Friday nights are so weird. I might be going out to some barn party to perform with a band, but I still don’t know if it’s actually happening, or where this magical barn place is, and I don’t really want to be stuck out somewhere in the boonies because if I want to split early, it will be on someone else’s watch(aka ride bumming is something that’s never quite sat with me).  The show I really wanted to go to I can’t attend because, well, let’s call it a conflict of interest. Perhaps I should just stay in for the night and pet Abacus and write. I really don’t want to stay in though–ugh, how frustrating. I want to perform, but the circumstance of said performance is haphazard and last minute and sketchy. I want to go to a show because The Dirty Faces kick ass, but I just don’t feel welcome. Is this what they call rock and a hard place?

it’s a left leg bruise party.