To Go out...Or not go out.

I've really been putting in my time at the boxing gym.
I want to be a mean monster again.

And I also need to go see some shows. Bright Light is playing tonight, and I really want to see that. But I'm afraid that the presence of a bar will have disastrous consequences. I can't just sip on tomato juice all night.

I used to like real hoppy beers, IPA's and stouts. But I developed this habit before leaving on tour. I would remain in solitude. Put on a Jackie Chan or zombie movie, during which I consumed to 40 oz. Dos Equis. I would squeeze lime all over it and salt religiously before each sour beer salt gulp. I loved it.

It's beach season. My exercise frenzy might be a symptom of deeper self-revulsion. I just have had this feeling that spending time in L.A. and New York has made me a prick. And this Don't Try and Take My Guns stuff. Well, fuck. That's fucking awesome. Scratch that. I'm confused. To go out? Shall one?