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Saturday, January 01, 2005
Last year (last night) I found a party to go to, at around eight. Lucinda gave me an invite into the odd filmic world she inhabits. At least a score of movies swirled in my head, all finding a way to superimpose themselves onto reality. Every time someone got off the bus, I would see them at a later stop. Odd...
So on the way there it was one bus, with only one gang to negotiate. They left me fairly well alone: I don't radiate my fear too well to drunks. Once there, I waited for Lucinda and listened in to people. Americans looking at the tube map didn't thank me as I pointed out their road to them, but they weren't sober I guess. If that's an excuse.
At the party I followed Lucinda out to the back, grabbing some drink and adding rum. Then watched her bring a container out, filled to overflowing with rolled joints. Shitloads and shitloads of weed, all in the circle I was standing in. It was good.
Then I smoked too much and ended up woozier than dizzy, with a girl on my lap and a cigarette in her hand. And then recovered, going back inside for the new year and Withnail & I. Hours slipping by like abandoned skis.
The party was awesome, firstly. Like a social fulfillment. Lucinda's group of friends is welcoming, intellectual, warm, funny and not at all strange to me. She looks radiant with weed, by the way. She can take so much. Her glances at me were beyond as well. Her smile stretches further when she's with her friends, her boyfriend. Her smile says that I'm welcome, and I love it.
I stayed until four, leaving when everyone else bedded down. The trains were wide awake and empty. Personal carriages back to my house, leaving me space to look at myself in the windows, and wonder what was going on. Didn't care about the new year. Then I reached home, and my bed extended its warmth to my feet.
This year should be good... I'm happy, and maybe it'll last.
So on the way there it was one bus, with only one gang to negotiate. They left me fairly well alone: I don't radiate my fear too well to drunks. Once there, I waited for Lucinda and listened in to people. Americans looking at the tube map didn't thank me as I pointed out their road to them, but they weren't sober I guess. If that's an excuse.
At the party I followed Lucinda out to the back, grabbing some drink and adding rum. Then watched her bring a container out, filled to overflowing with rolled joints. Shitloads and shitloads of weed, all in the circle I was standing in. It was good.
Then I smoked too much and ended up woozier than dizzy, with a girl on my lap and a cigarette in her hand. And then recovered, going back inside for the new year and Withnail & I. Hours slipping by like abandoned skis.
The party was awesome, firstly. Like a social fulfillment. Lucinda's group of friends is welcoming, intellectual, warm, funny and not at all strange to me. She looks radiant with weed, by the way. She can take so much. Her glances at me were beyond as well. Her smile stretches further when she's with her friends, her boyfriend. Her smile says that I'm welcome, and I love it.
I stayed until four, leaving when everyone else bedded down. The trains were wide awake and empty. Personal carriages back to my house, leaving me space to look at myself in the windows, and wonder what was going on. Didn't care about the new year. Then I reached home, and my bed extended its warmth to my feet.
This year should be good... I'm happy, and maybe it'll last.
