Best mood I've been in in a long time

I'm feeling pretty damn good today. There are stories to tell, pictures to paint and draw, and drinking and merriment to be had.

I was bad

How could I resist?

Brenda and I went to the pub, as usual. Morgan was there as well and shared a few Guinness with us. Brenda, who met Suzanne on her first visit here back in 1990, brought up the subject of the e-mail she sent me. That's kind of funny in an evil sort of way because Morgan is one of the only people that is still friends with both Dianna and I, so the vindictive part of me that still gets a kick out of thumbing my nose at the bull-dyke is pleased that it will get back to her. Like I said in the caption for the old painting I posted a while back, Suzanne represents a long story. I may be inclined to explain it at some point, but not right now.

The pub was crawling with Indy yahoos and was way too noisy. We decided to bail early and come next week we're going to find a quieter pub. As I feared, now that the bus strike is over the yahoo quotient has increased dramatically. Next week we're going to give the Old Bailiff a try. It has the interesting distinction of being completely underground.

After leaving the pub we wandered across the street to Fleuvogs. Yes. I was looking at shoes two days in a row. I actually had a pair of my last-time-they-were-in-fashon über-pointy 'Vogs on and the sales chick (who has been there forever) commented on them. "Are those the genuine article?" she asked. "Absolutely, " I replied. She then informed me that the fall line will feature some all new potential-murder-weapon pointy shoes. I can't wait. I love my winkle-pickers. Brenda saw some stuff she liked but exercised restraint. We then crossed back to poke around in Golden Age. Then up the street to Cheap Thrills. That's were I was bad.

I meant to just get a few tins of Penguins to help survive my cubicle time and ended up blowing $90 on the shirt illustrated here. For obvious reasons I couldn't resist, since I host the Sin City website and all . I think I could get away with this shirt on casual Fridays at work. So far my other tame club clothes haven't been a problem.

And now back to Suzanne for a moment.

I e-mailed her back last night and am still waiting for a reply. In twelve years I've never quite figured out her motives, nor my own in regards to her. She is invariably the catalyst for exquisite disaster whenever she decides to wander into my life. I hope she writes back soon. I've been bored. It wasn't until talking to Elisabeth about her today that I began to clue in to what Suzanne is to me. She's no mere acquaintance, not a friend, nor a lover. She's a competitor, a catalyst... a muse. Something about her feeds the Bohemian in me. Corresponding with her fuels a creative urge in me that only smoulders when she isn't in my life. I have no idea what to call that. I've mistaken it for love, hate, friendship, and misery at different times.

The first line of her e-mail was "Is this poking disaster in the eye with a stick?". It always has been, but I've always walked out of them further ahead than I would have been without them. After hitting "send" on my reply I had the peculiar sense of horror that comes with a resolution to do something terrifying and brilliant - like deciding one day in Pamplona to revive the ancient Minoan art of bull-vaulting...