The second time I tried to give blood I passed out. Set the table a little bit more....I think I was 18 years old, newly graduated, and having a summer of concerts preparing to move to Eugene. I'd given blood once in high school and had been recruited to go to a Mormon church and let the life juices flow for the Red Cross. Oddly, I was out pretty quickly. They made me eat some cookies and gave me a sticker that said "I tried." I still proudly display that sticker on a guitar case even though it has seen better days. Today is one of those days where I need an "I tried" sticker to cheer myself up.
     I left work today stating that I was gonna go see "Hell" and was excited to see the Salem, Oregon doom band play really loud. In the meantime I was coming home, listening to records, and trying to catch up on weeks of comic books. First, I notice that my roommate is officially getting all his stuff out and leaving. I proceed to have a non verbal existential crisis based on needing a new roommate and not having friends, and dreading the Craigslist experience again. Then I get a weird phone call uninviting me from band practice tomorrow. Finally, I get the gumption to leave the house.
    Please understand that this is a very new occurance for me. For years now my social life has consisted of going to the bar a block from my house and drinking beers, and maybe (just maybe) actually talking to a real person. My yearlong relationship has recently ended, and a major cause of local traumatic stress has moved away. So, I oddly have been experimenting with leaving the house and going to shows more often. This has mostly consisted of going to random metal shows and usually lasting a band or two before I either get bored, anxiety filled, or I just plain can't stand the music.
    So tonight I went to see "Hell." In the end, I'm pretty sure I didn't see "Hell" at all. Or maybe I just saw my own personal Hell. Apparently, Hobo Chic is a fashion style. Look kind of dirty and unbathed, and then have short skirts and garters or the like. Also, as someone that quit smoking a year and 3 months ago, everyone was sucking down and looked extremely unhappy about and it made me really sad to remember how happy smoking made me until I realized how much better I feel without them. Then some band started doing some uneventful grind music that caused me to turn around some 3 minutes later and wander back to my car listening to a favorite professional wrestling podcast.
    Driving home I considered going somewhere else, but by then the anxiety had taken over and coming home to watch Wrestling and drink some riesling was about the only option. I really feel sad about all of this, mostly because "I tried."