Friday Night #0221

Something's always happening, a band, a bar, a concert, a movie, a show, constant distractions that can make any social calendar overflow on most Friday nights. There's the beer, the drunken DOMs, the hot chicks gliding from open door to wet barstool in backless ensembles and strappy heels, the big red guitars, cute boys and laughing friends.

I like sitting in the dark, being pushed every which way by moving bodies and busy hands, my eardrums ringing from the live band's deep baseline and rockin' guitar riffs, feeling perfectly alone, and enjoying it.

I also like pleasant surprises, like reconnecting with a friend who you once thought had been the very definition of geek, with his multiply syllabic vocabulary, extensive knowledge of Shakespeare, and grade 500 glasses - then finding out that his family happens to own a hip bar just south of Julia Vargas, where youngsters come to drown their teenage angst in alcohol and extremely loud music on the weekends.

I like falling into bed, exhausted, after being on my high-heeled feet all day. Then I like to feel sleep, as it slowly possesses my limbs, then my lungs, then finally, my eyes. My whole body settles into semi-death, in intense anticipation of what dreams may come.