08-04-1998
Seattle, Home
 
We're heading to Portland tomorrow morning. It was Andy's birthday today, so we had a nice dinner in this Thai place on Broadway, then headed to Tim and Vick's for cigars. I've got a bunch of crap still left to do, and there was all that Goddamned cigar smoke, so I came home early.

I was talking to this guy the other night. We both subscribe to the same email list. I started telling him some interesting, pertinent story, and after a while he said, "I think you've told me this before...." And I'd posted the damn story to the discussion group. The whole thing seemed a little self-defeating, and I thought, oh shit, and here I am going on tour and writing this journal and everyone I talk to who gives a damn will have read every story with more detail than I could ever capture later on. I'm kind of fucking myself, because there's nothing better than telling a good story and nothing worse than someone interrupting you in the middle of it because you told it better the first time. But, you know, what the hell, I'm bound to find some lost soul who hasn't read all this garbage already. And this is all assuming I find some interesting stories to tell. That is not a sure thing.

Since nothing has happened yet, I'll leave it at that.


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