i don't know what's come over me - the full moon or infinity

there was some rustling downstairs. i opened my eyes and stared out the window. "the endless motif of blue chenille spreading like ...joyce's got nothing on me!" and i laughed deeply inside myself. i was delirious.

i walked downstairs. the day was plain, and people were slumbered about and waking up. i stepped out onto the deck and smoked, which made me lightheaded and haughty, watching the clacking high-heeled beauties and the couples walking their dogs in their little litany of the morning and ps kisses, the men, women in hats pitterpattering to catch the bus, noticing the brooding bleakness of younglovers, as i wrapped myself around the ivy-framed flats, and why didn't i call you, dear girl?

well, you see, it went like this: me sipping bordeaux and blasting on the subject of a certain flame, and everyone likewise, wherefore taking notice of god's handiwork on inifinite levels and suddenly i was lost. really because what's the difference between madmen at windows in grim, tall buildings and the gentle dreamers of 5 am minneapolis bus stops? so dialogue feeding the flame as you see, and later cutting like crazy figures and dancing bug-like, or more to the point - it's hopeless. but truly i thought of you and pictured you at a roaring party late into the night, and as you know, you fascinate me, excite, kill me dead with delight: how i hate to see you go.

we decided to get brunch, so when everyone was rustled up, we walked down the street for a cheap brunch buffet. temple was in a predictably good mood and reorchestrating the goings on of the night before. everyone chipped in with tales, interjections, haphazard ramblings. i listened to all this and looked over the menu lazily. not being in the mood for conviviality, i walked over to the jukebox to play some cass mccombs.

the world is so vain and uncertain/a death in the family and i'm in love again over dark fairytale folk

warm bottomed and swelling to delicate plumes, so it goes, and all things whimsical until we finish eating. and then everyone going their separate ways.

again, later that night, cutting into a bar, soon high-tingled and leaving some message, feeling my doubts, and unsure, but quickly forgetting in burlesque moments of this i say: it's too much.