10.23.06

30 stories up, gazing at the city below, life twinkling in the darkness quite like its northern counterpart. I don't know where the high rises end and the stars begin. Burning, noisy electric twinkle, a million miles away. You can't hear it up here, it's deafeningly silent. Brian is dry heaving in the bathroom sink.

Maybe it was too many bells and whistles, endless miles of patterned carpet, too many people around that piano singing every classic song they knew. I practically exploded when I realized there was an upright bass being played.

He vomited into the bathroom sink every few hours from 2am to 8am. I drove us home at record speed. He felt much better when I got him home. He even had macaroni and cheese. He didn't want to go to the city tonight, but our tickets were already bought.

It took us an hour to get into New York. EZPass is fucked at the Holland Tunnel, we think they do it on purpose. Brox and I are singing along to the music but Brian is a ball of complaining rage. Take it easy.

Irving Plaza glows red like the inside of a traffic light. I want to steal all the gold and lavishly decorated table lamps. We missed Ignite, Brian was pissed about that. The Pennywise crowd is pure love. Tough love, but love nonetheless. Makes me wish the ska scene was more like it.

We found our way out of Manhattan pretty well. All good nights end with a cheesy gordita crunch in Brian's living room. I would complain about it being quarter to three on a Sunday, and the week is just beginning. But, honestly, I work so much that I have no sense of week "ends" or anything. This might be good cause the weeks just fly by.