© 2010 lefron

Enough is Enough

# 1 Rule to this entry; Respect me and the end result of this post enough to watch this when & only when you’re done reading. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Cxc9h8o-KE

#2 Rule; Please don’t expect an epiphany–it’s 4 in the morning and I’m drunk. I merely still have thoughts–I am Lefron after all, and I, Have, Thoughts.

SCENE:

I’m watching Harold & Kumar Escape, I’m eating Cheez-Its (Cheddar Jack), and my sweatshirt is on backwards (aka the hood is covering my face so I can’t see.) It’s amazing what one night can do…I mean a whole night: It started at  6pm, when all I wanted to do was lay in my bed and watch endless movies to redeem my mood and livelihood. Then at 7pm (not too shortly after 6pm shall we note) it converted to the desire for my boss to leave work so I could simply escape a world where my mind was dead and my body was a lifeless object LITERALLY only there for the purpose of body-space. (Well, that was always my feeling from the hours of 5-7pm, where the office turned into a techno-blasting Willison-fest & Wesley tantrum hour.)

(CHEEZ-ITS). (ANDY FROM THE OFFICE–didn’t know he was in this movie, quite excited he is and gotta watch.)

Return: The evening cranked away and I managed to find my way home (only after I had to literally barter a gym membership with a negotiating fiend to which I had no interest in helping or selling to). I opened my front door to the sizzling sounds of steak and potatoes cooking on the stove and my mouth DROOLED knowing I’d finally get to eat some fucking food after the most retarded–not socially, excuse my politically incorrect verbiage–day ever (ok not ever, just of the week).

*This movie sucks, they’re all pussies. (Excuse me, I’m literally sitting on my couch digesting Harold, Cheez-Its, and this entry).

Potatoes. So good; they rejuvenated me and I motivated myself to venture to the loft, á la piano/guitar/workshop room. The only thing that had kept me going during the workday was that I’d printed out the sheet music to “Lean On Me” and penciled out the notes & chords for myself (again, because I’m retarded) so that I could teach it to myself on the piano later that/this evening. (CHEEZ-ITS). I made a minimal effort to learn the song & was luckily interrupted by my father and his guitar–an unbeatable nor featable combination–(ACID). We (attempted to jam) jammed for an hour or so, me mirroring his chords and singing with him in a way that was both slurredly correct and clashingly incongruous. (NEIL PATRICK HARRIS!!!) I’m sure we could make millions.

And then the evening “commenced.” A glass of vino, an episode of my GLEEkness, and a trip to Simon’s (the man/boy/child/infant I blame all my deformities on) caused an evening of dishonest choices that were in essence (HAROLD & CHEEZ) disharmful & innocent. (How am I still eating?) (I really like parentheses tonight.)

To conclude (or rather begin) I arrived in my living room at the end of the night feeling dissatisfied and distasteful; it was as though I’d drunken from someone else’s Martini Glass (*capitalized intentionally) and that someone was Madonna and she was on her way to murder my Like-A-Virgin-Ass. This movie (if you don’t know what movie I’m watching I swear to god I’ll bitch slap you AND your mother) SUCKS, my snack SUCKS, and my sweatshirt SUCKS BACKWARDS, but: I had a lot of fun tonight.

Sometimes I think so much/too much into things (or rather events/people/parties/what-have-you) that I convince myself if I haven’t found enlightenment through the activity it wasn’t worth my while. Obviously these events I recall granted me no humor or trust, because if I found myslef comfortable in these instances I wouldn’t have been trapped in my thoughts so much. So now, at the end of an evening where those thoughts never once (meaning only smidgingly) occurred, I wonder if it means the evening “taught me something.” Well no, Rachel, not everything will “teach you something” especially not a fucking Nigh-On -the-Town. What you should realize, though, is that you had fun tonight–I had fun tonight. No strings attached, no thoughts aside–I had a good time. Although the night resulted in no true wonder or Glory (ah wouldn’t have Glory been Glorious), I Had Fun.

I’d forgotten for so long that Fun, just Fun in every essence of the word, is essentially, Enough.

And yet I’m anal enough that I edited, spell checked, and revised this entry. Drunk.

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