Ah, Valentine’s Day. I wish love were less complicated. Relationships are intense and convoluted for me, a network of sturdy vines. Instead of love, let me talk about how much…
I want a bender this weekend. Benders can be planned or spontaneous. For spontaneous benders, the night slowly slips out of grasp and I wake up hungover with clothes thrown on the floor and the kitchen a mess. How did two drinks become eight? How did going out for an hour turn into pedaling home as the sky lightens over San Francisco? What happened in the fuzzy period of the small hours?
Planned benders, I schedule. Tonight, there’s an epic party in the Catacombs just off dodgy 6th and Mission Streets. Although the club by law stops serving alcohol at 2am, the event runs until 6am when bars reopen.
Sunday night of this three-day Presidents’ weekend, I attend the Honey Soundsystem dance party at Mighty Club. I also am the lighting guy for this event, so I may be bleary Sunday afternoon packing six Triangles on top of my car, hauling them to Mighty, and rigging them up into the rafters. Let’s hope club Mighty has good ceiling anchors and a mighty-fine ladder.
Last Monday’s interview signaled the shortness of my remaining free time. Although I have yet to receive the company’s follow-up problem set, still I may be working by the end of the month. In the meantime, I’d like a bender from many long consecutive weeks working, except I don’t have a job.