do the day as a series of bullet points

I was going to try something different and just do the day as a series of bullet points —

Being a “Crowned Prince” of astrology and humor, maybe a court jester would be a better term, or “clown prince,” has its drawbacks. By my estimation, the effect of the eclipse finally caught up with me — by the end of Thursday afternoon, I had irritated any and every available female within a quarter mile radius — maybe much further. [1200 miles, last estimate] Didn’t much matter what I said, it seemed my sarcastic comments were too close to the bone. My caustic asides ruffled a few too many feathers, and my apparently good attitude just caused further damage. I knew it was going to be a bad week. Maybe I should read my horoscope more often. Then, on the hike and bike trail, I passed, a woman wearing shorts and a halter top, trying to get her dog to behave, “Sit. Sit boy. Sit! SIT!” I couldn’t resist, “He’s male, we don’t mind very well.” “I had him neutered,” she replied. “There goes his brains,” a friend later reminded me. But I had high hopes for the rest of the day. Try as I might, I couldn’t ever work in a decent afternoon nap. Either the beeper or the cat prevented rest. As sun down approached, I caught a ride to Threadgill’s for the start of the evening’s fare: dinner and Don Walser’s voice (and band — “Pure Texas”). The fiddle player was wearing the nicest Hawaiian shirt, but some how, I wonder if that fit with the music. From there, I trucked on up to Little City Coffee (Coffee promotes confidence) and had a steaming cup of Cappuccino to promote my confidence. While I was making my way back towards Sixth Street, around 8th and Congress, in the deserted city at night, right in front of the Texas State Capital building, a lone skateboarder went through the flashing red lights, riding down one hill and up the next. I may have to consider a skateboard for transportation, it looked so easy and swift. I hooked it on over to the Bobalu’s to get a couple of cheap cigars for the evening. My first choice was a “Texas Draw” which was tasty, a perfect way to set the tone for the evening’s entertainment. But like everything else, the day just kept getting weirder and weirder. The band was supposed to come on at 10:30, but neither the band, nor the girl I was supposed to meet, showed up at the appointed time. Now, this is two weeks in a row when a Libra has offered to show up and not made it. Different people, but the same sun sign. While I was finishing off the first cigar, I struck up a conversation with the sound guy from Steamboat. An article in the local paper yesterday morning suggested that the place was going to be closing soon — put out of a great location by the landlord. Which is really a serious detriment to the local music scene because Steamboat is one of the few remaining rooms with that intimate feeling. “Pretty soon it will all be shot bars and …” suggested the sound guy, and he wasn’t happy. When the band finally started, of course, the evening finally had a good feeling to it. There are several songs off the band’s CD which are “worthy.” The strong vocals and the somewhat eclectic assortment of instruments still sets “Three Penny Opera” apart from the homogenized cover bands which are becoming increasingly familiar in the “live music capital of the world.” But I also remembered what the sound guy said when I asked about the fact that there weren’t as many small venues as before. “You’re romanticizing,” he said. There’s a lyric from one of 3PO’s songs, and that refrain has made me sad, two times now, “Somebody said she looks a bit like me.” Of course, it was different girls each night, but still. After the band’s set was over, as I was making my way home, back down Congress Avenue, I ran across another friend. He works at one of the multimedia mills, Human Code. Well past midnight, “Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of this lately.” He was just finishing up a smoke, and we shot the breeze in the magic of a summer night in Texas.