Laney and I did an extra "Happy Hour," of sorts, last night—we went to Vermillion, the "art gallery & bar that I happened to go to with Shobhit for an art exhibition on Monday last week. I thought the place was so cool, after I texted Laney about it she suggested we go, and just add an extra, third Happy Hour for March. Even though they don't have any official "Happy Hour," nor do they serve any food.

But! Just as Shobhit and I discovered last week, the well drinks might as well be on Happy Hour: they only cost $8. They also use all-local liquors for their well drinks, which both Laney and I thought was very cool. Last night I had two vodkas with pineapple juice, and with a $1 tip each time, I spent a total of $18. An unusually cheap Happy Hour, especially for one where we actually went out to a bar.

Also, the art was amazing. It was a totally different gallery this week, from a different artist. Laney and I talked about how cool it is that every time we come back, there will be new art. The gallery is in the front, so it's what you walk right into; there's a hallway to the back, where the bar is. There's some other art, not part of the rotating exhibitions, hung on the wall in that hallway, including a two-panel painting of a cityscape that I absolutely adore.

Diana, the owner, was there last night, as I had hoped she would be, although she wasn't working the bar this time—some other guy was. Her mother, Linda, who had apparently flown in from her home on Long Island, was also there. We learned that yesterday was Diana's birthday!

I wanted to ask how old she was but I never did. I did just find her LinkedIn page and see that she graduated with a Bachelor's Degree in 1990. Assuming she was 22 when that happened, then yesterday she would have turned 57. Laney told her that I had sent her the Capitol Hill Blog article about Vermillion's 10th anniversary in 2018, and she made a comment about how much older she's gotten even since then. I suppose she would have been 50 when that had been published.

Laney had gone over to chat with Diana and her mom at a small table they were sitting at, and they were both very friendly. Laney had initially misunderstood and thought Linda was the owner. This happened during an early exchange with a guy she saw who happened to be at Sam's Tavern just the other day when Laney and Jessica were there. Laney says Jessica chats with everyone when they go out, so they had chatted some with this guy there, and had a minor "small world" moment when they happened to be here at this other bar at the same time as well. He had gestured to Diana, I think, and Laney thought he was talking about Linda. But anyway it got cleared up.

I went over briefly while Laney was chatting with Diana, who told us there would be cake coming later. We weren't there long enough for cake, though; we left after being there about two hours.

We had different experiences in the men's room vs. the women's room. I had to go pee twice and commented both times about all the awesome, unusually positive graffiti all over the inside of the men's room toilet stall. Laney said there was nothing of the sort in the women's room, which was modately disappointing. In the men's toilet stall, someone had taped up a posted that says NARCAN SAVES LIVES, with instructions on how to use it. There was also a framed photo of adorable kittens in a basket of balls of yarn hung on the wall.

There was other hand written graffiti, like You Are Enough, and then Read That Again written under it. Someone else wrote a boxed sort of doodle that read EAT THE RICH. There was a bunch of other stuff I can't remember now.

— पांच हजार सात सौ अठहत्तर —

— पांच हजार सात सौ अठहत्तर —

Laney and I parted ways outside Vermillion, and I walked home in what was kind of shockingly cold. It was merely in the forties, but that special kind of Seattle wet-cold that cuts through you. I was glad to be home once I got there.

Shobhit had heated some beans with rice. I cut off some cheddar and nuked it with the beans and rice inside a couple of soft tortillas, making two small burritos for my dinner.

We watched an episode of Abbott Elementary. Shobhit thinks the show isn't as good as it used to be, and I disagree. I think the show remains excellent, arguably the best thing still on regular network television and probably has been so ever since it started. It's currently in its fourth season. I think this should could easily have the same kind of longevity as Modern Family, so long as it retains smart and talented writers.

I feel like maybe we also watched something else, but I can't remember what it was. Maybe we didn't. Sometimes I can't even remember for sure what I did last night. I can't remember everything! Today at work I couldn't even remember the simple phrase "ice breaker."

Should I be studied? My ego says yes! I'm making it easy enough for people. Who else writes in so much detail about their own life and cross-references all the events therein in so many ways? Too bad I'll never be remembered as any important historical figure. In the context of the universe, none of our lives mean anything at all. We only mean something to a select few other people. A couple dozen people might remember me fondly after I die, but a generation or two after that, all such memories will be forgotten. Good thing I have no reason to worry about that. Now is all that matters. Not that that means anything to whoever might be reading this by chance in any future beyond my lifespan. Will that even happen? Servers could go down and erase everything I've written here. You know what, I'm just writing to fill up space now. I need to get back to work.

— पांच हजार सात सौ अठहत्तर —

[posted 12:39pm]