Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator (ludickid) wrote,
Gun-totin', Chronic-smokin' Hearse Initiator
ludickid

I'm too stoned to give a full accounting

I went to Austin this weekend.

As you may know, my beloved first-generation iPod, Misty II, fatally deceased herself recently, and I got a new 80G number whose name is Ebony White. Endless fun has been had loading Ebony up with music – with double the capacity of my old iPod, I was able to import not only my old playlists (jazz, hip-hop, road music) but a bunch of other stuff (all my old-time radio shows, a big metal playlist, a classical playlist, and all of my Top Ten Albums of the Year from 1969-2006). And naturally, this means I want to take a lot of long road trips to get the most out of these. Happily, the I35 was accommodating in this regard, throwing a locked-up semi and a car fire at me to cause long, boring delays just perfect for iPod fun.

Once I arrived, arrangements were made to dine at Stubbs, home of great barbecue and easily confused waitstaff. oilyrags, scottvond and lauri8 joined me for desultory conversation, barbecued animal flesh and a discussion of the plausibility of Willie Nelson as a sinister, Noah-Cross-style biofuels tycoon. After this, I insisted on bowling, because I enjoy things that involve alcohol and fun. We went to a place in the middle of north nowhere, and a good time was had by all, especially Scott, who whipped us like he was trying to get the local Wheel of Pain franchise. After that: Flugtag! Tomatoes can’t fly, was the lesson I took away from that event.

If I took drugs, and if I had a drug-taking filter, this is where I would confess that I got hold of some shit this weekend that purt near made me lose my ever-tenuous grip on reality. Whether I just took too much, or whether there was something else in it besides weed, or whether, as Austin theorizes, I am a big pussy, that shit climbed right on top of me and didn’t get down for another 12-14 hours. There are many, many hours of Saturday night where I cannot really account for what I was saying, doing, hearing, or experiencing, and while I am assured that I didn’t murder anybody or wind up naked in a lake, I have only the word of others and my lack of a fresh police blotter in way of proof.

Thanks are due to: oilyrags for putting me up and giving me a lovely piece of art; so_crates, for a birthday present I didn’t receive for several weeks due to its arrival at an address no longer my own; and hipsterdetritus, for giving me something to look forward to next year. Next stop: Texas State Fair! In a goddamn month. Feh.


Oh, P.S.: There was a huge green alley ball we referred to as "Hulkball". It weighed about 50 pounds and the thumb hole was large enough to hold two adult male thumbs. I used it for several frames on the theory that its gargantuan size alone would be enough to cause a strike; it turned out that this theory was flawed.
Tags: diary, drunk
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