I dropped zlato a line in the afternoon, and he suggested the Globe cafe/bookstore for our hanging-out venue. He had some credit there, a reward for an mp3 party he’d hosted. He also had no money, so the venue was a pretty easy call.
I was on the metro when I got the text message: the Globe was closed. We met instead at a nice Gambrinus pub called Propaganda, just up the street. It was a pleasant evening; there’s always something interesting to talk about when zlato’s around, whether it’s the use of dashes and semicolons, books, flexibility of beliefs in the context of Shinto, or the female of the species. He loaned me a book, Hypnotic Language (though he hadn’t planned to), that I’m looking forward to reading.
I ended up staying out pretty late. Time just flew by, as they say. Propaganda is a congenial place. Friends of zlato came and went. zlato proffered quick in-bar massage to a couple of people (he’s trained for that stuff), and my muscles were jealous. The waiter is apparently studying the art, and some conversation ensued. It was a night of stuff like that.
The journey home was pleasant, a combination of tram and hoof; temperatures were solidly below freezing but that just felt right. The night tram had the right mix of people napping in their seats and others still hoping to find the next great place to party. Alas, no dogs in plaid.
Dude, that as one helluva good evening, for sure!
Tonight is New Year’s Eve and I’m wondering if I should gird my loins and go out into the urban wilds. Traditionally, I go to bed at 9:00pm o this holiday…
zlato, you will hear stories. Long, complicated stories of spilled champagne, arrogant Poles, and damaged doors. I type this with candle wax on my pants.
You got an iron? If not, I do. Takes the candle wax right out of fabric, no problem – I had to treat some jeans 4 months back after a night of revelry with the Revelator.