Another reason that my days and nights are so busy is simply that everything is so interesting. Last night I started at a sad sports bar drinking a beer and ended up half drunk and perched on a desk in a different part of town, working a delicate crumpled ball into a perfect sphere, surrounded by friends with another friend djing in the other room, being talked into having a birthday picnic.
In between was my favorite part, the part where I stood upstairs at a friend's gallery, drinking wine and sneaking sideways glances at my crush, and watched an Elvis impersonator sing to a chicken and read in between songs about dinosaurs. Elvis. Singing to a chicken. Reading about dinosaurs. It's like someone sat down and said, well, what would be the greatest thing in the world? It was like Christmas had come early. The best part was that it was a surprise even to my friends that had organized the event, who were merely expecting the man to come and play an acoustic set. It was like asking for a dollar and being given a planet.
If I happened to be the sort of girl that stayed in, I would have missed the Elvis and the wine and the camaraderie and the cute boy and the Elvis. And that would have been tragic.
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