Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Holidays are all-too-helpful reminders of what you were doing on that exact day a year ago, two years ago, whatever. As far as last year, I went to the Falconer with Jen, didn't drink at all, and then took her drunk ass to get some food and then brought her back to the Falconer, all before 6pm. After which I went to Johnny's to study-- because we were in the early stages of cute little study dates where no real studying was accomplished. I was in the midst of writing a historical fiction story that I ended up not really working on until, oh, maybe a day before it was due.
Consequently, in conjunction with forcing you to rehash times gone by, holidays cause you to suss out where you are in terms of last year compared to the present. I have to say I've regressed. This day last year saw me much more optimistic, misguided though that optimism turned out to be. Today, this year, this St. Paddy's Day, I will be working till 10, then closing my bedroom door in a cat's face before watching Seinfeld to drown out the amplified sounds of a tiny cat body-slamming my door to be let in.
I just want some privacy, please. (I had an unexpected and unwelcome relapse tonight.)
This guy I saw at the Getty last week really deserves to be on the Sartorialist. He just doesn't have good fashion sense, but he knows how to wear it well. Unassuming and unpretentious, cultured and confident without seeming so. Blazer, purple cuffed pants, shades, and panache. I would like to be his friend, please.
(sorry, i'll work on the playlist today)