Not much satisfies me like a freshly mopped floor

Hello, my lovelies. I've been feelin' a tad antisocial of late, too antisocial even for blogging. Only people on my regular schedule have been seeing me at all, it feels like. I tried to break out of my misanthropic shell on Saturday night, invited out by a friend, J the V, to go see a show. Arrived at the club, knowing I'd beat his ever-late ass there, ordered a gimlet (the Corral Room makes a pretty fine gimlet, incidentally) and began to chat with some random dude because why not is why. Thirty seconds later I looked up to observe the arrival of the last person on earth I care to ever see again.

"Of [all the nights in] all the gin joints in all the ports in all the world, [he] had to come walking into mine".

Okay, okay, I had to butcher that quote to make it fit, but the sentiment was right. I mean, I've been avoiding shows for months now in anticipation of this unlucky coincidence - what were the odds on a show that wasn't even advertised? I had every right to stay there. I paid the cover. I got there first. But I went to the patio outside, drained my double gin and fled to el señor B's, where an odd movie, a tasty beer and some surly company raised my spirits a bit. I wasn't going to enjoy myself at the show after that anyway.

I've been out to the crags every weekend for the last 6 weeks. Have hit up all the major bluffs at DLSP, been to the Dodge, Nekkiduh and even an out-of-town gym this summer. I can't believe I wasted last summer being all "depressed" and shit and hardly climbing at all. This coming weekend, D is taking me bouldering somewhere 'round Wausau. Me and a bunch of burly freakin' boulderers. I shall try not to shame myself - it's been a while since I bouldered out-of-doors and it'll mess with your head. Here is a picture of me looking all sorts of burly on one of my new projects. This climb (Coup d'Etat, 5.11b) is a filthy little footless finger crack that kicked my butt royally. It was brilliant.