Why Yes, It Is a Good Friday
I am wearing my latest favorite t-shirt: sky blue, a large diagram of a hydrogen atom on the front. It's the symbol etched on Dr. Manhattan's forehead in the Watchmen, a book that is to comics what the Stones were to pop music. I bought at the most amazing comic book store on earth last weekend: Forbidden Planet, near Union Square. Yes, I do have a girlfriend.
My best friend on Earth lives two buildings down from me. When we were in kindergarten I could read and write and he knew all the cuss words. At his direction, I wrote them in the dirt by the monkey bars. Together we were Prometheuses (whatever) of the playground. He and me and the woman who became his wife had a band together a few years ago. I'm getting ready to go over to their place now to talk trash and fill my flask.
My best friend in D.C. lives in my building. She keeps a tub of ice cream in the fridge and lets me barge in and eat it at eleven o'clock while we talk about our days, our jobs our loves, and why everybody's gotta be so stupid all the time.
My best friend from college always watches monkey-ass horror movies with me. We saw Night of the Living Dead together, Snakes on a Plane, House of 1000 Corpses, Exorcist, Creepshow, Videodrome, all that shit. She pretends to be a art-film snob and I always talk her into it. She has a great time.
So me and my three best friends and my new favorite clothes are gonna fill some flasks and go see 'Grindhouse' at midnight in Chinatown, a theater that may actually offer partial refunds if you are able to yell through the entire movie. At least, that how it seems sometimes.
I can't wait.