saturday night.

and i have made the rather weak decision to stay in. though you could argue (and i will) that it is actually strong of me to have a quiet and productive evening in, rather than a money and time frittering night out.

i already had one of those last night anyway. it started at the divey bar across the street from my office. this bar makes no sense - it's a dirty bar in a fancy neighborhood. though i suppose even tribecans like to slum it occasionally. some sort of work party was going on - and overweight women and old men shimmied in the back to hits like, 'jump around' by house of pain. we agreed that 'jump around' could now be categorized as the kind of song you'd hear at a wedding. how the badass have fallen.

after guinnesses and a collective sigh of relief that this rather horrific week was over, we headed up to my local, the tile bar. yes, i think i can officially call it my local now. or at least, my go-to. and go to it, i do. it's just such a...bar. if your alien friend were to ask you to take them to a 'bar' you could take them to tile bar, and they'd understand. it's not a sports bar. it's not a pub. it's just...a bar. it has a tiled floor, a warm glow, a long bar, and a jukebox with about 20 mediocre albums. i think i've heard the police every time i've been in there. unfortunately it's usually 'roxanne' and not the far superior 'so lonely'. but it's a comforting sort of place. and sometimes comfort is all you want with your beer.

so that was last night.

and tonight is headphones and a bottle of brooklyn and writing.

nothing weak about that.