Mr. Pink. Mr. Blonde.
Friday, got invited by Gavin to go to ALL of the Fine Dining Restaurants: Il Villagio Osteria, Q Roadhouse, Rendezvous Bistro…
Hendrick’s and Salumi, Chardonnay and Gnochi.
Budweiser and Tacos Al Pastor, Spaten and Shrimp & Grits.
Oysters and Champagne, Venison and Knob Creek Bourbon.
call the liver store, this one is pickled; need to trade it in.
Slim’s has material for the rest of the month.
golden apple. Grecian urn. playing Paris. feeling Keats.
Saturday, was planning on laying low. didn’t happen.
Mad Men party for Bravo! at the Pink Garter Theater.
the first time in Jackson that I can remember having a borderline legitimate excuse for wearing a suit.
Reservoir Dog’ed the Burke’s kitchen. fucking smooth. 5-pack walk-through.
Greatest Opening Scene Ever.
Scotch (waste) Manhattans and Cognac (waste) Sidecars with Beach Boys (waste) in the background.
birds. black and white. candles. good form.
clock struck twelve, headed out for Koshu. halfway there and got called back.
Dr. Schnoz was slappin’ faces. bunch of little shits outside the theater talking smack. Schnoz got punched up, bloody. Matty said it was gangster: sitting cross-legged, listening, then he popped all four in the mouth open-handed.
ran back, but wasn’t there in enough time to catch the squad, except for one; ‘who the hell are you..?’
had to wait to get into Koshu as a result. Ontko spinning. meh. good business in the corner. hard knocks on the floor.
train stopped back at RANCHOWYO. DJ Add Ben+2 on the iPhone.
The New Rules for the J-Hole Bachelor.
Rule #13 – Find more excuses to wear a suit.
Rule #14 – If you don’t understand Rule #13, get a fucking suit. black should do fine.
Rule #15 – If you don’t understand Rule #14, it’s too late.
win, winning, won: