JP

Protection. Everyone need some every now and then. Now it is time for me to take some. There have been many subjects rolling around up here. I am not sure what to cover. Usually if I ramble like this long enough, something will come. I think I am just going to cover how awesome I am. Deal with it. This has come to me in the last couple of days. Whoa. I know this sounds pretty prickish and it is. But the thing is, I don’t remember this enough. Someone else knows this and will recognize. I am OK, and I am going to go ahead and believe that.

Ok, this never really happened:

Now that the dust has settled over the evening I must reiterate my (not) shame, (but that is the first word that comes to mind) for my behavior last night. That has obviously been recapped enough already today. This last bout of behavior brings me to wonder if there isn't something linking my actions to my words. I am sure there is something there, but am having trouble deciding which way this is working. Am I causing my behavior by thinking and writing about similar past behaviors or am I thinking and writing about similar past behaviors because something inside me feels a bout of such bubbling up from deep within my subconscious? This is of course an unanswerable question. I would love to be decisive here but as I was mentioning earlier, this is not a sound byte. My more rational self tells me that both are true.
This is an interesting development for me. I have always been aware that if I could recognize the behaviors that lead to the outbursts, I could stop them. That had been the struggle all along. My uncontrollable temper tantrums had always come with many warning signs, I was just never able to recognize them. I had always allowed them to simmer up inside until my top blew.
This is of course, not what happened. I didn’t have one ounce of anger inside me last night. In fact, I was blissfully dancing all the way till the end.
Fair’s fair, right? Here is where I have the most trouble with pride. I have a serious hero complex, which must seem quite obvious by now. Whenever I get a chance to save the day, I love to jump in and save the day. But what I love at least as much is the praise that comes with it. Oh, this stings to admit, for a true hero, does what he does, and goes on his way. That has happened many times too, but due to their nature, they are not spoken of. Bla Bla. This is obviously one of the ancillary reasons that I would have loved to be an EMT. It combines heroism and martyrdom.
The night, reader’s digest edition:
Sushi was a disaster. We were stuck the moment E called me instead of L to tell me she was meeting us. Because she said, me and not us, I was then 100% obligated. I gave F the head’s up and he was already leery. The fine taco gentleman to my right clearly stated he was only ordering for 5 of us. The waiter disregarded completely. We were in trouble. RS bitch kept eating all of our food and I couldn’t justify eating one bite. Silent mutiny ensued. Two folks left to set up. Others refused to eat so they wouldn’t have to pay (me and you). I ordered tap water and ended up drinking $55 bottled water. I don’t believe in bottled water at fancy restaurants, it just isn’t prudent. Stress and continual smoke breaks transpired. One AJ shared an entire smoke at one point. Stress was on the rise. I put in $100 for the both of us, which ended up being about $20/bite. Seems reasonable. You asked me why we were doing this. I gave you a short rude answer. I shut you down. That was wrong. I am sure it was because I believed after last time that I couldn’t do anything about it. I failed to recognize that maybe you could have.
Off to the club. We get into the car, L in front of course. As you know, I prefer you there. She is a horrible side seat driver. Why did you go that way, you cannot go that way, turn, don’t turn. Wipers on. Please sit with me. After some driving around nonsense, we finally valet the Pontiac at the club. I am scrambled and had already been told that I was on the list but you two were not. That was all I was thinking when I walked into the door. Well, I didn’t recognize what’s her face standing there and had all of my money ready. I believe at this stage in my life, I can pay the 5 bucks and support the party. It was quite a surprise when she (name please) listed us all. Great, we’re in. Shots. I need a shot, what will it be? L: Jamison. So LA style, the guy asks us if we want coke backs. Yo, we are pros over here. Mine was so full I had to start drinking it before I picked it up. Got a beer to go with it and headed off to find friends. The first thing I saw was F posting up downstairs in the patio. We head. We talk for a while and I mention drugs. I didn’t want drugs, but what the heck. F had just procured some and handed it to me. I asked him what it was: ÇØ´. F cannot do Í∏´´Î he has a deviated septum. I feel obligated now and grab L’s keys and head to the bathroom. I take one look at what I have and realize it isn’t enough to share, put a little on a key and sniff it. I later told F I hadn’t done any, and essentially, for me, I hadn’t. Still a lie, but whatever. Never touched it again that night.
