lost saturday

Yesterday was pretty much a lost Saturday.

I did the thing where I got drunk by myself at my house and called pretty much everyone in my speed dial.  After I called 7 or 8 friends with no one answering, I started to get paranoid that I was on some sort of universal call block.  (The evil cyber police are trying to sabotage my life at key moments to stop me from leading the great slacker revolution).

I remember having this hazy conversation with Chris of Nuttank fame. (I remember he thought I should have called my band "fruit basket" back in the day.  And I guess he tookt he "nut" theme for himself).

But it was weird, suddenly I was talking to Chris of Nuttank, and I was trying to explain to him with very clumbsy lips and tongue about my next billboard project, the one where I co-star with Lucy Liu and Greedo.

I could tell I sounded tanked and semi-intelligible and he was listening to me with that kind of patient almost condescending way that you have to listen to drunk and retarded people. But there was really nothing I could do about it, so  I kept blathering on about me and Greedo and Lucy Liu.

Meanwhile, without meaning to, I was watching Pink Floyd on the Live 8 thing on tv.  This is kind of noteworthy since I'm a superhuge Pink Floyd fan and spent years and years brainwashing myself with their albums, listenig to almost nothing else. 

But for some reason, on this historic occasion with Roger Waters playing with the rest of the band for the first time in 15 years (since the Berlin Wall thing), I didn't bother to turn the sound up to listen to what they were playing. 

I just made a mental note that David Gilmore had become pretty fat and that his shaved head looked like a big sweaty potato.  I also noted that Roger Waters, who was kind of freakishly ugly as a young man, had acquired distinguished good looks as an older dude. 

Anyway, I talked to Chris from inside this innebriated fog for a while until he had to go and get on with his life.  We made vague promises to call each other when going out time rolled around, but neither of us did, as far as I remember.

By the time Rachel and Mariel came back from shopping, I was pretty much useless (unless you consider slouching on your front porch useful). 

Later that night, Goatbelt Matt called and I said that we should meet up at El Cap on 4th street.  He went down there and waited for us, but evidently I didn't have the wits or the resources to get overthere.

Every time I tried to go meet him, Rachel would say, "hey, we're waiting for the pizza man, remember?"

Obviously, I didn't remember, until just that moment.  Then I would be waiting for the pizza man very obsessive and impatiently, until I would just forget about him again.

Then I would say,

"Hey, we've got to go, Matt's waiting for us at El Cap!"

And then Rachel would say, "we're waiting for the pizza man, remember?"

"Oh yeah!" I would say, and start the whole process over.

Finally Matt called and said he was paying his tab.

"Hold on! We'll be right over," I said.  But we never left the house.

4:47:54 PM