Last night, went and hung out with the darling out-of-towners in the darling Down of Town. Definitely drank too much. Walked with my head mostly looking up, since skyscrapers exist solely for that reason, to make great views for drunk girls stumbling back to their cars in silent parking garages, heels in hand. Driving home was like skating thru black ice water, totally empty, still, smooth. None of the anxiety that other drivers bring to the mix. Maybe if I do that enough times, it will cure me of the rush hour blues. Between getting there and leaving, there was a minor blur of dancing and bullriding and the young amateur wrestling version of the lounge singer from Lost In Translation. Everybody looked familiar, even though I knew none of them. The terms pretty and ugly entered no ones vernacular last night, Cleveland providing the reality plane thats miles away from qualifying for either. Everyone's Equally Ether.
Now of course it's Thunderstorm gathering on a Saturday afternoon time, and my head is a blowup doll being fucked thru the nose. There is a planned trip to the track (Big Brown! We yell at random times last night), but my damned ankle seems disconnected from the lower leg, it's floating around in painful fleshy freespace down there. I'm surprised to see I'm not covered in bruises, but no, pale discolored white all around. Sucked out all the pink from me, he did. Of course M. isn't making it any better by showing me this first thing in the morning. Seriously dude, this is the kind of thing best saved for Wednesdays. I'll never forgive you.
Like, seriously, what?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
i can get you the first part if you want.
ReplyDeleteI think I just need to watch the whole thing. On sedatives.
ReplyDelete