When you wake up late, the day is much shorter. I know, a profound statement and one you've probably never pondered, but there it is, right out of the gate. It's how I roll, even when I've had too little sleep and a slight hangover. You know, now that I think of it, I didn't wake up that late - it was around ten thirty - and, even though I went to sleep some time after four, I still got about six hours worth. Everything is relative; an insomniac would kill for six hours. Still, I'm feeling tired and hungover.
Oh, here's a little sidebar for you. As I was typing that last sentence, a fly invaded my personal space and when I went to swat it, I knocked over my full (to the fucking brim!) mug of coffee all over my desk, my lap, and the floor. Reason number 35 why I hate flies. Anyway, who needs coffee in the morning? Not this sleepy, foggy-brained, hungover lout. Nope, not me.
Went to Mark and Becky's cocktail party last night. Good times. Ok, I need a minute to collect myself. I'm still stewing over the coffee incident. Doesn't help that there is now an overwhelming stench of coffee in my room. Better change my shorts, I think, seeing how they've absorbed about a half a mug of coffee. I'm not going to lie to you, I did not see my Sunday starting off this way. Fucking fate, fucking flies, fucking clumsy oaf!
The party. I rode up with Janelle, Pat, and Allie. Almost the entire way there, Pat, for emphasis, would strike me in the chest throughout our conversations. "You'd like that band (Biff!). I can't believe you've never heard them (Baff!). What's the matter with you ? (Whap!)" I would have been irked if I wasn't all muscular and shit and able to absorb his feeble blows. You doubt me? Suit yourself. Pray we never meet in alley.
Our lives become insular the older we get. Better put, our spheres, if you will, become narrower. We have our jobs, our families, and, if we're lucky and able, a social life. But even that can be tricky to maintain. Many of the friends I saw last night I hardly ever see anymore. I was talking with Rebecca and we determined it had been years since we last saw each other. I hadn't seen Mark and Becky in at least a year. And so it went with others.
I did my best to utilize the time I had with everyone. There were more than a few people there I could have spent the entire night with, and would have been content doing so, but it would have been at the expense of reuniting with others. I'm a lucky individual. I have many quality friends and I love them all. Sometimes, in the fist of everyday life, I forget. That's why parties like this one are important. Perspective, ya dig?
The coffee smell is waning but still potent. If I find that fly, I will murder it. I will kill it and feel deep satisfaciton. I will not feel the slightest pang of remorse. This insect must die, ideally in a prolonged and tortuous manner. I'll keep you posted.
Over the last several weeks, in the midst of feeling shitty about my life, I hung out with Foley and he told me about how he'd been going up to Scott's place in NH almost every weekend and making music. They would play chess or Stratego, record a song or two, talk about stuff, take a walk, whatever ....very relaxed and creative. And they were prolific. It all sounded so appealing to me, to the extent that I felt like I needed, rather than wanted, to get up there.
Up until I saw Scott last night, I've kept close the idea of playing music together. It's informed the way I've been writing and rehearsing. More importantly, it served as a light at the end of the tunnel. Life had grown stale, empty. Going up to Scott's, would, among other things, be a sabbatical. Therapy.
I told him about my plan and he was receptive. The only problem is he's soon leaving for Europe and will be gone for five weeks. That's okay, upon his return we will commence with making music. If not, there is always my back up plan, which is to take up backyard wrestling.
There was a welter of drinks at the party and I sampled many of them. But not all. I missed out on Scott's ginger brew, which I've had before and loved. And I didn't get to have Janelle's concoction, either. Odd, that, considering the two of them are on my short list of people I'd trust to make a fantastic mixed drink for me. Maybe it was for the best that I didn't sample from everyone's offering. A slippery slope that would have been.
The police showed up a couple of times and, from what I here, they acted like brutish assholes. It wasn't that loud a party, but the cops treated it like it was pulled directly from Animal House. When they showed up the second time, they threatened to arrest Mark after he had the nerve to say that he had complied with their order to turn the music down when they were there the first time. Ah, the 'burbs.
Unnecessarily aggressive cops aside, the party was a success and, even though it wasn't until the wee hours of the morning when we left, I could have used another six hours with everyone. Time just goes by too quickly when you're having a good time. I wonder if there's a saying that expresses as much. Hmmm....
Anyway, it was a great time with an all-star lineup of guests. Many laughs, engaging conversations, and, between you and me, my libido was stirring all night. Really, though, what an assembly of beautiful ladies that were in attendance. If I were so inclined, I'd break out the word foxy. Seems I just did.
It's mid-afternoon, but my sluggish mind and body thinks it's still morning. It's possible I'll take a nap. It's a gorgeous day, though, and I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn't get outside for a bit. We'll see.
Spira had her hernia operation on Friday. She's been immobile and has employed friends, me included, to help around the house. I went over Friday night and, along with Pam, we watched Microcosmos. At one point, I inadvertently made Spira laugh so hard she started crying because of the pain it caused. I felt bad, especially since what I said wasn't very funny. So unfunny it was, I'm not going to share it with you.
I saw her Spira again yesterday. I made us lunch and took Missy for a walk in the park. I also took advantage of the bottle of hydrogen peroxide Spira had and attempted to unclog my ear. Spira poured a few drops in it, but to no avail. It's still a bit clogged. Maybe I have an infection. I used to get them a lot when I was younger.
I may read from Martin's A Dance With Dragons today. I'm about three quarters of the way through and I'll reserve my critique until I'm finished, mostly because I'm not sure how I feel about it. I may also read from my anthology of Sherlock Holmes stories. Yes, that sounds delightful.
Alright, you stone cold suckas, I'm done with you.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment