of stories that I feel as if I should tell. It includes, quite recently, my birthday, thirty-one, nothing special, other than the fact that it's a prime number.

Yesterday was Saturday, and I arrived back home from vaguely birthday-related activities (my "official" birthday party at KGB Bar on Friday night) at close to 4AM, and proceeded not to leave my house all day until after 3AM on Sunday to walk to the corner deli in the rain to buy a six-pack of beer and pack of cigs.

I hadn't smoked a cigarette in forever, I left my last pack in San Francisco, and waited nearly two weeks to use that as a joke, last night, and it didn't translate at all.

It was raining this morning (Saturday) (and on and off over the course of the day) and so brunch didn't happen. Chris tends not to get out of bed if it's raining, and also possibly needed to help Cora move, and for whatever it's worth, or says about me, a good percentage of my social life is predicated on Chris's connections with other people, and he's not exactly the most extroverted socialite himself.

I drank half a bottle of wine and then laid into what was left of my scotch, watching, primarily, the first season of Rescue Me which I downloaded off of the internet last week.

And when the Scotch was gone and the season was finished, about 3AM this morning, I walked to the corner store. Then stood out on my roof smoking and drinking a bottle of the aforementioned beer. And running through a list of who I could call. (No one in New York, it's after 3AM, maybe someone on the west coast, it's only a tad past midnight, or sending a text message to Italy where it's already morning on Sunday.) But ended up not actually reaching out to anyone. Even drunk I've got hang-ups about imposing upon people, maybe even moreso than when sober.

And so finished smoking and drinking. And came back inside. Presumably to bed.