Here's a detail shot of my new tattoo because, well cause I just like it damn it and want to show it off a bit.
I'm having a hungover Sunday, which I actualy kind of enjoy if I don't have anything to do. I was out at an after-hours bar last night--in Chicago most bars close at 2am (3 on Saturdays), but a couple have "late" licenses and stay open until 4/5. Usualy the late bars are fairly sleazy (not necessarily a bad thing) and raise their prices after 2am (decidedly a bad thing). Ran into my sister and her Irish bricklayer fiancee, which was swell. However, I try to remember that after closing a normal bar, visits to late night bars generally operate under a law of diminishing returns--by 2 or 3am you've generally had 90% of the fun you're going to get that evening and extending the night results in extreme drunkenness with a minimal return on enjoyment. Of course, every once in a while you have the exceptional night of riotous fun that simply cannot stop until dawn. It's the memory of those joyous exceptions that propel me to mope around the late-night bars, scraping up the bitter dregs of the evening's entertainment.
I'm having a hungover Sunday, which I actualy kind of enjoy if I don't have anything to do. I was out at an after-hours bar last night--in Chicago most bars close at 2am (3 on Saturdays), but a couple have "late" licenses and stay open until 4/5. Usualy the late bars are fairly sleazy (not necessarily a bad thing) and raise their prices after 2am (decidedly a bad thing). Ran into my sister and her Irish bricklayer fiancee, which was swell. However, I try to remember that after closing a normal bar, visits to late night bars generally operate under a law of diminishing returns--by 2 or 3am you've generally had 90% of the fun you're going to get that evening and extending the night results in extreme drunkenness with a minimal return on enjoyment. Of course, every once in a while you have the exceptional night of riotous fun that simply cannot stop until dawn. It's the memory of those joyous exceptions that propel me to mope around the late-night bars, scraping up the bitter dregs of the evening's entertainment.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
dollface:
uh, when i first read that, i thought you were talking about people in costumes.
obelisk:
Yeah, the elephants were real--although a parade of people in elephant outfits at night on a deserted industrial sidestreet might have been just as wierd. As it was, I felt like I was in a moment from a Denis Johnson story (except for not being all strung out) where some extrordinary event rolls past you and you can't quite decide if it's real or not. I guanantee it would have captured even your attention.