4:30am at the Grind

We should have had it made. Conversation-mania. Alden was writing, I was sewing. Crayons and my morbid drawings scattered across the table. We should have been nearly magnetic to other interesting people; in fact, I think we were, but we were still too scared to do anything about it. Break ice. There was a girl sitting across the room, looking intermittently at us. We looked at her and devised various plans to start a conversation.

Late night Grind quotes:

"I was just thinking about the nothingness of the void."
-Crazy guy, while ordering food and tipping profusely.

"So... Alden is writing a novel. What do you do, just distract him?"
-Chuck, to me.

"I have my own art. I'm sewing."
-Me

I sewed my big Neurosis back patch onto my green jacket. It was tedious as fuck and it feels good to get that project out of my way. Alden let me use his scone as a pin cushion. Kind of. He wrote, of course.
At 8pm yesterday we went to a somewhat guerrilla concert at the Main/23rd carwash. The band was the Unicorns and they played well. I felt anti-social.

Alden met up with a girl named Car-a or something weird. I still felt anti-social and they ignored me. (In my mind, for the most part.)

I had to resort to lunges to keep my legs alive.

And as thoughts cease to run through my mind...