03.06.06

A quiet night in the smoking room at the Holocene last night. It was nice to see DJ Mr. Romo. With crutches and cast, but out and about. He's planning a first Sunday of the month DJ, poet, video/filmmaker showcase. I like the idea.

Can I toot my own horn? Or perhaps, more aptly, I'm tooting my own horn--nyah, nyah, nyah. Deal.

This morning at stupid-o'clock, my co-worker came in. Turns out that a friend of his was at the last Bad Poetry Night. (Gads, Portland is eensy-meensy.) My co-worker told his friend that he works with the girl who won. His friend said that she loved me, that I had great stage presence, and was very entertaining.

*beam*

Ain't that sumpin'? Gosh and golly.

I'm planning a quiet evening at home. Three DVDs to watch; Bizarre, Hand of Death, and Sex: The Anabel Chong Story. Plus SM101 to read. I want to take it easy, tomorrow night's my tattoo appointment. A good night's sleep and a little food on the belly before I go will be a good thing.

Nervous? Yes, a bit. Hell, it's been seven years since my last tattoo. It's a decent-sized piece--not a full back, but it's going to go at least the length of my shoulder blade. I've already paid for half of it so...

Y'all go an' be fabulous.

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