Today did not go *at all* like I intended for it to go. That was somewhat good, somewhat bad. The somewhat bad part was that I intended to write several thousand words and didn't actually end up writing anything. But it wasn't all bad...I spent several productive hours brainstorming a plot element that requires significant planning, as well as thinking through the plot of the third book so that I don't screw it up with this one. That's all necessary stuff, but it doesn't make it any easier to wish that the writing would come more easily...
...but beyond that, today was good. I went to the cafe by nine and saw Hugo there (earlier than usual), so I hung out with him downstairs while working for a few hours. Then I left during a break in the drizzle to come home, write some emails, eat some leftover steak with fresh eggs, and take a nap (my life is hard). Eventually, I had to pry myself off the sofa and into the shower, which did a lot to cleanse my sins.
At that point, I was planning to meet Kathia for a writing date, followed by Jess's art|song salon, so I put on a cute dress, tights, and boots. However, Kathia was getting a tattoo redone, and it was taking a bit longer than she expected, so she said I should meet her there. This turned out to be totally awesome, but it lasted for five and a half fucking hours, which meant that I a) missed Jess's performance, and b) missed dinner, which was crucial. It was particularly crucial because, in something that seems totally verboten for tattoo artists, we were drinking wine and whisky from the bottle during the whole experience.
Wine and whisky together is always bad; wine and whisky on an empty stomach is worse. But I had an awesome time watching Kathia get tattooed, even though it took way way longer than it should have (see: breaks necessary for the tattoo artist to drink more whisky). Her husband Jerry was there, and at some point we somehow managed to pick up Jason and Steve, who happened across the tattoo guy drinking outside and decided to join us. Steve died at some point (and by that I mean he disappeared), but he was replaced by Eli (aka Steve 2.0). And a truly fantastic time was had by all -- the tattoo guy, despite his rather lax approach to sobriety, was hilarious (he proposed not-marriage to me, which I accepted), and he did some awesome (but still unfinished) work on Kathia's shoulder.
Eventually, though, we called it quits and went to Bell Tower for a v. late (post-ten p.m.) dinner, where Kathia and I both ordered the steaks we'd been dreaming of for hours. And then I came home, and now I'm intent on passing out in my own bed before the whisky and wine overtake me. Goodnight!
...but beyond that, today was good. I went to the cafe by nine and saw Hugo there (earlier than usual), so I hung out with him downstairs while working for a few hours. Then I left during a break in the drizzle to come home, write some emails, eat some leftover steak with fresh eggs, and take a nap (my life is hard). Eventually, I had to pry myself off the sofa and into the shower, which did a lot to cleanse my sins.
At that point, I was planning to meet Kathia for a writing date, followed by Jess's art|song salon, so I put on a cute dress, tights, and boots. However, Kathia was getting a tattoo redone, and it was taking a bit longer than she expected, so she said I should meet her there. This turned out to be totally awesome, but it lasted for five and a half fucking hours, which meant that I a) missed Jess's performance, and b) missed dinner, which was crucial. It was particularly crucial because, in something that seems totally verboten for tattoo artists, we were drinking wine and whisky from the bottle during the whole experience.
Wine and whisky together is always bad; wine and whisky on an empty stomach is worse. But I had an awesome time watching Kathia get tattooed, even though it took way way longer than it should have (see: breaks necessary for the tattoo artist to drink more whisky). Her husband Jerry was there, and at some point we somehow managed to pick up Jason and Steve, who happened across the tattoo guy drinking outside and decided to join us. Steve died at some point (and by that I mean he disappeared), but he was replaced by Eli (aka Steve 2.0). And a truly fantastic time was had by all -- the tattoo guy, despite his rather lax approach to sobriety, was hilarious (he proposed not-marriage to me, which I accepted), and he did some awesome (but still unfinished) work on Kathia's shoulder.
Eventually, though, we called it quits and went to Bell Tower for a v. late (post-ten p.m.) dinner, where Kathia and I both ordered the steaks we'd been dreaming of for hours. And then I came home, and now I'm intent on passing out in my own bed before the whisky and wine overtake me. Goodnight!
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