You must Maintain Your Charm/Same time Maintain your Halo

Well, here I am. At work.

Been here since 10. The thing that sucks is that I'm on call, so there's not actually anything for me to do. I've heard that on Saturdays the on-call usually ends about 5. Which is 7 hours of just sitting on my ass, staring at the screen.

Add to that my impressive headache and you've got one fine Saturday, kids.

Why the headache? Why do you think?

Daniel, Devon, Ian, Dru, Caleb and I went to this bar in Brooklyn that had free drinks for an hour. I think I had about 4 or 5 whiskey and cokes in that amount of time. Added to the few beers I had after work with my coworkers/friends Lee and Robert.

We smoked a joint and walked around Brooklyn. I went back with Dru to Flatplex because we were trying to convince Lucy (holy shit, remember Lucy?) and Ryan to come as well but just ended up splitting a cab and dropping them in the East Village.

We continue on, Dru and I. Like champs. I think he asked me if I wanted to make-out in the car. I'm a little fuzzy on the details of that discussion. But I didn't make-out with him. Chances are it was a drunken suggestion (as most things in my life are) and passed away just as quickly.

I told Dru that all my friends outside of them think I should not hang out with them anymore because of the weird sexual politics I find myself. Dru was very sweet and told me that he values me too much and wouldn't like that. Sometimes you just need a little reassurance. But it felt nice to know that they care.

Junebug comes home. We all smoke. I'm grilling Dru about the after-effects of his ex Karie hooking up with all his friends. I'm curious on a multitude of levels how women are viewed in this weird world I've gotten myself embroiled in. I forget that it might be awkward to discuss such things in front of Junebug. It never occurs to me what's appropriate or not. I am, if nothing else, a fairly straightforward person. So when I want to know something, I ask. Timing seems a bit moot.

I faded quickly. All that concentrated drinking tapped me out earlier than I was expecting of myself. One minute I'm upright, and the next it is the morning and I have to go into work. I'm curled up in the fetal position on the futon, and I suppose that's just the way it has to be. I know Sleazy came home at some point, since in the morning I find his crap sprawled about. I wonder if he finds it weird to come home to his ex-girlfriend passed out on his futon on a somewhat regular basisn. Well, actually, I'm very rarely on the futon. In fact, I think last night was the first night I spent the whole night on the futon without transferring to someone else's bed.

The morning in Flatplex is always my favorite part. No matter how debaucherous I get (and Lord, do I with these kids) I can never sleep in. I would never just sleep till 3 there. I always wake up, go to the living room and play on the computer, smoke a cigarette or two, maybe a bowl if it's there. And almost always have a beer, because hair of the dog ain't an idiom, it's a way of life for me. But I like Flatplex when it's quiet. All the drama is quiet and the boys are tucked safely away in their beds and I'm not anxious about anything. For once. This is my secret Flatplex ritual. I cannot think of a single time (barring times I was rushing out to work) that I haven't done it. And usually after an hour or so, I go back and join whoever I spent the night with or in this case, prepare to face the day.

I buck up and head into work. I finally put the pictures Marina gave me up at my desk. It solidifies that this is actually where I work, this is my desk, and these are my friends. A little unsettling to start to settle.

But the dust had to settle at some point. It had to. It has to. It will.