Tacos. We are starving. We head over to pinches tacos. You and I are same paging it again. Señor dude tells us what are his best tacos and (this was presumptuous) I ordered one of each of the two that sounded best for us. You nose pointed, so I figured it was ok, but I should have asked you. Maybe not, maybe it is nice for someone to just get you something that he thinks you will enjoy. You tell me. These tacos curled my toes and my mouth rejoiced in it’s own splendor. You had the brilliant idea of brining back the same to F. Unfortunately, it was too late, for reasons unknown. Still was the right move. You ended up saving a life with one taco, if not two. I picked up some Rick Springfield flyers. He was playing with the sounds of Uganda. Seems like a natural pair to me. More drinking and smoking and trash talking ensue. S’s friend calls me from within the club. I go and get a drink. On my way back, I recognize her. We chat for a while and she wants to go smoke. OK. We talk a bit more and I meet S’s best friend’s ex girlfriend. That was interesting. At this point, the are closing the patio. We split and head for our friends. By now, F is on and starting to rock it. F and I have this long standing thing. I have often been his muse for a set djing and we talked about that today. He was happy to have that synergy again that we shared so many nights before. My eyes were closed and I was rocking the floor hard. By now I am in a world of drunk. I am getting scotch’s and beers handed to me from all over the place. I cannot follow it anymore. I have to use the bathroom. The bathroom line is ridiculous and I pull a move that is seldom seen by anyone else. This is usually reserved for pretty girls and vip’s. I go to the back door and talk to the security guard. I tell him I really need to go and the bathroom line upstairs is prohibitively long. I promise him I am just going to use the bathroom and I won’t make any noise. Quite surprisingly, he let’s me through. As I walk down the steps, I hear his coworker ask him why he did that and he responded, he said he would be quite; he needs to use the bathroom. I quite clearly jedi mind tricked him.
Now we are really grooving on the floor. I am pogoing and screaming at the top of my lungs for F. You and I have now found a really good groove and are shaking our asses off. I go to get you a glass of water or something and a beer and to close my tab. When I return, we are there for about 36 seconds before I see the conflict. I bust through, without any thought. The guy starts yelling at me. I do not respond to any of that. I ask him: What are you here for? Are you here to have fun or to get in a fight with a chick? To have fun, of course. I shove L off of my back and tell him very directly that nothing good is going to come out of getting in a fight with a woman at a club and he should just move on. He did.
F’s set ended. I screamed one more a few times for old time’s sake. And we begin to get escorted out the door. F asks the woman he is with if I can come over. She says of course and tells me where to go. I go to gather you too. You both refuse. I call you both broken down old bitches and get the car. We start of for home. F is beside herself. I try and show how ridiculous it is to be so upset by popping the windshield a few times. We are now making a left off of Hollywood blvd. A short, well dressed man carrying a phone in his right hand had started to cross the street with intention, but the light was red for him. I was trying to go left. I took one look and it flashed on me. I rolled down the window and yelled “Get the fuck out of my way JEREMY PIVEN!” He did, he ran back to the curb.
We moved on. I again tried to get t focused on something else. I hit the windshield again. Urged her to try it. She did. I did it again and CRACK. Oh fuck, I fucking broke the windshield with my fist. She felt challenged at this point and hit it as hard as she could and put another crack in the thing. I look back at you and all I see is a pile with my jacket on top giggling and jiggling. It was so precious. Made the whole ordeal worth it. I lock up the tires entering the freeway and we ride back home fairly serenely, considering the music volume. I park the car and the both of you ask me where we are. We are 3 buildings from F’s place. I decide it is time to go topless. Yikes.


Difficult to detect and very subtle,
the mind seizes whatever it wants;
so let a wise one guard one's mind,
for a guarded mind brings happiness.