Saturday is this: woken up by the sun, manage to dodge that for a couple hours, get dressed and share brunch at the corner diner with the belle du mois after which she heads home. Return, sleepy from pancakes, work for a bit on a project with Zack, get burned out, decide I'm staying in and resting up. Reconsider. Decide I've got to go out to pay homage for Kristi's birthday. Get a little high and load up the iPod for the subway and subsequent walk through the East Village.

Listening to this John Henry song on the elevated part of the F-train is good. Logjam getting out because there's a Little Person (or midget, if you prefer) Woman making out with someone on the 2nd ave stairwell. Queens of the Stone Age kicks in, which is good for clopping through the Village. Old places I used to go.

Drink whiskey and eat fancy cheese at the bar with Jeremy, Wes, Alex and Laura while other people we know (and don't) trickle though. Will the Easter-European hostess let us into the back room? Something organized going on. Lots of guys, possibly in finance. A fratty feel. Attention paid to the Duke/UNC basketball game (UNC wins!). Yeah, we can go on back there, she supposes, and really there's plenty of room. A lot of couches. Some other random girls I knew from Tisch there -- Strokes concert afterparty -- with a friendly man with gigantic hands. Remembering a more innocent time; I used to have a crush. It gets too crowded, our party breaking up.

Around the bend and across the park to a place called Hop Devil, used to be Lucky Changs (trannie waitresses, let you drink underage sometimes) and Kristi's chef boy has unwrapped a Peking Duck. Tasty. It's about 1:30am, two hours later than I planned on staying out, but Jeremy wants to drink some Pabst, so there I am for a little bit longer. Blur my way home and fall asleep trying to watch an episode of Carnivale.