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.

and you'll never get a chance to forget

everything was merry. ben concocting drinks in the kitchen, mayu cloyingly hospitable, the way people streamed into the flat, careless and digging everything, as i sat unmoored and out to sea, swimming in my beer and searching for something. it was a party.

music played, some indecipherable hip hop trying to topple dead and bigger gods. soon the living room was full, and people spilled into the kitchen. everybody talking about the next city they're moving to, the next country, where to leave a mark, this new generation of restless ambition and all of a sudden american dreams laid before the sacrificial alter of move, go, spill.

"say chris, if you move to l.a. are you gonna have to buy a car?"

"no way, man. my bike will be perfect around santa monica." and the like.

we talked about football and who's following who where. to what ends? does it matter?

as the night wore on, it grew louder. dan asked about my work, and i told him i saw long fields where the wind whips over the ocean and things are simple like, and perhaps there are exigencies, yes. and he was excited about moving to brooklyn with mayu. he twisted one and only to forget, and i went larking. i saw jen out on the deck smoking, so i joined her and asked about san francisco and future plans, and joking, "there will be pretty raindrops on our eave some day, sweetheart." it was a great madhouse party.

more beers and i became drunker. there was another party down the street, and on the sidewalk were busy feet devouring the soft city night, the whole world roaring around us, my mind spinning a mad carousel. and that's when i decided to go upstairs, some people were leaving, ryan and ava found there way to ryan's room, and i climbed the stairs, halfway up, dodging the box of records to stare out the window. i liked watching the willow beneath the sad streetlight. when i arrived at the top, i walked toward a room. two wild creatures were standing face to face in the middle of the room, both smartly dressed, something quite beautiful and twisted about them. i could hear her say, "tell me i'm beautiful," her glassy eyes blazing insolently in the dark room. he began to speak, and there was something tragic on his lips. she pressed her finger over his mouth, her long fingernail digging into his upper lip, possibly drawing blood. and then they moved mysteriously, undressing each other, all flesh and madness, as they spun towards the window, the sad car headlights piercing their sweet, dark dramatics.

i moved into the next room, and crashed, fully clothed onto the bed, falling into a deep, awful sleep.