February 20

Took a cab, twice, because I had spent too much time in a bar prior to an audio foley session. Midday. Refused to tip the cabbie his exorbitant demand of a $10 tip, because he was being an absolute cock whilst simultaneously being lost. It's DUMBO, for Christssake, not Throgg's Neck or East Flushing. It's not that hard to get to.

Wait, is that... is that a Middle Class Problem? I think it is. What does this mean?

Ate a meal with a girl who wasn't really that interesting. Learned that many Kosher restaurants offer sushi, regardless of cuisine, which is very interesting.

February 19

Didn't update the blog for... 13 days. The reason being, I've been too busy to make a lot of mistakes. It's mostly just "go go go don't think go go go", which doesn't leave me too much time to mull around and make a bunch of mistakes. However:

Failed to return a rented piece of gear on time. It's okay though, Ari's a friend, and he understood. Besides, it was a fucking director's chair, not a stack of Mighty Moles.

Was way too honest about my thoughts of a crazy goddamn play that was an interpretation of a Tennessee Williams flop. Don't get me wrong, it was... unique, but it had a bit too much crazy sound design, real and also fake dicks, and Theatre-capital-T elements for me to really get into it. Me, I like musicals; easy things. It's like being 5 and getting thrown into a lake by your father, something that definitely never happened to me ever.

Fell asleep on the Metro-North (no robbery this time) and ended up in Tuckahoe. What a horrible name.

February 7-8

Two shoots, no mistakes. No, really, they all went according to plan.

I fell asleep during True Grit. There. A mistake. Trivial.

February 4

The amount of whiskey that I can drink is profound and horrible. The decision to have Irish coffee at 6p is not the proudest or best I've had, but one would think it would at least keep one awake. Yet here I am, awake in the queer glow of morning, sporting a hangover.

I would like to write, while I am still productive, on the feeling of being drunk. I don't like the churning in my stomach and the uneasiness in my throat. Laying down feels like falling. It is the overwhelming shame that feels the best, the grousing, the holding of my brow, the pensive thoughts, the absolute seriousness of it. It is curious and awesome.

I did not make it out to Park Slope to see a friend's wife's solo show (a birthday show, no less), which I did intend to attend. Last time I made it slope-wise to the Slope it turned out badly, so maybe I dodged the mistake bullet there.

Last paragraph was littered with puns, sloppy writing.

All this, and above all, I forgot to call the girlfriend. She reads this blog and I am sorry and I will buy you something lovely. Maybe a delicious meal, for which I will be completely sober.

February 3

Ate five meals yesterday. Five.