Yeah, I went out last night after work and somehow decided that grabbing my roller skates while I was grabbing a sweatshirt was a totally rad idea. It was pretty fun, I don't usually fall or anything. A bystander told me I have super fly moves. If that isn't funny... Honestly, I think I am having way too much fun. I don't want to stop having fun, I think that would be very unlike me. I mean, come on, we've all been part of these crazy oddball drunken adventures. The cone-napping? (I still imagine BT saying "you mean there's been a CONE-NAPPING!" to the police officer checking out the perimeter... good thing we feigned ignorance and they didn't see our cone-a-lingus pictures).
I did, however, get scolded for making too much noise. I guess rollerskating across a large wooden floor in a large empty cavernous space with brick walls will echo into neighboring apartments.
But my God, it wasn't like I was the one singing "Levon" at the top of my lungs.
I guess I should enjoy the ride... some day I won't be enjoying it anymore, or I'll be leaving. Might as well just experience whatever there is to experience... I'd rather have lived and have stories I'm embarrassed to tell than to have never felt anything at all.
Also, I should NOT get into philosophical discussions about becoming famous authors with other friends... where we sit and talk about how we ahve this potential for greatness, we're going to acheive it, and everyone will have least expected it from us. This makes me send cryptic emails to one of my best friends in the world at ungodly hours that are answered with worry and the question "are you OK?"
I am OK. I just apparently think I'm Hunter S. Thompson Light or something. I wax more poetic about ridiculous situations than necessary.
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