Captain Oblivious, that is.

So, I took myself out for a beer tonight.

To my gayborhood watering hole. 

Shocker, I know.

As usual, everyone ignored me, so I just sat there and refreshed my Instagram.

And then my incompetent-would-be-a-compliment boss walked in with some dinner companions for a post dinner out drink, so I had to excuse myself…after making the minimally acceptable niceties.  I’m not an animal.

So I repaired to the video gaming lounge.

And won $300, thank you gayby Jesus.

Karma.

While I was there, I struck up random convo with a regular I recognized and his friend?  Date?  

Just little chits and chats.

Until someone I faguely recognized walked in.  

Someone I had coitused a few months back.  

Karma?

Portland is just too damned small!  

And I just sat there and focused on pushing a button as I seethed, thinking, “He said he was leaving town!” and “He didn’t tell me he was gay-famous!”

Fine.

I can rally.

The Regular had greeted him and was cheerily chatting him up as I had quietly gnashed my teeth, “How’s the singing and songwriting business?”

Just back from Palm Springs, it seems.  Don’t worry, it wasn’t this guy:

  

Like I could get that…

Yada-Yada-Yada, he loses his seed money and bails for a haircut.

As I’m being all surreptitious and eavesdropping on the post-departure conversation, it becomes clear that this guy has a few self-produced CDs and plays enough gay-circuit festivals and bars that probably I should have known him, alas…

I really just don’t pay that much attention.

Did I mention I won $300?

That’s my take away.  But if Steve Grand wants to throw himself my way…zero objections to that!