much ado

All kinetic energy fled from the universe and I am sitting at home, probably with the computer, maybe with a book, and at some point a text summons from Petal appears on my lovely phone. I manage to banish inertia, go downtown, and bare witness to him drinking beer while I consume a ginger ale and we talk. He is commemorating his last day of alcohol, carbs and general sloth until the New Year, and has fixed in his mind three simple goals: get drunk; get laid; go into work the next day hungover. I’m just there to hang out. We talk.

Petal says something meant to encourage me to start dating again. I tell him to piss off.

We then go to the Barn where College Night is in full swing. Petal is still drinking beer (he’s got a ways to go if he’s going to meet his first goal), and I have a water. The age mix is not as bottom heavy as I expected; some cute fraternity-type drunkard leans into me in the bathroom and says something that translates as “Come home with me,” so I flee; there’s a little girl with a bob in front of me dancing with a huge purse that keeps whacking me in the abdomen; and there’s no room for me to dance. I also realize that I am far, far too tired to actually enjoy being in such a fraught, noisy space for very long. I bid Petal a fond adieu and catch the last train back to my quiet hood.

In a what feels like a very quick descent over the past 18 months, I have become quite square.

I guess that would be significant if I cared. The new New Yorker has an article about women in Iran who protest the government. I’m going to bed.


~ by A Mundi on October 9, 2009.

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