Paris On The Platte.

Turns out that Matthew Marchetti flaked on us that night. I made curry but thank God he flaked because it sucked. Instead, we had a trio roommate dinner with Mark.

Afterwards, we wanted to go for a walk. We were at Tattered Cover for a while, I read an excerpt from Annie Leonard's Story of Stuff (it's in book form now!)

Ended up making a journey to Paris on the Platte. It was kind of a solemn night.

 Here's story time: we're at Paris on the Platte around 9:30PM MST. Paris on the Platte is like the cool hang out place that closes late, like many other independently owned cafes in any city. These four guys walk in and sit at a booth (pictured above). They order coffee. None of them speak to each other. They just sit there doing their own thing. Two are knitting, one is reading, and the other is staring off into space. It was so bizzare that I couldn't stop staring. I think they are the indiest kids I have seen in Denver thusfar. The rest of the people here are 16 year old girls who have pink hair and wear black suspenders and fingerless gloves.

Tonight is the release party for 303's "Pride" issue. I'm working the guest list and my dress code is to wear all black. I'll let you know how that goes, since I have no plus-one to this --quite literally-- "gay" event.