Coping

Man-o, this has been an intense summer.

Last night can be summed up briefly: Alan drags me into town with Nicky and Sammo to go to a jazz gig at a place we cant find for about an hour. We get there, the bar staff stare at us for a good minute or so while a sozzled patron serenades us charmingly with 'You Aint Nothin' But A Hound Dog'. We leave. We go to the Cathouse where nothing particularly interesting happens. Sammo leaves early on. While sitting outside Charcoal a less friendly drunk tries to kick my face in.

Why he wanted to do this is beyond me although I have my suspicions that it was tied to him being so drunk he could barely stand. This turned out to be to my advantage however as he ended up missing my eyes and mercifully skimming my neck. I doubt I'll having any more Saturday nights out in town for a while.

But most of all I'm worried about how I just sat there and let him wander off.

Here's hoping it was just the booze in me.

(Working all week except Tuesday and Wednesday so no nights out by the looks of things, with the possible exception of Mogwai on Thursday if I get a ticket.)